eBook of George Grote, Aristotle

 

 

This Edition is an exact reprint of the First Edition, with the addition of two important Essays on the Ethics and Politics of Aristotle, which were found among the author’s posthumous papers. They were originally published in 1876, in ‘Fragments on Ethical Subjects, by the late George Grote,’ but would have been included in the First Edition of this Work, had they been discovered in time. These Essays are the fruit of long and laborious study, and, so far as they extend, embody the writer’s matured views upon the Ethics and the Politics: the two treatises whose omission from his published exposition of the Aristotelian philosophy has been most regretted.

The Essay on ‘The Ethics of Aristotle’ falls naturally into two divisions; the first treats of Happiness; the second of what, according to Aristotle, is the chief ingredient of Happiness, namely. Virtue. On Aristotle’s own conception of Happiness, Mr. Grote dwells very minutely; turning it over on all sides, and looking at it from every point of view. While fully acknowledging its merits, he gives also the full measure of its defects. His criticisms on this head are in the author’s best style and are no less important as regards Ethical discussion than as a commentary on Aristotle.

His handling of Aristotle’s doctrine of Virtue is equally subtle and instructive. Particularly striking are the remarks on the Voluntary and the Involuntary, and on προαίρεσις, or deliberate preference.

The treatment of the Virtues in detail is, unhappily, more fragmentary; but what he does say regarding Justice and Equity has a permanent interest.

The Essay on ‘The Politics of Aristotle’ must be studied in connection with the preceding. Although but a brief sketch, it is remarkable for the insight which it affords us into the most consummate political ideal of the ancient world.

 

 

 

 

 

The Historian of Greece, when closing his great narrative in the year 1856, promised to follow out in a separate work that speculative movement of the fourth century B.C. which upheld the supremacy of the Hellenic intellect long after the decline of Hellenic liberty. He had traced the beginnings of the movement in the famous chapter on Sokrates, but to do justice to its chief heroes — Plato and Aristotle — proved to be impossible within the limits of the History. When, however, the promised work appeared, after nine laborious years, it was found to compass only Plato and the other immediate companions of Sokrates, leaving a full half of the appointed task unperformed. Mr. Grote had already passed his 70th year, but saw in this only a reason for turning, without a moment’s pause, to the arduous labour still before him. Thenceforth, in spite of failing strength and the increasing distraction of public business, he held steadily on till death overtook him in the middle of the course. What he was able to accomplish, though not what study he had gone through towards the remainder of his design, these volumes will show. The office of preparing and superintending their publication was entrusted to the present editors by Mrs. Grote, in the exercise of her discretion as sole executrix under his last Will. As now printed, the work has its form determined by the author himself up to the end of Chapter XI. The first two chapters, containing a biography of Aristotle and a general account of his works, are followed by a critical analysis, in eight chapters, of all the treatises included under the title ‘Organon;’ and in the remaining chapter of the eleven the handling of the Physica and Metaphysica (taken together for the reasons given) is begun. What now stand as Chapters III., IV., &c., were marked, however, as Chapters VI., VII., &c., by the author; his design evidently being to interpolate before publication three other chapters of an introductory cast. Unfortunately no positive indication remains as to the subject of these; although there is reason to believe that, for one thing, he intended to prefix to the detailed consideration of the works a key to Aristotle’s perplexing terminology. Possibly also he designed to enter upon a more particular discussion of the Canon, after having viewed it externally in Chapter II.; citations and references bearing on such a discussion being found among his loose notes.

What might have been the course of the work from the point where it is broken off, is altogether matter of inference, beyond an indication of the subject of the chapter next to follow; but the remarks at the beginning of Chapter III. point to some likely conclusions. After the metaphysical discussions, which must have been prolonged through several chapters, there would probably have been taken in order the treatises De Cœlo, De Generatione et Corruptione, the Meteorologica, and next the various Biological works; though with what detail in each case it is impossible to guess. Then must have followed the De Animâ with the minor Psychological treatises summed up as Parva Naturalia, and next, without doubt, the Ethica and Politica; last of all, the Rhetorica and Poetica. That Mr. Grote had carefully mastered all these works is evident from his marginal annotations in the various copies which he read. With the Ethica and Politica in particular he had early been familiar, and most there is reason to regret that he has left nothing worked out upon this field so specially his own.1 Fortunately it happens that on the psychological field next adjoining there is something considerable to show.

In the autumn of 1867 Mr. Grote undertook to write a short account of Aristotle’s striking recognition of the physical aspect of mental phenomena, to be appended to the third edition of the senior editor’s work, ‘The Senses and the Intellect;’ but, on following out the indications relative to that point, he was gradually led by his interest in the subject to elaborate a full abstract of the De Animâ and the other psychological treatises. Several months were spent on this task, and at the end he declared that it had greatly deepened his insight into Aristotle’s philosophy as a whole. He also expressed his satisfaction at having thus completed an exposition of the Psychology, fitted to stand as his contribution to that part of Aristotle, in case he should never reach the subject in the regular course of his general work. The exposition was printed in full at the time (1868), and drew the attention of students. It is now reprinted, with the prominence due to its literary finish and intrinsic value, as a chapter — the last — in the body of the present work.

The long Appendix coming after is composed of elements somewhat heterogeneous; but the different sections were all written in the period since 1865, and all, not excepting the last two (treating briefly of Epikurus and the Stoics), have a bearing upon the author’s general design.

The first section — an historical account of ancient theories of Universals — has already seen the light.2 It brings together, as nowhere else, all the chief references to the doctrine of Realism in Plato, and exhibits the directly antagonistic position taken up by Aristotle towards his master. This it does so impressively that there could be no question of excluding it, even although it reproduces in part some of the matter of Chapter III., on the Categories. Being composed, in 1867, later than this Chapter, it is on that account written with all the firmer a grasp. On finishing it as it stands, Mr. Grote, in a private letter, expressed himself in terms that deserve to be quoted: — “I never saw before so clearly the extreme importance of Aristotle’s speculations as the guides and stimulants of mediæval philosophy. If I had time to carry the account further, I should have been able to show how much the improved views of the question of Universals depended on the fact that more and more of the works of Aristotle, and better texts, became known to Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas, and their successors. During the centuries immediately succeeding Boëthius, nothing of Aristotle except the Categories and the treatise De Interpretatione was known, and these in a Latin translation. Most fortunately the Categories was never put out of sight; and it is there that the doctrine of Substantia Prima stands clearly proclaimed.”

The second section, or, rather, the part therein treating of Aristotle’s doctrine of First Principles, is also a reprint. It was composed (in 1867) at the same time as the section on Universals, and was printed along with that; shorn, however, of the critical examination of Sir William Hamilton’s views on Aristotle, which is now prefixed to the statement of the Aristotelian doctrine. Hamilton having (in Note A, appended to his edition of Reid’s Works) claimed Aristotle as a supporter of the Philosophy of Common Sense, basing upon a long list of passages quoted, these were subjected by Mr. Grote to a searching criticism, the pointed vigour of which will be duly appreciated. The statement of his own view of Aristotle’s doctrine, though containing little that may not be found at more places than one in the body of the present work, is yet reprinted, because iteration was his favourite art for impressing anything to which he attached as much importance as he did attach to this conviction of his, regarding the very heart of Aristotle’s thought.

The long abstracts of six books of the Metaphysica and two books of the De Cœlo, next following in the Appendix, are sections of a character altogether different from the foregoing. Evidently not intended for publication, they have been included, partly as furnishing some indication of the labour the author underwent in seeking to lay hold of his subject, partly because of their inherent value. From the first motive, they are here reproduced as nearly as possible in the guise they wore as preliminary drafts, bestrewed with references. Their value consists in the fact that they give Mr. Grote’s interpretation of the text of treatises at once exceedingly difficult and important: difficult, as is proved by the great divergence, among commentators at many points; important, not more for the deeper aspects of Aristotle’s own system, than for the speculations of the earlier Greek philosophers on which they are the classical authority. What relation, in the case of each treatise, the books abstracted (often translated) hold to the other books left untouched, is specially indicated at the beginning of the third section and at the end of the fourth. Here let it suffice to mention that each abstract has a certain completeness in itself, and at the same time a bond of connection with the other. The abstract of the Metaphysica closes where Aristotle descends to speak of the concrete heavenly bodies, and just as much of the De Cœlo is given as treats specially of these. This connection, whether or not it was present to the author’s mind, enhances the value of the abstracts as here presented.3

In the remaining sections of the Appendix, not dealing with Aristotle, the short account of Epikurus aims at setting in its true light a much-maligned system of thought. On writing it, in 1867, Mr. Grote remarked that the last word had not yet been said on Epikurus. The ethical part of the sketch was printed at the time:4 the whole is now given. More fragmentary is the notice of the Stoics, as merely replacing passages that he considered inadequate in a sketch submitted to him. Since it formed part of his entire design to add to the treatment of Aristotle a full exposition both of Stoic and Epikurean doctrines, considered as the outgrowth of the Cynic and Kyrenaic theories already handled at the end of the ‘Plato,’ the two fragments may not unfitly close the present work.

Taken altogether, the two volumes are undoubtedly a most important contribution to the history of ancient thought. As regards Aristotle, the author’s design must be gathered chiefly from the first eleven chapters, — begun as these were in 1865, and proceeded with in their order, till he was overtaken, in the act of composing the last, by the insidious malady which, after six months, finally carried him off. Perhaps the most striking feature in the exposition of the Organon, is the very full analysis given of the long treatise called Topica. While the other treatises have all, more or less, been drawn upon for the ordinary theory of Logic, the Topica, with its mixed logical and rhetorical bearings, has ceased to be embodied in modern schemes of discipline or study. Mr. Grote’s profound interest in everything pertaining to Dialectic drew him especially to this work, as the exhibition in detail of that habit of methodized discussion so deeply rooted in the Hellenic mind. And in the same connection it may be noted how the natural course of his work brought him, in the last months of his intellectual activity, to tread again old and familiar ground. A plea — this time against Aristotle — for the decried Sophists, and, once more, a picture of that dialectical mission of Sokrates which for him had an imperishable charm, were among the very last efforts of his pen.

 

Besides making up the Second Volume from the end of Chapter XI., the editors have, throughout the whole work, bestowed much attention on the notes and references set down by the author with his usual copious minuteness. It was deemed advisable to subject these everywhere to a detailed verification; and, though the editors speak on the matter with a diffidence best understood by those who may have undergone a similar labour, it is hoped that a result not unworthy of the author has been attained. In different places additional references have been supplied, either where there was an obvious omission on the author’s part, or in farther confirmation of his views given in the text: such references, mostly to the works of Aristotle himself, it has not been thought necessary to signalize. Where, as once or twice in the Appendix, a longer note in explanation seemed called for, this has been printed within square brackets.

From the text some passages, where the iterations seemed excessive, have been withheld, but only such as it was thought the author would himself have struck out upon revision: wherever there was evidence that revision had been made, the iterations, freely employed for emphasis, have been allowed to stand. On rare occasions, interpolations and verbal changes have been made with the view of bringing out more clearly the meaning sought to be conveyed. It is impossible to be more deeply sensible than the editors are, of the responsibility they have thus incurred; but they have been guided by their very respect for the venerable author, and they were fortunate in the many opportunities they enjoyed of learning from his own lips the cast of his views on Aristotle.5

An index has been drawn up with some care; as was needful, if meant to be of real service to the readers of so elaborate a work.

It only remains to add that in printing the Greek of the notes, &c., the text of Waitz has been followed for the Organon (everywhere short of the beginning); the text of Bonitz, for the Metaphysica; and for other works of Aristotle, generally the Berlin edition. Regard was had, as far as the editors’ knowledge went, to the author’s own preferences in his reading.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER I.
LIFE OF ARISTOTLE	1
CHAPTER II.
ARISTOTELIAN CANON	27
CHAPTER III.
CATEGORIÆ	54
CHAPTER IV.
DE INTERPRETATIONE	108
CHAPTER V.
ANALYTICA PRIORA I.	139
CHAPTER VI.
ANALYTICA PRIORA II.	171
CHAPTER VII.
ANALYTICA POSTERIORA I.	207
CHAPTER VIII.
ANALYTICA POSTERIORA II.	238
CHAPTER IX.
TOPICA (I.-VIII.)	262
CHAPTER X.
SOPHISTICI ELENCHI	376
CHAPTER XI.
PHYSICA AND METAPHYSICA	422
CHAPTER XII.
DE ANIMÂ, ETC.	446
CHAPTER XIII.
ETHICA	494
CHAPTER XIV.
POLITICA	539
APPENDIX
I. THE DOCTRINE OF UNIVERSALS	551
II. FIRST PRINCIPLES:
A. Sir William Hamilton on Aristotle’s Doctrine	565
B. Aristotle’s Doctrine	573
III. METAPHYSICA:
Book Γ.	583
Book E.	592
Book Ζ.	594
Book Η.	609
Book Θ.	613
Book Λ.	619
IV. DE CŒLO:
Book I.	630
Book II.	639
V. EPIKURUS	654
VI. THE STOICS. — A FRAGMENT	660

 

 

 

 

 

In my preceding work, ‘Plato and the Other Companions of Sokrates,’ I described a band of philosophers differing much from each other, but all emanating from Sokrates as common intellectual progenitor; all manifesting themselves wholly or principally in the composition of dialogues; and all living in an atmosphere of Hellenic freedom, as yet untroubled by any over-ruling imperial ascendancy from without. From that band, among whom Plato is facilè princeps, I now proceed to another, among whom the like pre-eminence belongs to Aristotle. This second band knew the Sokratic stimulus only as an historical tradition; they gradually passed, first from the Sokratic or Platonic dialogue — dramatic, colloquial, cross-examining — to the Aristotelian dialogue, semi-dramatic, rhetorical, counter-expository; and next to formal theorizing, ingenious solution and divination of special problems, historical criticism and abundant collections of detailed facts: moreover, they were witnesses of the extinction of freedom in Hellas, and of the rise of the Macedonian kingdom out of comparative nullity to the highest pinnacle of supremacy and mastership. Under the successors of Alexander, this extraneous supremacy, intermeddling and dictatorial, not only overruled the political movements of the Greeks, but also influenced powerfully the position and working of their philosophers; and would have become at once equally intermeddling even earlier, under Alexander himself, had not his whole time and personal energy been absorbed by insatiable thirst for eastern conquest, ending with an untimely death.

Aristotle was born at Stageira, an unimportant Hellenic colony in Thrace, which has obtained a lasting name in history from the fact of being his birthplace. It was situated in the Strymonic Gulf, a little north of the isthmus which terminates in the mountainous promontory of Athos; its founders were Greeks from the island of Andros, reinforced afterwards by additional immigrants from Chalkis in Eubœa. It was, like other Grecian cities, autonomous — a distinct, self-governing community; but it afterwards became incorporated in the confederacy of free cities under the presidency of Olynthus. The most material feature in its condition, at the period of Aristotle’s birth, was, that it lay near the frontier of Macedonia, and not far even from Pella, the residence of the Macedonian king Amyntas (father of Philip). Aristotle was born, not earlier than 392 B.C., nor later than 385-384 B.C. His father, Nikomachus, was a citizen of Stageira, distinguished as a physician, author of some medical works, and boasting of being descended from the heroic gens of the Asklepiads; his mother, Phaestis, was also of good civic family, descended from one of the first Chalkidian colonists.1 Moreover, Nikomachus was not merely learned in his art, but was accepted as confidential physician and friend of Amyntas, with whom he passed much of his time — a circumstance of great moment to the future career of his son. We are told that among the Asklepiads the habit of physical observation, and even manual training in dissection, were imparted traditionally from father to son, from the earliest years, thus serving as preparation for medical practice when there were no written treatises to study.2 The mind of Aristotle may thus have acquired that appetite for physiological study which so many of his treatises indicate.

Respecting the character of his youth, there existed, even in antiquity, different accounts. We learn that he lost his father and mother while yet a youth, and that he came under the guardianship of Proxenus, a native of Atarneus who had settled at Stageira. According to one account, adopted apparently by the earliest witnesses preserved to us,3 he was at first an extravagant youth, spent much of his paternal property, and then engaged himself to military service; of which he soon became weary, and went back to Stageira, turning to account the surgical building, apparatus, and medicines left by his father as a medical practitioner. After some time, we know not how long, he retired from this profession, shut up the building, and devoted himself to rhetoric and philosophy. He then went to Athens, and there entered himself in the school of Plato, at the age of thirty.4 The philosophical life was thus (if this account be believed) a second choice, adopted comparatively late in life.5 The other account, depending also upon good witnesses, represents him as having come to Athens and enlisted as pupil of Plato, at the early age of seventeen or eighteen: it omits all mention of an antecedent period, occupied by military service and a tentative of medical profession.6 In both the two narratives, Aristotle appears as resident at Athens, and devoting himself to rhetoric and philosophy, from some period before 360 B.C. down to the death of Plato in 347 B.C.; though, according to the first of the two narratives, he begins his philosophical career at a later age, while his whole life occupied seventy years instead of sixty-two years.

During the interval, 367-360 B.C., Plato was much absent from Athens, having paid two separate visits to Dionysius the younger at Syracuse. The time which he spent there at each visit is not explicitly given; but as far as we can conjecture from indirect allusions, it cannot have been less than a year at each, and may possibly have been longer. If, therefore, Aristotle reached Athens in 367 B.C. (as Hermippus represents) he cannot have enjoyed continuous instructions from Plato for the three or four years next ensuing.

However the facts may stand as to Aristotle’s early life, there is no doubt that in or before the year 362 B.C. he became resident at Athens, and that he remained there, profiting by the society and lectures of Plato, until the death of the latter in 347 B.C. Shortly after the loss of his master, he quitted Athens, along with his fellow-pupil Xenokrates, and went to Atarneus, which was at that time ruled by the despot Hermeias. That despot was a remarkable man, who being a eunuch through bodily hurt when a child, and having become slave of a prior despot named Eubulus, had contrived to succeed him in the supreme power, and governed the towns of Atarneus and Assos with firmness and energy. Hermeias had been at Athens, had heard Plato’s lectures, and had contracted friendship with Aristotle; which friendship became farther cemented by the marriage of Aristotle, during his residence at Atarneus, with Pythias the niece of Hermeias.7 For three years Aristotle and Xenokrates remained at Assos or Atarneus, whence they were then forced to escape by reason of the despot’s death; for Mentor the Rhodian, general of the Persians in those regions, decoyed Hermeias out of the town under pretence of a diplomatic negociation, then perfidiously seized him, and sent him up as prisoner to the Persian king, by whose order he was hanged. Mentor at the same time seized the two towns and other possessions of Hermeias,8 while Aristotle with his wife retired to Mitylene. His deep grief for the fate of Hermeias was testified in a noble hymn or pæan which he composed, and which still remains, as well as by an epigram inscribed on the statue of Hermeias at Delphi. We do not hear of his going elsewhere, until, two or three years afterwards (the exact date is differently reported), he was invited by Philip into Macedonia, to become preceptor to the young prince Alexander, then thirteen or fourteen years old. The reputation, which Aristotle himself had by this time established, doubtless coincided with the recollection of his father Nikomachus as physician and friend of Amyntas, in determining Philip to such a choice. Aristotle performed the duties required from him,9 enjoying the confidence and favour both of Philip and Alexander, until the assassination of the former and the accession of the latter in 336 B.C. His principle residence during this period was in Macedonia, but he paid occasional visits to Athens, and allusion is made to certain diplomatic services which he rendered to the Athenians at the court of Philip; moreover he must have spent some time at his native city Stageira,10 which had been among the many Greek cities captured and ruined by Philip during the Olynthian war of 349-347 B.C. Having obtained the consent and authority of Philip, Aristotle repaired to Stageira for the purpose of directing the re-establishment of the city. Recalling such of its dispersed inhabitants as could be collected, either out of the neighbouring villages or from more distant parts, he is said to have drawn up laws, or framed regulations for the returned citizens, and new comers. He had reason to complain of various rivals who intrigued against him, gave him much trouble, and obstructed the complete renovation of the city; but, notwithstanding, his services were such that an annual festival was instituted to commemorate them.11 It is farther stated, that at some time during this period he had a school (analogous to the Academy at Athens) in the Nymphæum of the place called Mieza; where stone seats and shady walks, ennobled by the name of Aristotle, were still shown even in the days of Plutarch.12

In 336 B.C. Alexander became king of Macedonia, and his vast projects for conquest, first of Persia, next of other peoples known and unknown, left him no leisure for anything but military and imperial occupations. It was in the ensuing year (335 B.C. when the preparations for the Persian expedition were being completed, ready for its execution in the following spring, that Aristotle transferred his residence to Athens. The Platonic philosophical school in which he had studied was now conducted by Xenokrates as Scholarch, having passed at the death of Plato, in 347 B.C., to his nephew Speusippus, and from the latter to Xenokrates in 339 B.C. Aristotle established for himself a new and rival school on the eastern side of Athens, in the gymnasium attached to the temple of Apollo Lykeius, and deriving from thence the name by which it was commonly known — the Lykeium. In that school, and in the garden adjoining, he continued to lecture or teach, during the succeeding twelve years, comprising the life and the brilliant conquests of Alexander. Much of his instruction is said to have been given while walking in the garden, from whence the students and the sect derived the title of Peripatetics. In the business of his school and the composition of his works all his time was occupied; and his scholars soon became so numerous that he found it convenient to desire them to elect from themselves every ten days a rector to maintain order, as Xenokrates had already done at the Academy.13 Aristotle farther maintained correspondence, not merely with Alexander and Antipater but also with Themison, one of the princes of Cyprus, as Isokrates had corresponded with Nikokles, and Plato with Dionysius of Syracuse.14

In June, 323 B.C., occurred the premature and unexpected decease of the great Macedonian conqueror, aged 32 years and 8 months, by a violent fever at Babylon. So vast was his power, and so unmeasured his ambition, that the sudden removal of such a man operated as a shock to the hopes and fears of almost every one, both in Greece and Asia. It produced an entire change in the position of Aristotle at Athens.

To understand what that position really was, we must look at it in connection with his Macedonian sympathies, and with the contemporaneous political sentiment at Athens. It was in the middle of the year 335 B.C., that Alexander put down by force the revolt of the Thebans, took their city by assault, demolished it altogether (leaving nothing but the citadel called Kadmeia, occupied by a Macedonian garrison), and divided its territory between two other Bœotian towns. Immediately after that terror-striking act, he demanded from the Athenians (who had sympathized warmly with Thebes, though without overt acts of assistance) the surrender of their principal anti-Macedonian politicians. That demand having been refused, he at first prepared to extort compliance at the point of the sword, but was persuaded, not without difficulty, to renounce such intention, and to be content with the voluntary exile of Ephialtes and Charidemus from Athens. Though the unanimous vote of the Grecian Synod at Corinth constituted him Imperator, there can be no doubt that the prevalent sentiment in Greece towards him was that of fear and dislike; especially among the Athenians, whose dignity was most deeply mortified, and to whom the restriction of free speech was the most painful.15

Now it was just at this moment (in 335 B.C.) that Aristotle came to Athens and opened his school. We cannot doubt that he was already known and esteemed as the author of various published writings. But the prominent mark by which every one now distinguished him, was, that he had been for several years confidential preceptor of Alexander, and was still more or less consulted by that prince, as well as sustained by the friendship of Antipater, viceroy of Macedonia during the king’s absence. Aristotle was regarded as philo-Macedonian, and to a certain extent, anti-Hellenic — the sentiment expressed towards him in the unfriendly epigram of the contemporary Chian poet Theokritus.16 His new school, originally opened under the protection and patronage of Alexander and Antipater, continued to be associated with their names, by that large proportion of Athenian citizens who held anti-Macedonian sentiments. Alexander caused the statue of Aristotle to be erected in Athens,17 and sent to him continual presents of money, usefully employed by the philosopher in the prosecution of his physical and zoological researches,18 as well as in the purchase of books. Moreover, Aristotle remained in constant and friendly correspondence with Antipater, the resident viceroy at Pella,19 during the absence of Alexander in Asia. Letters of recommendation from Aristotle to the Macedonian rulers were often given and found useful: several of them were preserved and published afterwards. There is even reason to believe that the son of Antipater — Kassander, afterwards viceroy or king of Macedonia, was among his pupils.20

I have recounted elsewhere how the character of Alexander became gradually corrupted by unexampled success and Asiatic influences;21 how he thus came to feel less affection and esteem for Aristotle, to whom he well knew that his newly acquired imperial and semi-divine pretensions were not likely to be acceptable; how, on occasion of the cruel sentence passed on Kallisthenes, he threatened even to punish Aristotle himself, as having recommended Kallisthenes, and as sympathizing with the same free spirit; lastly, how Alexander became more or less alienated, not only from the society of Hellenic citizens, but even from his faithful viceroy, the Macedonian Antipater. But these changed relations between Aristotle and Alexander did not come before the notice of the Athenians, nor alter the point of view in which they regarded the philosopher; the rather, since the relations of Aristotle with Antipater continued as intimate as ever.

It will thus appear, that though all the preserved writings of Aristotle are imbued with a thoroughly independent spirit of theorizing contemplation and lettered industry, uncorrupted by any servility or political bias — yet his position during the twelve years between 335-323 B.C. inevitably presented him to the Athenians as the macedonizing philosopher, parallel with Phokion as the macedonizing politician, and in pointed antithesis to Xenokrates at the Academy, who was attached to the democratical constitution, and refused kingly presents. Besides that enmity which he was sure to incur, as an acute and self-thinking philosopher, from theology and the other anti-philosophical veins in the minds of ordinary men, Aristotle thus became the object of unfriendly sentiment from many Athenian patriots,22 who considered the school of Plato generally as hostile to popular liberty, and who had before their eyes examples of individual Platonists, ruling their respective cities with a sceptre forcibly usurped.23

Such sentiment was probably aggravated by the unparalleled and offensive Macedonian demonstration at the Olympic festival of 324 B.C. It was on that occasion that Alexander, about one year prior to his decease, sent down a formal rescript, which was read publicly to the assembled crowd by a herald with loud voice; ordering every Grecian city to recall all exiles who had been banished by judicial sentence, and intimating, that if the rescript were not obeyed spontaneously, Antipater would be instructed to compel the execution of it by force. A large number of the exiles whose restitution was thus ordered, were present on the plain of Olympia, and heard the order proclaimed, doubtless with undisguised triumph and exultation. So much the keener must have been the disgust and humiliation among the other Grecian hearers, who saw the autonomy of each separate city violently trampled down, without even the pretence of enquiry, by this high-handed sentence of the Macedonian conqueror. Among the Athenians especially, the resentment felt was profound; and a vote was passed appointing deputies to visit Alexander in person, for the purpose of remonstrating against it. The orator Demosthenes, who happened to be named Archi-Theôrus of Athens (chief of the solemn legation sent to represent Athens) at this Olympic festival, incurred severe reproach from his accuser Deinarchus, for having even been seen in personal conversation with the Macedonian officer who had arrived from Asia as bearer of this odious rescript.24

Now it happened that this officer, the bearer of the rescript, was Nikanor of Stageira;25 son of Proxenus who had been Aristotle’s early guardian, and himself the cherished friend or ward, ultimately the son-in-law, of the philosopher. We may be certain that Aristotle would gladly embrace the opportunity of seeing again this attached friend, returning after a long absence on service in Asia; that he would be present with him at the Olympic festival, perhaps receive a visit from him at Athens also. And the unpopularity of Aristotle at Athens, as identified with Macedonian imperial authority, would thus be aggravated by his notorious personal alliance with his fellow-citizen Nikanor, the bearer of that rescript in which such authority had been most odiously manifested.

During the twelve or thirteen years26 of Aristotle’s teaching and Alexander’s reign, Athens was administered by macedonizing citizens, with Phokion and Demades at their head. Under such circumstances, the enmity of those who hated the imperial philosopher could not pass into act; nor was it within the contemplation of any one, that only one year after that rescript which insulted the great Pan-Hellenic festival, the illustrious conqueror who issued it would die of fever, in the vigour of his age and at the height of his power (June, 323 B.C.). But as soon as the news of his decease, coming by surprise both on friends and enemies, became confirmed, the suppressed anti-Macedonian sentiment burst forth in powerful tide, not merely at Athens, but also throughout other parts of Greece. There resulted that struggle against Antipater, known as the Lamian war:27 a gallant struggle, at first promising well, but too soon put down by superior force, and ending in the occupation of Athens by Antipater with a Macedonian garrison in September, 322 B.C., as well as in the extinction of free speech and free citizenship by the suicide of Demosthenes and the execution of Hypereides.

During the year immediately succeeding the death of Alexander, the anti-Macedonian sentiment continued so vehemently preponderant at Athens, that several of the leading citizens, friends of Phokion, left the city to join Antipater, though Phokion himself remained, opposing ineffectually the movement. It was during this period that the enemies of Aristotle found a favourable opportunity for assailing him. An indictment on the score of impiety was preferred against him by Eurymedon the Hierophant (chief priest of the Eleusinian Demeter), aided by Demophilus, son of the historian Ephorus. The Hymn or Pæan (still existing), which Aristotle had composed in commemoration of the death, and in praise of the character, of the eunuch Hermeias,28 was arraigned as a mark of impiety; besides which Aristotle had erected at Delphi a statue of Hermeias with an honorific inscription, and was even alleged to have offered sacrifices to him as to a god. In the published writings of Aristotle, too, the accusers found various heretical doctrines, suitable for sustaining their indictment; as, for example, the declaration that prayer and sacrifices to the gods were of no avail.29 But there can be little doubt that the Hymn, Ode, or Pæan, in honour of Hermeias, would be more offensive to the feelings of an ordinary Athenian than any philosophical dogma extracted from the cautious prose compositions of Aristotle. It is a hymn, of noble thought and dignified measure, addressed to Virtue (Ἀρετὴ — masculine or military Virtue), in which are extolled the semi-divine or heroic persons who had fought, endured, and perished in her service. The name and exploits of Hermeias are here introduced as the closing parallel and example in a list beginning with Hêraklês, the Dioskûri, Achilles, and Ajax. Now the poet Kallistratus, in his memorable Skolion, offers a like compliment to Harmodius and Aristogeiton; and Pindar, to several free Greeks of noble family, who paid highly for his epinician Odes now remaining. But all the persons thus complimented were such as had gained prizes at the sacred festivals, or had distinguished themselves in other ways which the public were predisposed to honour; whereas Hermeias was a eunuch, who began by being a slave, and ended by becoming despot over a free Grecian community, without any exploit conspicuous to the eye. To many of the Athenian public it would seem insult, and even impiety, to couple Hermeias with the greatest personages of Hellenic mythology, as a successful competitor for heroic honours. We need only read the invective of Claudian against Eutropius, to appreciate the incredible bitterness of indignation and contempt, which was suggested by the spectacle of a eunuch and a slave exercising high public functions.30 And the character of a despot was, to the anti-macedonizing Athenians, hardly less odious than either of the others combined with it in Hermeias.

Taking these particulars into account, we shall see that a charge thus sustained, when preferred by a venerable priest, during the prevalence of strong anti-Macedonian feeling, against a notorious friend of Antipater and Nikanor, was quite sufficient to alarm the prudence of the accused. Aristotle bowed to the storm (if indeed he had not already left Athens, along with other philo-Macedonians) and retired to Chalkis (in Eubœa),31 then under garrison by Antipater. An accused person at Athens had always the option of leaving the city, at any time before the day of trial; Sokrates might have retired, and obtained personal security in the same manner, if he had chosen to do so. Aristotle must have been served, of course, with due notice: and according to Athenian custom, the indictment would be brought into court in his absence, as if he had been present; various accusers, among them Demochares,32 the nephew of Demosthenes, would probably speak in support of it; and Aristotle must been found guilty in his absence. But there is no ground for believing that he intended to abandon Athens, and live at Chalkis, permanently; the rather, inasmuch as he seems to have left not only his school, but his library, at Athens under the charge of Theophrastus. Aristotle knew that the Macedonian chiefs would not forego supremacy over Greece without a struggle; and, being in personal correspondence with Antipater himself, he would receive direct assurance of this resolution, if assurance were needed. In a question of military force, Aristotle probably felt satisfied that Macedonian arms must prevail; after which the affairs of Athens would be again administered, at least in the same spirit, as they had been before Alexander’s death, if not with more complete servility. He would then have returned thither to resume his school, in competition with that of Plato under Xenokrates at the Academy; for he must have been well aware that the reputation of Athens, as central hearth of Hellenic letters and philosophy, could not be transferred to Chalkis or to any other city.33

This is what would probably have occurred, when the Lamian war was finished and the Macedonian garrison installed at Athens, in Sept. 322 B.C. — had Aristotle’s life lasted longer. But in or about that very period, a little before the death of Demosthenes, he died at Chalkis of illness; having for some time been troubled with indigestion and weakness of stomach.34 The assertion of Eumêlus and others that he took poison, appears a mere fiction suggested by the analogy of Sokrates.35 One of his latest compositions was a defence of himself against the charge of impiety, and against the allegations of his accusers (as reported to him, or published) in support of it. A sentence of this defence remains,36 wherein he points out the inconsistency of his accusers in affirming that he intended to honour Hermeias as an immortal, while he had notoriously erected a tomb, and had celebrated funeral ceremonies to him as a mortal. And in a letter to Antipater, he said (among other things) that Athens was a desirable residence, but that the prevalence of sycophancy or false accusation was a sad drawback to its value; moreover that he had retired to Chalkis, in order that the Athenians might not have the opportunity of sinning a second time against philosophy, as they had already done once, in the person of Sokrates.37 In the same or another letter to Antipater, he adverted to an honorific tribute which had been voted to him at Delphi before the death of Alexander, but the vote for which had been since rescinded. He intimated that this disappointment was not indifferent to him, yet at the same time no serious annoyance.38

In regard to the person and habits of Aristotle, we are informed that he had thin legs and small eyes; that in speech he was somewhat lisping; that his attire was elegant and even showy; that his table was well-served — according to his enemies, luxurious above the measure of philosophy. His pleasing and persuasive manners are especially attested by Antipater, in a letter, apparently of marked sympathy and esteem, written shortly after the philosopher’s death.39 He was deeply attached to his wife Pythias, by whom he had a daughter who bore the same name. His wife having died after some years, he then re-married with a woman of Stageira, named Herpyllis, who bore him a son called Nikomachus. Herpyllis lived with him until his death; and the constant as well as reciprocal attachment between them is attested by his last will.40 At the time of his death, his daughter Pythias had not yet attained marriageable age; Nikomachus was probably a child.

The will or testament of the philosopher is preserved.41 Its first words constitute Antipater his general executor in the most comprehensive terms,42 words well calculated to ensure that his directions should be really carried into effect; since not only was Antipater now the supreme potentate, but Nikanor, the chief beneficiary under the will, was in his service and dependent on his orders. Aristotle then proceeds to declare that Nikanor shall become his son-in-law, by marriage with his daughter Pythias as soon as she shall attain suitable age; also, his general heir, subject to certain particular bequests and directions, and the guardian of his infant son Nikomachus. Nikanor being at that time on service, and perhaps in Asia, Aristotle directs that four friends (named Aristomenes, Timarchus, Hipparchus, Diotelês) shall take provisional care of Herpyllis, his two children, and his effects, until Nikanor can appear and act: Theophrastus is to be conjoined with these four if he chooses, and if circumstances permit him.43 The daughter Pythias, when she attains suitable age, is to become the wife of Nikanor, who will take the best care both of her and her son Nikomachus, being in the joint relation of father and brother to them.44 If Pythias shall die, either before the marriage or after it, but without leaving offspring, Nikanor shall have discretion to make such arrangements as may be honourable both for himself and for the testator respecting Nikomachus and the estate generally. In case of the death of Nikanor himself, either before the marriage or without offspring, any directions given by him shall be observed; but Theophrastus shall be entitled, if he chooses, to become the husband of Pythias, and if Theophrastus does not choose, then the executors along with Antipater shall determine what they think best both for her and for Nikomachus.45 The will then proceeds as follows:— “The executors (here Antipater is not called in to co-operate) with Nikanor, in faithful memory of me and of the steady affection of Herpyllis towards me, shall take good care of her in every way, but especially if she desires to be married, in giving her away to one not unworthy of me. They shall assign to her, besides what she has already received, a talent of silver, and three female slaves chosen by herself, out of the property, together with the young girl and the Pyrrhæan slave now attached to her person. If she prefers to reside at Chalkis, she may occupy the lodging near the garden; if at Stageira, she may live at my paternal house. Whichever of the two she may prefer, the executors shall provide it with all such articles of furniture as they deem sufficient for her comfort and dignity.”46

Aristotle proceeds to direct that Nikanor shall make comfortable provision for several persons mentioned by name, male and female, most of them slaves, but one (Myrmex), seemingly, a free boarder or pupil, whose property he had undertaken to manage. Two or three of these slaves are ordered to be liberated, and to receive presents, as soon as his daughter Pythias shall be married. He strictly enjoins that not one of the youthful slaves who attended him shall be sold. They are to be brought up and kept in employment; when of mature age, they are to be liberated according as they shew themselves worthy.47

Aristotle had in his lifetime ordered, from a sculptor named Gryllion, busts of Nikanor and of the mother of Nikanor; he intended farther to order from the same sculptor a bust of Proxenus, Nikanor’s father. Nikanor is instructed by the will to complete these orders, and to dedicate the busts properly when brought in. A bust of the mother of Aristotle is to be dedicated to Demeter at Nemea, or in any other place which Nikanor may prefer; another bust of Arimnêstus (brother of Aristotle) is to be dedicated as a memento of the same, since he has died childless.48

During some past danger of Nikanor (we do not know what) Aristotle had made a vow of four marble animal figures, in case the danger were averted, to Zeus the Preserver and Athênê the Preserver. Nikanor is directed to fulfil this vow and to dedicate the figures in Stageira.49

Lastly, wherever Aristotle is buried, the bones of his deceased wife Pythias are to be collected and brought to the same spot, as she had commanded during her lifetime.50

This testament is interesting, as it illustrates the personal circumstances and sentiments of the philosopher, evincing an affectionate forethought and solicitude for those who were in domestic relations with him. As far as we can judge, the establishment and property which he left must have been an ample one.51 How the provisions of the will were executed, or what became of most persons named in it, we do not know, except that Pythias the daughter of Aristotle was married three times: first, to Nikanor (according to the will); secondly, to Proklês, descendant of Demaratus (the king of Sparta formerly banished to Asia) by whom she had two sons, Proklês and Demaratus, afterwards pupils in the school of Theophrastus; thirdly, to a physician named Metrodôrus, by whom she had a son named Aristotle.52

There existed in antiquity several works, partly by contemporaries like the Megaric Eubulides, partly by subsequent Platonists, in which Aristotle was reproached with ingratitude to Plato,53 servility to the Macedonian power, love of costly display and indulgences, &c. What proportion of truth may lie at the bottom of these charges we do not know enough to determine confidently; but we know that he had many enemies, philosophical as well as political;54 and controversy on those grounds (then as now) was rarely kept free from personal slander and invective.

The accusation of ingratitude or unbecoming behaviour to Plato is no way proved by any evidence now remaining. It seems to have been suggested to the Platonists mainly, if not wholly, by the direct rivalry of Aristotle in setting up a second philosophical school at Athens, alongside of the Academy; by his independent, self-working, philosophical speculation; and by the often-repeated opposition which he made to some capital doctrines of Plato, especially to the so-called Platonic Ideas.55 Such opposition was indeed expressed, as far as we can judge, in terms of respectful courtesy, and sometimes even of affectionate regret; examples of which we shall have to notice in going through the Aristotelian writings. Yet some Platonists seem to have thought that direct attack on the master’s doctrines was undutiful and ungrateful in the pupil, however unexceptionable the language might be. They also thought, probably, that the critic misrepresented what he sought to refute. Whether Aristotle really believed that he had superior claims to be made Scholarch of the Platonic school at the death of Plato in 347 B.C., or at the death of Speusippus in 339 B.C., is a point which we can neither affirm nor deny. But we can easily understand that the act of setting up a new philosophical school at Athens, though perfectly fair and admissible on his part, was a hostile competition sure both to damage and offend the pre-established school, and likely enough to be resented with unbecoming asperity. Ingratitude towards the great common master Plato, with arrogant claims of superiority over fellow-pupils, were the allegations which this resentment would suggest, and which many Platonists in the Academy would not scruple to advance against their macedonizing rival at the Lykeium.

Such allegations moreover would find easy credence from other men of letters, whose enmity Aristotle had incurred, and to a certain extent even provoked — Isokrates and his numerous disciples.

This celebrated rhetor was an elderly man at the zenith of his glory and influence, during those earlier years which Aristotle passed at Athens before the decease of Plato. The Isokratean school was then the first in Greece, frequented by the most promising pupils from cities near and far, perhaps even by Aristotle himself. The political views and handling, as well as the rhetorical style of which the master set the example, found many imitators. Illustrious statesmen, speakers, and writers traced their improvement to this teaching. So many of the pupils, indeed, acquired celebrity — among them Theodektês, Theopompus, Ephorus, Naukrates, Philiskus, Kephisodôrus, and others — that Hermippus56 thought it worth his while to draw up a catalogue of them: many must have been persons of opulent family, highly valuing the benefit received from Isokrates, since each of them was required to pay to him a fee of 1000 drachmæ.57 During the first sojourn of Aristotle in Athens (362-347 B.C.), while he was still attached to and receiving instruction from Plato, he appears to have devoted himself more to rhetoric than to philosophy, and even to have given public lessons or lectures on rhetoric. He thus entered into rivalry with Isokrates, for whom, as a teacher and author, he contracted dislike or contempt.

The composition of Isokrates was extremely elegant: his structure of sentences was elaborate even to excess, his arrangement of words rhythmical, his phrases nicely balanced in antithetical equipoise, like those of his master Gorgias; the recital of his discourses proved highly captivating to the ear.58 Moreover, he had composed a book of rhetorical precepts known and esteemed by Cicero and Quintilian. Besides such technical excellence, Isokrates strove to attain, and to a certain extent actually attained, a higher order of merit. He familiarized his pupils with thoughts and arguments of lofty bearing and comprehensive interest; not assisting them to gain victory either in any real issue tried before the Dikasts, or in any express motion about to be voted on by the public assembly, but predisposing their minds to prize above all things the great Pan-hellenic aggregate — its independence in regard to external force, and internal harmony among its constituent cities, with a reasonable recognition of presidential authority, equitably divided between Athens and Sparta, and exercised with moderation by both. He inculcated sober habits and deference to legal authority on the part of the democrats of Athens; he impressed upon princes, like Philip and Nikokles, the importance of just and mild bearing towards subjects.59 Such is the general strain of the discourses which we now possess from Isokrates; though he appears to have adopted it only in middle life, having begun at first in the more usual track of the logographer — composing speeches to be delivered before the Dikastery by actual plaintiffs or defendants,60 and acquiring thus both reputation and profit. His reputation as a teacher was not only maintained but even increased when he altered his style; and he made himself peculiarly attractive to foreign pupils who desired to acquire a command of graceful expressions, without special reference to the Athenian Assembly and Dikastery. But his new style being midway between Demosthenes and Plato — between the practical advocate and politician on one side, and the generalizing or speculative philosopher on the other — he incurred as a semi-philosopher, professing to have discovered the juste milieu, more or less of disparagement from both extremes;61 and Aristotle, while yet a young man in the Platonic school, raised an ardent controversy against his works, on the ground both of composition and teaching. Though the whole controversy is now lost, there is good ground for believing that Aristotle must have displayed no small acrimony. He appears to have impugned the Isokratean discourses, partly as containing improper dogmas, partly as specimens of mere unimpressive elegance, intended for show, pomp, and immediate admiration from the hearer — ad implendas aures — but destitute both of comprehensive theory and of applicability to any useful purpose.62 Kephisodôrus, an intimate friend and pupil of Isokrates, defended him in an express reply, attacking both Aristotle the scholar and Plato the master. This reply was in four books, and Dionysius characterizes it by an epithet of the highest praise.63

These polemics of Aristotle were begun during his first residence at Athens, prior to 347 B.C., the year of Plato’s decease, and at the time when he was still accounted a member of the Platonic school. They exemplify the rivalry between that school and the Isokratean, which were then the two competing places of education at Athens: and we learn that Aristotle, at that time only a half-fledged Platonist, opened on his own account not a new philosophical school in competition with Plato, as some state, but a new rhetorical school in opposition to Isokrates.64 But the case was different at the latter epoch, 335 B.C., when Aristotle came to reside at Athens for the second time. Isokrates was then dead, leaving no successor, so that his rhetorical school expired with him. Aristotle preferred philosophy to rhetoric: he was no longer trammelled by the living presence and authority of Plato. The Platonic school at the Academy stood at that time alone, under Xenokrates, who, though an earnest and dignified philosopher, was deficient in grace and in persuasiveness, and had been criticized for this defect even by Plato himself. Aristotle possessed those gifts in large measure, as we know from the testimony of Antipater. By these circumstances, coupled with his own established reputation and well-grounded self-esteem, he was encouraged to commence a new philosophical school; a school, in which philosophy formed the express subject of the morning lecture, while rhetoric was included as one among the subjects of more varied and popular instruction given in the afternoon.65 During the twelve ensuing years, Aristotle’s rivalry was mainly against the Platonists or Xenokrateans at the Academy; embittered on both sides by acrimonious feelings, which these expressed by complaining of his ingratitude and unfairness towards the common master, Plato.

There were thus, at Athens, three distinct parties inspired with unfriendly sentiment towards Aristotle: first, the Isokrateans; afterwards, the Platonists; along with both, the anti-Macedonian politicians. Hence we can account for what Themistius entitles the “army of assailants” (στράτον ὅλον) that fastened upon him, for the unfavourable colouring with which his domestic circumstances are presented, and for the necessity under which he lay of Macedonian protection; so that when such protection was nullified, giving place to a reactionary fervour, his residence at Athens became both disagreeable and insecure.

 

 

 

 

In the fourth and fifth chapters of my work on ‘Plato and the Other Companions of Sokrates,’ I investigated the question of the Platonic Canon, and attempted to determine, upon the best grounds open to us, the question, What are the real works of Plato? I now propose to discuss the like question respecting Aristotle.

But the premisses for such a discussion are much less simple in regard to Aristotle than in regard to Plato. As far as the testimony of antiquity goes, we learn that the Canon of Thrasyllus, dating at least from the time of the Byzantine Aristophanes, and probably from an earlier time, was believed by all readers to contain the authentic works of Plato and none others; an assemblage of dialogues, some unfinished, but each undivided and unbroken. The only exception to unanimity in regard to the Platonic Canon, applies to ten dialogues, which were received by some (we do not know by how many, or by whom) as Platonic, but which, as Diogenes informs us, were rejected by agreement of the most known and competent critics. This is as near to unanimity as can be expected. The doubts, now so multiplied, respecting the authenticity of various dialogues included in the Canon of Thrasyllus, have all originated with modern scholars since the beginning of the present century, or at least since the earlier compositions of Wyttenbach. It was my task to appreciate the value of those doubts; and, in declining to be guided by them, I was at least able to consider myself as adhering to the views of all known ancient critics.

Very different is the case when we attempt to frame an Aristotelian Canon, comprising all the works of Aristotle and none others. We find the problem far more complicated, and the matters of evidence at once more defective, more uncertain, and more contradictory.

The different works now remaining, and published in the Berlin edition of Aristotle, are forty-six in number. But, among these, several were disallowed or suspected even by some ancient critics, while modern critics have extended the like judgment yet farther. Of several others again, the component sections (either the books, in our present phraseology, or portions thereof) appear to have existed once as detached rolls, to have become disjointed or even to have parted company, and to have been re-arranged or put together into aggregates, according to the judgment of critics and librarians. Examples of such doubtful aggregates, or doubtful arrangements, will appear when we review the separate Aristotelian compositions (the Metaphysica, Politica, &c.). It is, however, by one or more of these forty-six titles that Aristotle is known to modern students, and was known to mediæval students.

But the case was very different with ancient literati, such as Eratosthenes, Polybius, Cicero, Strabo, Plutarch, &c., down to the time of Alexander of Aphrodisias, Athenæus, Diogenes Laertius, &c., towards the close of the second century after the Christian era. It is certain that these ancients perused many works of Aristotle, or generally recognized as his, which we do not now possess; and among those which we do now possess, there are many which it is not certain that they perused, or even knew.

Diogenes Laertius, after affirming generally that Aristotle had composed a prodigious number of books (πάμπλειστα βίβλια), proceeds to say, that, in consequence of the excellence of the author in every variety of composition, he thinks it proper to indicate them briefly.1 He then enumerates one hundred and forty-six distinct titles of works, with the number of books or sections contained in each work. The subjects are exceedingly heterogeneous, and the form of composition likewise very different; those which come first in the list being Dialogues,2 while those which come last are Epistles, Hexameters, and Elegies. At the close of the list we read: “All of them together are 445,270 lines, and this is the number of books (works) composed by Aristotle.”3 A little farther on, Diogenes adds, as an evidence of the extraordinary diligence and inventive force of Aristotle, that the books (works) enumerated in the preceding list were nearly four hundred in number, and that these were not contested by any one; but that there were many other writings, and dicta besides, ascribed to Aristotle — ascribed (we must understand him to mean) erroneously, or at least so as to leave much doubt.4

We have another distinct enumeration of the titles of Aristotle’s works, prepared by an anonymous biographer cited in the notes of Ménage to Diogenes Laertius.5 This anonymous list contains only one hundred and twenty-seven titles, being nineteen less than the list in Diogenes. The greater number of titles are the same in both; but Anonymus has eight titles which are not found in Diogenes, while Diogenes has twenty-seven titles which are not given by Anonymus. There are therefore thirty-five titles which rest on the evidence of one alone out of the two lists. Anonymus does not specify any total number of lines; nevertheless he gives the total number of books composed by Aristotle as being nearly four hundred — the same as Diogenes. This total number cannot be elicited out of the items enumerated by Anonymus; but it may be made to coincide pretty nearly with the items in Diogenes,6 provided we understand by books, sections or subdivisions of one and the same title or work.

The two catalogues just mentioned, agreeing as they do in the total number of books and in the greater part of the items, may probably be considered not as original and copy, but as inaccurate transcripts from the same original authority. Yet neither of the two transcribers tells us what that original authority was. We may, however, be certain that each of them considered his catalogue to comprehend all that Aristotle could be affirmed on good authority to have published; Diogenes plainly signifies thus much, when he gives not only the total number of books, but the total number of lines. Such being the case, we expect to find in it, of course, the titles of the forty-six works composing the Berlin edition of Aristotle now before us. But this expectation is disappointed. The far greater number of the Aristotelian works which we now peruse are not specified either in the list of Diogenes, or in that of Anonymus.7 Moreover, the lists also fail to specify the titles of various works which are not now extant, but which we know from Aristotle himself that he really composed.8

The last-mentioned fact is in itself sufficiently strange and difficult to explain, and our difficulty becomes aggravated when we combine it with another fact hardly less surprising. Both Cicero, and other writers of the century subsequent to him (Dionysius Hal., Quintilian, &c.), make reference to Aristotle, and especially to his dialogues, of which none have been preserved, though the titles of several are given in the two catalogues mentioned above. These writers bestow much encomium on the style of Aristotle; but what is remarkable is, that they ascribe to it attributes which even his warmest admirers will hardly find in the Aristotelian works now remaining. Cicero extols the sweetness, the abundance, the variety, the rhetorical force which he discovered in Aristotle’s writings: he even goes so far as to employ the phrase “flumen orationis aureum” (a golden stream of speech), in characterizing the Aristotelian style.9 Such predicates may have been correct, indeed were doubtless correct, in regard to the dialogues, and perhaps other lost works of Aristotle; but they describe exactly the opposite10 of what we find in all the works preserved. With most of these (except the History of Animals) Cicero manifests no acquaintance; and some of the best modern critics declare him to have been ignorant of them.11 Nor do other ancient authors, Plutarch, Athenæus, Diogenes Laertius, &c., give evidence of having been acquainted with the principal works of Aristotle known to us. They make reference only to works enumerated in the Catalogue of Diogenes Laertius.12

Here, then, we find several embarrassing facts in regard to the Aristotelian Canon. Most of the works now accepted and known as belonging to Aristotle, are neither included in the full Aristotelian Catalogue given by Diogenes, nor were they known to Cicero; who, moreover, ascribes to Aristotle attributes of style not only different, but opposite, to those which our Aristotle presents. Besides, more than twenty of the compositions entered in the Catalogue are dialogues, of which form our Aristotle affords not a single specimen: while others relate to matters of ancient exploit or personal history; collected proverbs; accounts of the actual constitution of many Hellenic cities; lists of the Pythian victors and of the scenic representations; erotic discourses; legendary narratives, embodied in a miscellaneous work called ‘Peplus’ — a title perhaps borrowed from the Peplus or robe of Athênê at the Panathenaic festival, embroidered with various figures by Athenian women; a symposion or banquet-colloquy; and remarks on intoxication. All these subjects are foreign in character to those which our Aristotle treats.13

The difficulty of harmonizing our Aristotle with the Aristotle of the Catalogue is thus considerable. It has been so strongly felt in recent years, that one of the ablest modern critics altogether dissevers the two, and pronounces the works enumerated in the Catalogue not to belong to our Aristotle. I allude to Valentine Rose, who in his very learned and instructive volume, ‘Aristoteles Pseudepigraphus,’ has collected and illustrated the fragments which remain of these works. He considers them all pseudo-Aristotelian, composed by various unknown members of the Peripatetic school, during the century or two immediately succeeding the death of Aristotle, and inscribed with the illustrious name of the master, partly through fraud of the sellers, partly through carelessness of purchasers and librarians.14 Emil Heitz, on the other hand, has argued more recently, that upon the external evidence as it stands, a more correct conclusion to draw would be (the opposite of that drawn by Rose, viz.): That the works enumerated in the Catalogue are the true and genuine; and that those which we possess, or most of them, are not really composed by Aristotle.15 Heitz thinks this conclusion better sustained than that of Rose, though he himself takes a different view, which I shall presently mention.

It will be seen from the foregoing observations how much more difficult it is to settle a genuine Canon for Aristotle than for Plato. I do not assent to either of the two conclusions just indicated; but I contend that, if we applied to this question the same principles of judgment as those which modern Platonic critics often apply, when they allow or disallow dialogues of Plato, we should be obliged to embrace one or other of them, or at least something nearly approaching thereto. If a critic, after attentively studying the principal compositions now extant of our Aristotle, thinks himself entitled, on the faith of his acquired “Aristotelisches Gefühl,” to declare that no works differing materially from them (either in subject handled, or in manner of handling, or in degree of excellence), can have been composed by Aristotle — he will assuredly be forced to include in such rejection a large proportion of those indicated in the Catalogue of Diogenes. Especially he will be forced to reject the Dialogues — the very compositions by which Aristotle was best known to Cicero and his contemporaries. For the difference between them and the known compositions of Aristotle, not merely in form but in style (the style being known from the epithets applied to them by Cicero), must have been more marked and decisive than that between the Alkibiades, Hippias, Theages, Erastæ, Leges, &c. — which most Platonic critics now set aside as spurious — and the Republic, Protagoras, Gorgias, Philêbus, &c., which they treat as indisputably genuine.16

In discussing the Platonic Canon, I have already declared that I consider these grounds of rejection to be unsafe and misleading. Such judgment is farther confirmed, when we observe the consequences to which they would conduct in regard to the Aristotelian Canon. In fact, we must learn to admit among genuine works, both of Plato and Aristotle, great diversity in subject, in style, and in excellence.

I see no ground for distrusting the Catalogue given by Diogenes, as being in general an enumeration of works really composed by Aristotle. These works must have been lodged in some great library — probably the Alexandrine — where they were seen and counted, and the titles of them enrolled by some one or more among the literati, with a specification of the sum total obtained on adding together the lines contained in each.17 I do not deny the probability, that, in regard to some, the librarians may have been imposed upon, and that pseudo-Aristotelian works may have been admitted; but whether such was partially the fact or not, the general goodness of the Catalogue seems to me unimpeachable. As to the author of it, the most admissible conjecture seems that of Brandis and others, recently adopted and advocated by Heitz: that the Catalogue owes its origin to one of the Alexandrine literati; probably to Hermippus of Smyrna, a lettered man and a pupil of Kallimachus at Alexandria, between 240-210 B.C.. Diogenes does not indeed tell us from whom he borrowed the Catalogue; but in his life of Aristotle, he more than once cites Hermippus, as having treated of Aristotle and his biography in a work of some extent; and we know from other sources that Hermippus had devoted much attention to Aristotle as well as to other philosophers. If Hermippus be the author of this Catalogue, it must have been drawn up about the same time that the Byzantine Aristophanes arranged the dialogues of Plato. Probably, indeed, Kallimachus the chief librarian, had prepared the way for both of them. We know that he had drawn up comprehensive tables, including, not only the principal orators and dramatists, with an enumeration of their discourses and dramas, but also various miscellaneous authors, with the titles of their works. We know, farther, that he noticed Demokritus and Eudoxus, and we may feel assured that, in a scheme thus large, he would not omit Plato or Aristotle, the two great founders of the first philosophical schools, nor the specification of the works of each contained in the Alexandrine library.18 Heitz supposes that Hermippus was the author of most of the catalogues (not merely of Aristotle, but also of other philosophers) given by Diogenes;19 yet that nevertheless Diogenes himself had no direct acquaintance with the works of Hermippus, but copied these catalogues at second-hand from some later author, probably Favorinus. This last supposition is noway made out.

It seems thus probable that the Catalogue given by Diogenes derives its origin from Hermippus or Kallimachus, enumerating the titles of such works of Aristotle as were contained in the Alexandrine library. But the aggregate of works composing our Aristotle is noway in harmony with that Catalogue. It proceeds from a source independent and totally different, viz., the edition and classification first published by the Rhodian Andronikus, in the generation between the death of Cicero and the Christian era. To explain the existence of these two distinct and independent sources and channels, we must have recourse to the remarkable narrative (already noticed in my chapter on the Platonic Canon), delivered mainly by Strabo and less fully by Plutarch, respecting the fate of the Aristotelian library after Aristotle’s death.

At the decease of Aristotle, his library and MSS. came to Theophrastus, who continued chief of the Peripatetic school at Athens for thirty-five years, until his death in 287 B.C. Both Aristotle and Theophrastus not only composed many works of their own, but also laid out much money in purchasing or copying the works of others;20 especially we are told that Aristotle, after the death of Speusippus, expended three talents in purchasing his books. The entire library of Theophrastus, thus enriched from two sources, was bequeathed by his testament to a philosophical friend and pupil, Neleus;21 who left Athens, and carried away the library with him to his residence at the town of Skêpsis, in the Asiatic region known as Æolis, near Troad. At Skêpsis the library remained for the greater part of two centuries, in possession of the descendants of Neleus, men of no accomplishments and no taste for philosophy. It was about thirty or forty years after the death of Theophrastus that the kings of Pergamus began to occupy themselves in collecting their royal library, which presently reached a magnitude second only to that of Alexandria. Now Skêpsis was under their dominion, and it would seem that the kings seized the books belonging to their subjects for the use of the royal library; for we are told that the heirs of Neleus were forced to conceal their literary treasures in a cellar, subject to great injury, partly from damp, partly from worms. In this ruinous hiding-place the manuscripts remained for nearly a century and a half — “blattarum ac tinearum epulæ,” — until the Attalid dynasty at Pergamus became extinct. The last of these kings, Attalus, died in 133 B.C., bequeathing his kingdom to the Romans. All fear of requisitions for the royal library being thus at end, the manuscripts were in course of time withdrawn by their proprietors from concealment, and sold for a large sum to Apellikon, a native of Teos, a very rich resident at Athens, and attached to the Peripatetic sect. Probably this wealthy Peripatetic already possessed a library of his own, with some Aristotelian works; but the new acquisitions from Skêpsis, though not his whole stock, formed the most rare and precious ingredients in it. Here, then, the manuscripts and library both of Aristotle and Theophrastus became, for the first time since 287 B.C., open to the inspection of the Athenian Peripatetics of the time (about 100 B.C.), as well as of other learned men. Among the stock were contained many compositions which the Scholarchs, successors of Theophrastus at Athens, had neither possessed nor known.22 But the manuscripts were found imperfect, seriously damaged, and in a state of disorder. Apellikon did his best to remedy that mischief, by causing new copies to be taken, correcting what had become worm-eaten, and supplying what was defective or illegible. He appears to have been an erudite man, and had published a biography of Aristotle, refuting various calumnies advanced by other biographers; but being (in the words of Strabo) a lover of books rather than a philosopher, he performed the work of correction so unskilfully, that the copies which he published were found full of errors.23 In the year 86 B.C., Sylla besieged Athens, and captured it by storm; not long after which he took to himself as a perquisite the library of Apellikon, and transported it to Rome.24 It was there preserved under custody of a librarian, and various literary Greeks resident at Rome obtained access to it, especially Tyrannion, the friend of Cicero and a warm admirer of Aristotle, who took peculiar pains to gain the favour of the librarian.25 It was there also that the Rhodian Andronikus obtained access to the Aristotelian works.26 He classified them to a great degree anew, putting in juxtaposition the treatises most analogous in subject;27 moreover, he corrected the text, and published a new edition of the manuscripts, with a tabulated list. This was all the more necessary, because some booksellers at Rome, aiming only at sale and profit, had employed bad writers, and circulated inaccurate copies, not collated with the originals.28 These originals, however, were so damaged, and the restitutions made by Apellikon were so injudicious, that the more careful critics who now studied them were often driven to proceed on mere probable evidence.

This interesting narrative — delivered by Strabo, the junior contemporary of Andronikus, and probably derived by him either from Tyrannion his preceptor or from the Sidonian Boêthus29 and other philosophical companions jointly, with whom he had prosecuted the study of Aristotle — appears fully worthy of trust. The proceedings both of Apellikon and of Sylla prove, what indeed we might have presumed without proof, that the recovery of these long-lost original manuscripts of Aristotle and Theophrastus excited great sensation in the philosophical world of Athens and of Rome. With such newly-acquired materials, a new epoch began for the study of these authors. The more abstruse philosophical works of Aristotle now came into the foreground under the auspices of a new Scholarch; whereas Aristotle had hitherto been chiefly known by his more popular and readable compositions. Of these last, probably, copies may have been acquired to a certain extent by the previous Peripatetic Scholarchs or School at Athens; but the School had been irreparably impoverished, so far as regarded the deeper speculations of philosophy, by the loss of those original manuscripts which had been transported from Athens to Skêpsis. What Aristotelian Scholarchs, prior to Andronikus, chiefly possessed and studied, of the productions of their illustrious founder, were chiefly the exoteric or extra-philosophical and comparatively popular:— such as the dialogues; the legendary and historical collections; the facts respecting constitutional history of various Hellenic cities; the variety of miscellaneous problems respecting Homer and a number of diverse matters; the treatises on animals and on anatomy, &c.30 In the Alexandrine library (as we see by the Catalogue of Diogenes) there existed all these and several philosophical works also; but that library was not easily available for the use of the Scholarchs at Athens, who worked upon their own stock, confining themselves mainly to smooth and elegant discourses on particular questions, and especially to discussions, with the Platonists, Stoics, and Epikureans, on the principia of Ethics, without any attempt either to follow up or to elucidate the more profound speculations (logical, physical, metaphysical, cosmical) of Aristotle himself. A material change took place when the library of Apellikon came to be laid open and studied, not merely by lecturers in the professorial chair at Athens, but also by critics like Tyrannion and Andronikus at Rome. These critics found therein the most profound and difficult philosophical works of Aristotle in the handwriting of the philosopher himself; some probably, of which copies may have already existed in the Alexandrine library, but some also as yet unpublished. The purpose of Andronikus, who is described as Peripatetic Scholarch, eleventh in succession from Aristotle, was not simply to make a Catalogue (as Hermippus had made at Alexandria), but to render a much greater service, which no critic could render without having access to original MSS., namely, to obtain a correct text of the books actually before him, to arrange these books in proper order, and then to publish and explain them,31 but to take no account of other Aristotelian works in the Alexandrine library or elsewhere. The Aristotelian philosophy thus passed into a new phase. Our editions of Aristotle may be considered as taking their date from this critical effort of Andronikus, with or without subsequent modifications by others, as the case may be.

The explanation just given, coinciding on many points with Brandis and Heitz, affords the most probable elucidation of that obscurity which arises about the Aristotelian Canon, when we compare our Aristotle with the Catalogue of Diogenes — the partial likeness, but still greater discrepancy, between the two. It is certain that neither Cicero32 nor the great Alexandrine literati, anterior to and contemporary with him, knew Aristotle from most of the works which we now possess. They knew him chiefly from the dialogues, the matters of history and legend, some zoological books, and the problems; the dialogues, and the historical collections respecting the constitutions of Hellenic cities,33 being more popular and better known than any other works. While the Republic of Plato is familiar to them, they exhibit no knowledge of our Aristotelian Politica, in which treatise the criticism upon the Platonic Republic is among the most interesting parts. When we look through the contents of our editions of Aristotle the style and manner of handling is indeed pretty much the same throughout, but the subjects will appear extremely diverse and multifarious; and the encyclopedical character of the author, as to science and its applications, will strike us forcibly. The entire and real Aristotle, however, was not only more encyclopedical as to subjects handled, but also more variable as to style and manner of handling; passing from the smooth, sweet, and flowing style — which Cicero extols as characterizing the Aristotelian dialogues — to the elliptical brevity and obscurity which we now find so puzzling in the De Animâ and the Metaphysica.34

I shall assume this variety, both of subject and of handling, as a feature to be admitted and allowed for in Aristotle, when I come to discuss the objections of some critics against the authenticity of certain treatises among the forty-six which now pass under his name. But in canvassing the Aristotelian Canon I am unable to take the same ground as I took in my former work, when reviewing the Platonic Canon. In regard to Plato, I pointed out a strong antecedent presumption in favour of the Canon of Thrasyllus — a canon derived originally from the Alexandrine librarians, and sustained by the unanimous adhesion of antiquity. In regard to Aristotle, there are no similar grounds of presumption to stand upon. We have good reason for believing that the works both of Plato and Aristotle — if not all the works, at least many of them, and those the most generally interesting — were copied and transmitted early to the Alexandrine library. Now our Plato represents that which was possessed and accredited as Platonic by the Byzantine Aristophanes and the other Alexandrine librarians; but our Aristotle does not, in my judgment, represent what these librarians possessed and accredited as Aristotelian. That which they thus accredited stands recorded in the Catalogue given by Diogenes, probably the work of Hermippus, as I have already stated; while our Aristotle is traceable to the collection at Athens, including that of Apellikon, with that which he bought from the heirs of Neleus, and to the sifting, correction, and classification, applied thereto by able critics of the first century B.C. and subsequently; among whom Andronikus is best known. We may easily believe that the library of Apellikon contained various compositions of Aristotle, which had never been copied for the Alexandrine library — perhaps never prepared for publication at all, so that the task of arranging detached sections or morsels into a whole, with one separate title, still remained to be performed. This was most likely to be the case with abstruser speculations, like the component books of the Metaphysica, which Theophrastus may not have been forward to tender, and which the library might not be very eager to acquire, having already near four hundred other volumes by the same author. These reserved works would therefore remain in the library of Theophrastus, not copied and circulated (or at least circulated only to a few private philosophical brethren, such as Eudêmus), so that they never became fully published until the days of Apellikon.35

But though the edition published by Andronikus would thus contain many genuine works of Aristotle not previously known or edited, we cannot be sure that it would not also include some which were spurious. Reflect what the library of Apellikon, transported to Rome by Sylla, really was. There was in it the entire library of Theophrastus; probably, also, that of Neleus, who must have had some books of his own, besides what he inherited from Theophrastus. It included all the numerous manuscript works composed by Aristotle and Theophrastus, and many other manuscript works purchased or acquired by them, but composed by others — the whole in very bad order and condition; and, moreover, the books which Apellikon possessed before, doubtless as many Aristotelian books as he could purchase. To distinguish, among this heterogeneous mass of manuscripts, which of them were the manuscripts composed by Aristotle; to separate these from the writings of Theophrastus, Eudêmus, or other authors, who composed various works of their own upon the same subjects and with the same titles as those of Aristotle — required extreme critical discernment and caution; the rather, since there was no living companion of Aristotle or Theophrastus to guide or advise, more than a century and a half having elapsed since the death of Theophrastus, and two centuries since that of Aristotle. Such were the difficulties amidst which Apellikon, Tyrannion, and Andronikus had to decide, when they singled out the manuscripts of Aristotle to be published. I will not say that they decided wrongly; yet neither can I contend (as I argued in the case of the Platonic dialogues) that the presumption is very powerful in favour of that Canon which their decision made legal. The case is much more open to argument, if any grounds against the decision can be urged.

Andronikus put in, arranged, and published the treatises of Aristotle (or those which he regarded as composed by Aristotle) included in the library conveyed by Sylla to Rome. I have already observed, that among these treatises there were some, of which copies existed in the Alexandrine library (as represented by the Catalogue of Diogenes), but a still greater number which cannot be identified with the titles remaining of works there preserved. As to the works common to both libraries, we must remember that Andronikus introduced a classification of his own, analogous to the Enneads applied by Porphyry to the works of Plotinus, and to the Tetralogies adopted by Thrasyllus in regard to the Dialogues of Plato; so that even these works might not be distributed in the same partitions under each of the two arrangements. And this is what we actually see when we compare the Catalogue of Diogenes with our Aristotle. Rhetoric, Ethics, Physics, Problems, &c., appear in both as titles or subjects, but distributed into a different number of books or sections in one and in the other; perhaps, indeed, the compositions are not always the same.

Before I proceed to deal with the preserved works of Aristotle — those by which alone he is known to us, and was known to mediæval readers, I shall say a few words respecting the import of a distinction which has been much canvassed, conveyed in the word exoteric and its opposite. This term, used on various occasions by Aristotle himself, has been also employed by many ancient critics, from Cicero downwards; while by mediæval and modern critics, it has not merely been employed, but also analysed and elucidated. According to Cicero (the earliest writer subsequent to Aristotle in whom we find the term), it designates one among two classes of works composed by Aristotle: exoteric works were those composed in a popular style and intended for a large, indiscriminate circle of readers: being contrasted with other works of elaborated philosophical reasoning, which were not prepared for the public taste, but left in the condition of memorials for the instruction of a more select class of studious men. Two points are to be observed respecting Cicero’s declaration. First, he applies it to the writings not of Aristotle exclusively, but also to those of Theophrastus, and even of succeeding Peripatetics; secondly, he applies it directly to such of their writings only as related to the discussion of the Summum Bonum.36 Furthermore, Cicero describes the works which Aristotle called exoteric, as having proems or introductory prefaces.37

In the main, the distinction here drawn by Cicero, understood in a very general sense, has been accepted by most following critics as intended by the term exoteric: something addressed to a wide, indiscriminate circle of general readers or hearers, and intelligible or interesting to them without any special study or training — as contrasted with that which is reserved for a smaller circle of students assumed to be specially qualified. But among those who agree in this general admission, many differences have prevailed. Some have thought that the term was not used by Aristotle to designate any writings either of his own or of others, but only in allusion to informal oral dialogues or debates. Others again, feeling assured that Aristotle intended by the term to signify some writings of his own, have searched among the works preserved, as well as among the titles of the works lost, to discriminate such as the author considered to be exoteric: though this search has certainly not ended in unanimity; nor do I think it has been successful. Again, there have not been wanting critics (among them, Thomas Aquinas and Sepulveda), who assign to the term a meaning still more vague and undefined; contending that when Aristotle alludes to “exoteric discourses,” he indicates simply some other treatise of his own, distinct from that in which the allusion occurs, without meaning to imply anything respecting its character.38

To me it appears that this last explanation is untenable, and that the term exoteric designates matter of a certain character, assignable to some extent by positive marks, but still more by negative; matter, in part, analogous to that defined by Cicero and other critics. But to conceive clearly or fully what its character is, we must turn to Aristotle himself, who is of course the final authority, wherever he can be found to speak in a decisive manner. His preserved works afford altogether eight passages (two of them indeed in the Eudemian Ethics, which, for the present at least, I shall assume to be his work), wherein the phrase “exoteric discourses” (ἐξωτερικοὶ λόγοι) occurs. Out of these eight passages, there are seven which present the phrase as designating some unknown matter, not farther specified, but distinct from the work in which the phrase occurs: “Enough has been said (or is said, Aristotle intimates) about this subject, even in the exoteric discourses.” To what it is that he here alludes — whether to other writings of his own or oral discussions of his own, or writing and speech of a particular sort by others — we are left to interpret as we best may, by probable reason or conjecture. But there is one among the eight passages, in which Aristotle uses the term exoteric as describing, not what is to be looked for elsewhere, but what he is himself about to give in the treatise in hand. In the fourth book of the Physica, he discusses the three high abstractions, Place, Vacuum, Time. After making an end of the first two, he enters upon the third, beginning with the following words:— “It follows naturally on what has been said, that we should treat respecting Time. But first it is convenient to advert to the difficulties involved in it, by exoteric discourse also — whether Time be included among entities or among non-entities; then afterwards, what is its nature. Now a man might suspect, from the following reasons, that Time either absolutely does not exist, or exists scarcely and dimly,” &c. Aristotle then gives a string of dialectic reasons, lasting through one of the columns of the Berlin edition, for doubting whether Time really exists. He afterwards proceeds thus, through two farther columns:— “Let these be enumerated as the difficulties accompanying the attributes of Time. What Time is, and what is its nature, is obscure, as well from what has been handed down to us by others, as from what we ourselves have just gone through;”39 and this question also he first discusses dialectically, and then brings to a solution.

Now what is it that Aristotle here means by “exoteric discourse?” We may discover by reading the matter comprised between the two foregoing citations. We find a string of perplexing difficulties connected with the supposition that Time exists: such as, “That all Time is either past or future, of which the former no longer exists, and the latter does not yet exist; that the Now is no part of Time, for every Whole is composed of its Parts, and Time is not composed of Nows,” &c. I do not go farther here into these subtle suggestions, because my present purpose is only to illustrate what Aristotle calls “exoteric discourse,” by exhibiting what he himself announces to be a specimen thereof. It is the process of noticing and tracing out all the doubts and difficulties (ἀπορίας) which beset the enquiry in hand, along with the different opinions entertained about it either by the vulgar, or by individual philosophers, and the various reasons whereby such opinions may be sustained or impugned. It is in fact the same process as that which, when performed (as it was habitually and actively in his age) between two disputants, he calls dialectic debate; and which he seeks to encourage as well as to regulate in his treatise entitled Topica. He contrasts it with philosophy, or with the strictly didactic and demonstrative procedure: wherein the teacher lays down principles which he requires the learner to admit, and then deduces from them, by syllogisms constructed in regular form, consequences indisputably binding on all who have admitted the principles. But though Aristotle thus distinguishes Dialectic from Philosophy, he at the same time declares it to be valuable as an auxiliary towards the purpose of philosophy, and as an introductory exercise before the didactic stage begins. The philosopher ought to show his competence as a dialectician, by indicating and handling those various difficulties and controversies bearing on his subject, which have already been made known, either in writings or in oral debate.40

We thus learn, from the example furnished by Aristotle himself, what he means by “exoteric discourses.” The epithet means literally, extraneous to, lying on the outside of; in the present case, on the outside of philosophy, considered in its special didactic and demonstrative march.41 Yet what thus lies outside philosophy, is nevertheless useful as an accompaniment and preparation for philosophy. We shall find Aristotle insisting upon this in his Topica and Analytica; and we shall also find him introducing the exoteric treatment into his most abstruse philosophical treatises (the Physica is one of the most abstruse) as an accompaniment and auxiliary — a dialectic survey of opinions, puzzles, and controverted points, before he begins to lay down and follow out affirmative principles of his own. He does this not only throughout the Physica (in several other passages besides that which I have just cited),42 but also in the Metaphysica, the treatises De Animâ, De Generatione et Corruptione, &c.

Having thus learnt to understand, from one distinct passage of Aristotle himself, what he means by “exoteric discourses,” we must interpret by the light of this analogy the other indistinct passages in which the phrase occurs. We see clearly that in using the phrase, he does not of necessity intend to refer to any other writings of his own — nor even to any other writings at all. He may possibly mean this; but we cannot be sure of it. He means by the phrase, a dialectic process of turning over and criticizing diverse opinions and probabilities: whether in his own writings, or in those of others, or in no writings at all, but simply in those oral debates which his treatise called Topica presupposes — this is a point which the phrase itself does not determine. He may mean to allude, in some cases where he uses the phrase, to his own lost dialogues; but he may also allude to Platonic and other dialogues, or to colloquies carried on orally by himself with his pupils, or to oral debates on intellectual topics between other active-minded men. When Bernays refers “exoteric discourse” to the lost Aristotelian Dialogues; when Madvig, Zeller, Torstrick, Forchhammer, and others, refer it to the contemporary oral dialectic43 — I think that neither of these explanations is in itself inadmissible. The context of each particular passage must decide which of the two is the more probable. We cannot go farther, in explaining the seven doubtful passages where Aristotle alludes to the “exoteric discourses,” than to understand the general character and scope of the reasonings which he thus designates. Extra-philosophical, double-sided, dialectic, is in general (he holds) insufficient by itself, and valuable only as a preparation and auxiliary to the didactic process. But there are some particular points on which such dialectic leaves a result sufficient and satisfactory, which can be safely accepted as the basis of future deduction. These points he indicates in the passages above cited; without informing us more particularly whether the dialectic was written or spoken, and whether by himself or by others.44

From the time of Cicero downward, a distinction has been drawn between some books of Aristotle which were exoteric, and others that were not so; these last being occasionally designated as akroamatic. Some modern critics have farther tried to point out which, among the preserved works of Aristotle, belonged to each of these heads. Now there existed, doubtless, in the days of Cicero, Strabo, Plutarch, and Gellius, books of Aristotle properly called exoteric, i.e. consisting almost entirely of exoteric discourse and debate; though whether Aristotle himself would have spoken of an exoteric book, I have some doubt. Of such a character were his Dialogues. But all the works designated as akroamatic (or non-exoteric) must probably have contained a certain admixture of “exoteric discourse”; as the Physica (Φυσικὴ Ἀκρόασις) and the Metaphysica are seen to contain now. The distinction indicated by Cicero would thus be really between one class of works, wherein “exoteric discourse” was exclusive or paramount, — and another, in which it was partially introduced, subordinate to some specified didactic purpose.45 To this last class belong all the works of Aristotle that we possess at present. Cicero would have found none of them corresponding to his notion of an exoteric book.

To understand fully the extent comprehended by the word exoteric, we must recollect that its direct and immediate meaning is negative — extraneous to philosophy, and suitable to an audience not specially taught or prepared for philosophy. Now this negative characteristic belongs not merely to dialectic (as we see it in the example above cited from the Aristotelian Physica), but also to rhetoric or rhetorical argument. We know that, in Aristotle’s mind, the rhetorical handling and the dialectical handling, are placed both of them under the same head, as dealing with opinions rather than with truth.46 Both the one and the other are parted off from the didactic or demonstrative march which leads to philosophical truth; though dialectic has a distant affinity with that march, and is indeed available as an auxiliary skirmisher. The term exoteric will thus comprehend both rhetorical argument and dialectical argument.47 Of the latter, we have just seen a specimen extracted from the Physica; of the former, I know no specimen remaining, but there probably were many of them in the Aristotelian dialogues now lost — that which was called ‘Eudemus,’ and others. With these dialogues Cicero was probably more familiar than with any other composition of Aristotle. I think it highly probable that Aristotle alludes to the dialogues in some of the passages where he refers to “exoteric discourses.” To that extent I agree with Bernays; but I see no reason to believe (as he does) that the case is the same with all the passages, or that the epithet is to be understood always as implying one of these lost Aristotelian dialogues.48

There grew up, in the minds of some commentators, a supposition of “exoteric doctrine” as denoting what Aristotle promulgated to the public, contrasted with another secret or mystic doctrine reserved for a special few, and denoted by the term esoteric; though this term is not found in use before the days of Lucian.49 I believe the supposition of a double doctrine to be mistaken in regard to Aristotle; but it is true as to the Pythagoreans, and is not without some colour of truth even as to Plato. That Aristotle employed one manner of explanation and illustration, when discussing with advanced pupils, and another, more or less different, when addressing an unprepared audience, we may hold as certain and even unavoidable; but this does not amount to a double positive doctrine. Properly speaking, indeed, the term “exoteric” (as I have just explained it out of Aristotle himself) does not designate, or even imply, any positive doctrine at all. It denotes a many-sided controversial debate, in which numerous points are canvassed and few settled; the express purpose being to bring into full daylight the perplexing aspects of each. There are indeed a few exceptional cases, in which “exoteric discourse” will itself have thrown up a tolerably trustworthy result: these few (as I have above shown) Aristotle occasionally singles out and appeals to. But as a general rule, there is no doctrine which can properly be called exoteric: the “exoteric discourse” suggests many new puzzles, but terminates without any solution at all. The doctrine, whenever any such is proved, emerges out of the didactic process which follows.

 

 

 

 

 

Of the prodigious total of works composed by Aristotle, I have already mentioned that the larger number have perished. But there still remain about forty treatises, of authenticity not open to any reasonable suspicion, which attest the grandeur of his intelligence, in respect of speculative force, positive as well as negative, systematizing patience, comprehensive curiosity as to matters of fact, and diversified applications of detail. In taking account of these treatises, we perceive some in which the order of sequence is determined by assignable reasons; as regards others, no similar grounds of preference appear. The works called 1. De Cœlo; 2. De Generatione et Corruptione; 3. Meteorologica, — are marked out as intended to be studied in immediate succession, and the various Zoological treatises after them. The cluster entitled Parva Naturalia is complementary to the treatise De Animâ. The Physica Auscultatio is referred to in the Metaphysica, and discusses many questions identical or analogous, standing in the relation of prior to a posterior, as the titles indicate; though the title ‘Metaphysica’ is not affixed or recognized by Aristotle himself, and the treatise so called includes much that goes beyond the reach of the Physica. As to the treatises on Logic, Rhetoric, Ethics, Politics, Poetics, Mechanics, &c., we are left to fix for ourselves the most convenient order of study. Of no one among them can we assign the date of composition or publication. There are indeed in the Rhetorica, Politics, and Meteorologica, various allusions which must have been written later than some given events of known date; but these allusions may have been later additions, and cannot be considered as conclusively proving, though they certainly raise a presumption, that the entire work was written subsequently to those events.

The proper order in which the works of Aristotle ought to be studied (like the order proper for studying the Platonic dialogues),1 was matter of debate from the time of his earliest editors and commentators, in the century immediately preceding the Christian era. Boêthus the Sidonian (Strabo’s contemporary and fellow-student) recommended that the works on natural philosophy and physiology should be perused first; contending that these were the easiest, the most interesting, and, on the whole, the most successful among all the Aristotelian productions. Some Platonists advised that the ethical treatises should be put in the front rank, on the ground of their superior importance for correcting bad habits and character; others assigned the first place to the mathematics, as exhibiting superior firmness in the demonstrations. But Andronikus himself, the earliest known editor of Aristotle’s works, arranged them in a different order, placing the logical treatises at the commencement of his edition. He considered these treatises, taken collectively, to be not so much a part of philosophy as an Organon or instrument, the use of which must be acquired by the reader before he became competent to grasp or comprehend philosophy; as an exposition of method rather than of doctrine.2 From the time of Andronikus downward, the logical treatises have always stood first among the written or printed works of Aristotle. They have been known under the collective title of the ‘Organon,’ and as such it will be convenient still to regard them.3

These treatises are six in number:— 1. Categoriæ;4 2. De Interpretatione, or De Enunciatione; 3. Analytica Priora; 4. Analytica Posteriora; 5. Topica; 6. De Sophisticis Elenchis. This last short treatise — De Sophisticis Elenchis — belongs naturally to the Topica which precedes it, and of which it ought to be ranked as the ninth or concluding book. Waitz has printed it as such in his edition of the Organon; but as it has been generally known with a separate place and title, I shall not depart from the received understanding.

Aristotle himself does not announce these six treatises as forming a distinct aggregate, nor as belonging to one and the same department, nor as bearing one comprehensive name. We find indeed in the Topica references to the Analytica, and in the Analytica references to the Topica. In both of them, the ten Categories are assumed and presupposed, though the treatise describing them is not expressly mentioned: to both also, the contents of the treatise De Interpretatione or Enunciatione, though it is not named, are indispensable. The affinity and interdependence of the six is evident, and justifies the practice of the commentators in treating them as belonging to one and the same department. To that department there belonged also several other treatises of Aristotle, not now preserved, but specified in the catalogue of his lost works; and these his disciples Theophrastus, Eudemus, and Phanias, had before them. As all these three disciples composed treatises of their own on the same or similar topics,5 amplifying, elucidating, or controverting the views of their master, the Peripatetics immediately succeeding them must have possessed a copious logical literature, in which the six treatises now constituting the Organon appeared as portions, but not as a special aggregate in themselves.

Of the two treatises which stand first in the Aristotelian Organon — the Categoriæ and the De Interpretatione — each forms in a certain sense the complement of the other. The treatise De Interpretatione handles Propositions (combinations of terms in the way of Subject and Predicate), with prominent reference to the specific attribute of a Proposition — the being true or false, the object of belief or disbelief; the treatise Categoriæ deals with these same Terms (to use Aristotle’s own phrase) pronounced without or apart from such combination. In his definition of the simple Term, the Proposition is at the same time assumed to be foreknown as the correlate or antithesis to it.6

The first distinction pointed out by Aristotle among simple, uncombined Terms, or the things denoted thereby, is the Homonymous, the Synonymous, and the Paronymous. Homonymous are those which are called by the same name, used in a different sense or with a different definition or rational explanation. Synonymous are those called by the same name in the same sense. Paronymous are those called by two names, of which the one is derived from the other by varying the inflexion or termination.7

We can hardly doubt that it was Aristotle who first gave this peculiar distinctive meaning to the two words Homonymous and Synonymous, rendered in modern phraseology (through the Latin) Equivocal and Univocal. Before his time this important distinction between different terms had no technical name to designate it. The service rendered to Logic by introducing such a technical term, and by calling attention to the lax mode of speaking which it indicated, was great. In every branch of his writings Aristotle perpetually reverts to it, applying it to new cases, and especially to those familiar universal words uttered most freely and frequently, under the common persuasion that their meaning is not only thoroughly known but constant and uniform. As a general fact, students are now well acquainted with this source of error, though the stream of particular errors flowing from it is still abundant, ever renewed and diversified. But in the time of Aristotle the source itself had never yet been pointed out emphatically to notice, nor signalized by any characteristic term as by a beacon. The natural bias which leads us to suppose that one term always carries one and the same meaning, was not counteracted by any systematic warning or generalized expression. Sokrates and Plato did indeed expose many particular examples of undefined and equivocal phraseology. No part of the Platonic writings is more valuable than the dialogues in which this operation is performed, forcing the respondent to feel how imperfectly he understands the phrases constantly in use. But it is rarely Plato’s practice to furnish generalized positive warnings or systematic distinctions. He has no general term corresponding to homonymous or equivocal; and there are even passages where (under the name of Prodikus) he derides or disparages a careful distinctive analysis of different significations of the same name. To recognize a class of equivocal terms and assign thereto a special class-name, was an important step in logical procedure; and that step, among so many others, was made by Aristotle.8

Though Aristotle has professed to distinguish between terms implicated in predication, and terms not so implicated,9 yet when he comes to explain the functions of the latter class, he considers them in reference to their functions as constituent members of propositions. He immediately begins by distinguishing four sorts of matters (Entia): That which is affirmable of a Subject, but is not in a Subject; That which is in a Subject, but is not affirmable of a Subject; That which is both in a Subject, and affirmable of a Subject; That which is neither in a Subject, nor affirmable of a Subject.10

This fundamental quadruple distinction of Entia, which serves as an introduction to the ten Categories or Predicaments, belongs to words altogether according to their relative places or functions in the proposition; the meanings of the words being classified accordingly. That the learner may understand it, he ought properly to be master of the first part of the treatise De Interpretatione, wherein the constituent elements of a proposition are explained: so intimate is the connection between that treatise and this.

The classification applies to Entia (Things or Matters) universally, and is thus a first step in Ontology. He here looks at Ontology in one of its several diverse aspects — as it enters into predication, and furnishes the material for Subjects and Predicates, the constituent members of a proposition.

Ontology, or the Science of Ens quatenus Ens, occupies an important place in Aristotle’s scientific programme; bearing usually the title of First Philosophy, sometimes Theology, though never (in his works) the more modern title of Metaphysica. He describes it as the universal and comprehensive Science, to which all other sciences are related as parts or fractions. Ontology deals with Ens in its widest sense, as an Unum not generic but analogical — distinguishing the derivative varieties into which it may be distributed, and setting out the attributes and accompaniments of Essentia universally; while other sciences, such as Geometry, Astronomy, &c., confine themselves to distinct branches of that whole;11 each having its own separate class of Entia for special and exclusive study. This is the characteristic distinction of Ontology, as Aristotle conceives it; he does not set it in antithesis to Phenomenology, according to the distinction that has become current among modern metaphysicians.

Now Ens (or Entia), in the doctrine of Aristotle, is not a synonymous or univocal word, but an homonymous or equivocal word; or, rather, it is something between the two, being equivocal, with a certain qualification. Though not a Summum Genus, i.e. not manifesting throughout all its particulars generic unity, nor divisible into species by the addition of well-marked essential differentiæ, it is an analogical aggregate, or a Summum Analogon, comprehending under it many subordinates which bear the same name from being all related in some way or other to a common root or fundamentum, the relationship being both diverse in kind and nearer or more distant in degree. The word Ens is thus homonymous, yet in a qualified sense. While it is not univocal, it is at the same time not absolutely equivocal. It is multivocal (if we may coin such a word), having many meanings held together by a multifarious and graduated relationship to one common fundamentum.12 Ens (or Entia), in this widest sense, is the theme of Ontology or First Philosophy, and is looked at by Aristotle in four different principal aspects.13

1. Τὸ ὂν κατὰ συμβεβηκός — Ens per Accidens — Ens accidental, or rather concomitant, either as rare and exceptional attribute to a subject, or along with some other accident in the same common subject.

2. Τὸ ὂν ὡς ἀληθές, καὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν ὡς ψεῦδος — Ens, in the sense /of Truth, Non-Ens, in the sense of Falsehood. This is the Ens of the Proposition; a true affirmation or denial falls under Ens in this mode, when the mental conjunction of terms agrees with reality; a false affirmation or denial, where no such agreement exists, falls under Non-Ens.14

3. Τὸ ὂν δυνάμει καὶ τὸ ὂν ἐνεργείᾳ — Ens, potential, actual.

4. Τὸ ὂν κατὰ τὰ σχήματα τῶν κατηγοριῶν — Ens, according to the ten varieties of the Categories, to be presently explained.

These four are the principal aspects under which Aristotle looks at the aggregate comprised by the equivocal or multivocal word Entia. In all the four branches, the varieties comprised are not species under a common genus, correlating, either as co-ordinate or subordinate, one to the other; they are analoga, all having relationship with a common term, but having no other necessary relationship with each other. Aristotle does not mean that these four modes of distributing this vast aggregate, are the only modes possible; for he himself sometimes alludes to other modes of distributions.15 Nor would he maintain that the four distributions were completely distinguished from each other, so that the same subordinate fractions are not comprehended in any two; for on the contrary, the branches overlap each other and coincide to a great degree, especially the first and fourth. But he considers the four as discriminating certain distinct aspects of Entia or Entitas, more important than any other aspects thereof that could be pointed out, and as affording thus the best basis and commencement for the Science called Ontology.

Of these four heads, however, the first and second are rapidly dismissed by Aristotle in the Metaphysica,16 being conceived as having little reference to real essence, and therefore belonging more to Logic than to Ontology; i.e. to the subjective processes of naming, predicating, believing, and inferring rather than to the objective world of Perceivables and Cogitables.17 It is the third and fourth that are treated in the Metaphysica; while it is the fourth only (Ens according to the ten figures of the Categories) which is set forth and elucidated in this first treatise of the Organon, where Aristotle appears to blend Logic and Ontology into one.

Of this mixed character, partly logical, partly ontological, is the first distinction set forth in the Categoriæ — the distinction between matters predicated of a Subject, and matters which are in a Subject — the Subject itself being assumed as the fundamentum correlative to both of them. The definition given of that which is in a Subject is ontological: viz., “In a Subject, I call that which is in anything, not as a part, yet so that it cannot exist separately from that in which it is.”18 By these two negative characteristics, without any mark positive, does Aristotle define what is meant by being in a Subject. Modern logicians, and Hobbes among them, can find no better definition for an Accident; though Hobbes remarks truly, that Accident cannot be properly defined, but must be elucidated by examples.19

The distinction here drawn by Aristotle between being predicated of a Subject, and being in a Subject, coincides with that between essential and non-essential predication: all the predicates (including the differentia) which belong to the essence, fall under the first division;20 all those which do not belong to the essence, under the latter. The Subjects — what Aristotle calls the First Essences or Substances, those which are essences or substances in the fullest and strictest meaning of the word — are concrete individual things or persons; such as Sokrates, this man, that horse or tree. These are never employed as predicates at all (except by a distorted and unnatural structure of the proposition, which Aristotle indicates as possible, but declines to take into account); they are always Subjects of different predicates, and are, in the last analysis, the Subjects of all predicates. But besides these First Essences, there are also Second Essences — Species and Genus, which stand to the first Essence in the relation of predicates to a Subject, and to the other Categories in the relation of Subjects to predicates.21 These Second Essences are less of Essences than the First, which alone is an Essence in the fullest and most appropriate sense. Among the Second Essences, Species is more of an Essence than Genus, because it belongs more closely and specially to the First Essence; while Genus is farther removed from it. Aristotle thus recognizes a graduation of more or less in Essence; the individual is more Essence, or more complete as an Essence, than the Species, the Species more than the Genus. As he recognizes a First Essence, i.e. an individual object (such as Sokrates, this horse, &c.), so he also recognizes an individual accident (this particular white colour, that particular grammatical knowledge) which is in a Subject, but is not predicated of a Subject; this particular white colour exists in some given body, but is not predicable of any body.22

Respecting the logical distinction, which Aristotle places in the commencement of this treatise on the Categories — between predicates which are affirmed of a Subject, and predicates which are in a Subject23 — we may remark that it turns altogether upon the name by which you describe the predicate. Thus he tells us that the Species and Genus (man, animal), and the Differentia (rational), may be predicated of Sokrates, but are not in Sokrates; while knowledge is in Sokrates, but cannot be predicated of Sokrates; and may be predicated of grammar, but is not in grammar. But if we look at this comparison, we shall see that in the last-mentioned example, the predicate is described by an abstract word (knowledge); while in the preceding examples it is described by a concrete word (man, animal, rational).24 If, in place of these three last words, we substitute the abstract words corresponding to them — humanity, animality, rationality — we shall have to say that these are in Sokrates, though they cannot (in their abstract form) be predicated of Sokrates, but only in the form of their concrete paronyms, which Aristotle treats as a distinct predication. So if, instead of the abstract word knowledge, we employ the concrete word knowing or wise, we can no longer say that this is in Sokrates, and that it may be predicated of grammar. Abstract alone can be predicated of abstract; concrete alone can be predicated of concrete; if we describe the relation between Abstract and Concrete, we must say, The Abstract is in the Concrete — the Concrete contains or embodies the Abstract. Indeed we find Aristotle referring the same predicate, when described by the abstract name, to one Category; and when described by the concrete paronymous adjective, to another and different Category.25 The names Concrete and Abstract were not in the philosophical vocabulary of his day. In this passage of the Categoriæ, he establishes a distinction between predicates essential and predicates non-essential; the latter he here declares to be in the Subject, the former not to be in it, but to be co-efficients of its essence. But we shall find that he does not adhere to this distinction even throughout the present treatise, still less in other works. It seems to be a point of difference between the Categoriæ on one side, and the Physica and Metaphysica on the other, that in the Categoriæ he is more disposed to found supposed real distinctions on verbal etiquette, and on precise adherence to the syntactical structure of a proposition.26

Lastly, Aristotle here makes one important observation respecting those predicates which he describes as (not in a Subject but) affirmed or denied of a Subject — i.e. the essential predicates. In these (he says) whatever predicate can be truly affirmed or denied of the predicate, the same can be truly affirmed or denied of the Subject.27 This observation deserves notice, because it is in fact a brief but distinct announcement of his main theory of the Syllogism; which theory he afterwards expands in the Analytica Priora, and traces into its varieties and ramifications.

After such preliminaries, Aristotle proceeds28 to give the enumeration of his Ten Categories or Predicaments; under one or other of which, every subject or predicate, considered as capable of entering into a proposition, must belong: 1. Essence or Substance; such as, man, horse. 2. How much or Quantity; such as, two cubits long, three cubits long. 3. What manner of or Quality; such as, white, erudite. 4. Ad aliquid — To something or Relation; such as, double, half, greater. 5. Where; such as, in the market-place, in the Lykeium. 6. When; such as, yesterday, last year. 7. In what posture; such as, he stands up, he is sitting down. 8. To have; such as, to be shod, to be armed. 9. Activity; such as, he is cutting, he is turning. 10. Passivity; such as, he is being cut, he is being burned.

Ens in its complete state — concrete, individual, determinate — includes an embodiment of all these ten Categories; the First Ens being the Subject of which the rest are predicates. Whatever question be asked respecting any individual Subject, the information given in the answer must fall, according to Aristotle, under one or more of these ten general heads; while the full outfit of the individual will comprise some predicate under each of them. Moreover, each of the ten is a Generalissimum; having more or fewer species contained under it, but not being itself contained under any larger genus (Ens not being a genus). So that Aristotle does not attempt to define or describe any one of the ten; his only way of explaining is by citing two or three illustrative examples of each. Some of the ten are even of wider extent than Summa Genera; thus, Quality cannot be considered as a true genus, comprehending generically all the cases falling under it. It is a Summum Analogon, reaching beyond the comprehension of a genus; an analogous or multivocal name, applied to many cases vaguely and remotely akin to each other.29 And again the same particular predicate may be ranked both under Quality and under Relation; it need not belong exclusively to either one of them.30 Moreover, Good, like Ens or Unum, is common to all the Categories, but is differently represented in each.31

Aristotle comments at considerable length upon the four first of the ten Categories. 1. Essence or Substance. 2. Quantity. 3. Quality. 4. Relation. As to the six last, he says little upon any of them; upon some, nothing at all.

His decuple partition of Entia or Enunciata is founded entirely upon a logical principle. He looks at them in their relation to Propositions; and his ten classes discriminate the relation which they bear to each other as parts or constituent elements of a proposition. Aristotle takes his departure, not from any results of scientific research, but from common speech; and from the dialectic, frequent in his time, which debated about matters of common life and talk, about received and current opinions.32 We may presume him to have studied and compared a variety of current propositions, so as to discover what were the different relations in which Subjects and Predicates did stand or could stand to each other; also the various questions which might be put respecting any given subject, with the answers suitable to be returned.33

Aristotle ranks as his first and fundamental Category Substance or Essence — Οὐσία; the abstract substantive word corresponding to Τὸ ὄν; which last is the vast aggregate, not generically One but only analogically One, destined to be distributed among the ten Categories as Summa Genera. The First Ens or First Essence — that which is Ens in the fullest sense — is the individual concrete person or thing in nature; Sokrates, Bukephalus, this man, that horse, that oak-tree, &c. This First Ens is indispensable as Subject or Substratum for all the other Categories, and even for predication generally. It is a Subject only; it never appears as a predicate of anything else. As Hic Aliquis or Hoc Aliquid, it lies at the bottom (either expressed or implied) of all the work of predication. It is Ens or Essence most of all, par excellence; and is so absolutely indispensable, that if all First Entia were supposed to be removed, neither Second Entia nor any of the other Categories could exist.34

The Species is recognized by Aristotle as a Second Ens or Essence, in which these First Essences reside; it is less (has less completely the character) of Essence than the First, to which it serves as Predicate. The Genus is (strictly speaking) a Third Essence,35 in which both the First and the Second Essence are included; it is farther removed than the Species from the First Essence, and has therefore still less of the character of Essence. It stands as predicate both to the First and to the Second Essence. While the First Essence is more Essence than the Second, and the Second more than the Third, all the varieties of the First Essence are in this respect upon an equal footing with each other. This man, this horse, that tree, &c., are all Essence, equally and alike.36 The First Essence admits of much variety, but does not admit graduation, or degrees of more or less.

Nothing else except Genera and Species can be called Second Essences, or said to belong to the Category Essence; for they alone declare what the First Essence is. If you are asked respecting Sokrates, What he is? and if you answer by stating the Species or the Genus to which he belongs — that he is a man or an animal — your answer will be appropriate to the question; and it will be more fully understood if you state the Species than if you state the Genus. But if you answer by stating what belongs to any of the other Categories (viz., that he is white, that he is running), your answer will be inappropriate, and foreign to the question; it will not declare what Sokrates is.37 Accordingly, none of these other Categories can be called Essences. All of them rank as predicates both of First and of Second Essence; just as Second Essences rank as predicates of First Essences.38

Essence or Substance is not in a Subject; neither First nor Second Essence. The First Essence is neither in a Subject nor predicated of a Subject; the Second Essences are not in the First, but are predicated of the First. Both the Second Essence, and the definition of the word describing it, may be predicated of the First; that is, the predication is synonymous or univocal; whereas, of that which is in a Subject, the name may often be predicated, but never the definition of the name. What is true of the Second Essence, is true also of the Differentia; that it is not in a Subject, but that it may be predicated univocally of a Subject — not only its name, but also the definition of its name.39

All Essence or Substance seems to signify Hoc Aliquid Unum Numero. The First Essence really does so signify, but the Second Essence does not really so signify: it only seems to do so, because it is enunciated by a substantive name, like the First.40 It signifies really Tale Aliquid, answering to the enquiry Quale Quid? for it is said not merely of one thing numerically, but of many things each numerically one. Nevertheless, a distinction must be drawn. The Second Essence does not (like the Accident, such as white) signify Tale Aliquid simply and absolutely, or that and nothing more. It signifies Talem Aliquam Essentiam; it declares what the Essence is, or marks off the characteristic feature of various First Essences, each Unum Numero. The Genus marks off a greater number of such than the Species.41

Again, Essences have no contraries.42 But this is not peculiar to Essences, for Quanta also have no contraries; there is nothing contrary to ten, or to that which is two cubits long. Nor is any one of the varieties of First Essence more or less Essence than any other variety. An individual man is as much Essence as an individual horse, neither more nor less. Nor is he at one time more a man than he was at another time; though he may become more or less white, more or less handsome.43

But that which is most peculiar to Essence, is, that while remaining Unum et Idem Numero, it is capable by change in itself of receiving alternately contrary Accidents. This is true of no other Category. For example, this particular colour, being one and the same in number, will never be now black, and then white; this particular action, being one and the same in number, will not be at one time virtuous, at another time vicious. The like is true respecting all the other Categories. But one and the same man will be now white, hot, virtuous; at another time, he will be black, cold, vicious. An objector may say that this is true, not merely of Essence, but also of Discourse and of Opinion; each of which (he will urge) remains Unum Numero, but is nevertheless recipient of contrary attributes; for the proposition or assertion, Sokrates is sitting, may now be true and may presently become false. But this case is different, because there is no change in the proposition itself, but in the person or thing to which the proposition refers; while one and the same man, by new affections in himself, is now healthy, then sick; now hot, then cold.44

Here Aristotle concludes his first Category or Predicament — Essence or Substance. He proceeds to the other nine, and ranks Quantity first among them.45 Quantum is either Continual or Discrete; it consists either of parts having position in reference to each other, or of parts not having position in reference to each other. Discrete Quanta are Number and Speech; Continual Quanta are Line, Surface, Body, and besides these, Time and Place. The parts of Number have no position in reference to each other; the parts of Line, Surface, Body, have position in reference to each other. These are called Quanta, primarily; other things are called Quanta in a secondary way, κατὰ συμβεβηκός.46 Thus we say much white, when the surface of white is large; we say, the action is long, because much time and movement have been consumed in it. If we are asked, how long the action is? we must answer by specifying its length in time — a year or a month.

To Quantum (as to Essence or Substance) there exists no contrary.47 There is nothing contrary to a length of three cubits or an area of four square feet. Great, little, long, short, are more properly terms of Relation than terms of Quantity; thus belonging to another Category. Nor is Quantum ever more or less Quantum; it does not admit of degree. The Quantum a yard is neither more nor less Quantum than that called a foot. That which is peculiar to Quanta is to be equal or unequal:48 the relations of equality and inequality are not properly affirmed of anything else except of Quanta.

From the Category of Quantity, Aristotle proceeds next to that of Relation;49 which he discusses in immediate sequence after Quantity, and before Quality, probably because in the course of his exposition about Quantity, he had been obliged to intimate how closely Quantity was implicated with Relation, and how essential it was that the distinction between the two should be made clear.

Relata (τὰ πρός τι — ad Aliquid) are things such, that what they are, they are said to be of other things, or are said to in some other manner towards something else (ὅσα αὐτὰ ἅπερ ἐστὶν ἑτέρων εἶναι λέγεται, ἢ ὁπωστοῦν ἄλλως πρὸς ἕτερον). Thus, that which is greater, is said to be greater than another; that which is called double is called also double of another. Habit, disposition, perception, cognition, position, &c., are all Relata. Habit, is habit of something; perception and cognition, are always of something; position, is position of something. The Category of Relation admits contrariety in some cases, but not always; it also admits, in some cases, graduation, or the more or less in degree; things are more like or less like to each other.50 All Relata are so designated in virtue of their relation to other Correlata; the master is master of a servant — the servant is servant of a master. Sometimes the Correlatum is mentioned not in the genitive case but in some other case; thus cognition is cognition of the cognitum, but cognitum is cognitum by cognition; perception is perception of the perceptum, but the perceptum is perceptum by perception.51 The correlation indeed will not manifestly appear, unless the Correlate be designated by its appropriate term: thus, if the wing be declared to be wing of a bird, there is no apparent correlation; we ought to say, the wing is wing of the winged, and the winged is winged through or by the wing; for the wing belongs to the bird, not quâ bird, but quâ winged,52 since there are many things winged, which are not birds. Sometimes there is no current term appropriate to the Correlate, so that we are under the necessity of coining one for the occasion: we must say, to speak with strict accuracy, ἡ κεφαλή, τοῦ κεφαλωτοῦ κεφαλή not ἡ κεφαλή, τοῦ ζῷου κεφαλή; τὸ πηδάλιον, τοῦ πηδαλιωτοῦ πηδάλιον, not τὸ πηδάλιον, πλοίου πηδάλιον.53

The Relatum and its Correlate seem to be simul naturâ. If you suppress either one of the pair, the other vanishes along with it. Aristotle appears to think, however, that there are many cases in which this is not true. He says that there can be no cognoscens without a cognoscibile, nor any percipiens without a percipibile; but that there may be cognoscibile without any cognoscens, and percipibile without any percipiens. He says that τὸ αἰσθητὸν exists πρὸ τοῦ αἴσθησιν εἶναι.54 Whether any Essence or Substance can be a Relatum or not, he is puzzled to say; he seems to think that the Second Essence may be, but that the First Essence cannot be so. He concludes, however, by admitting that the question is one of doubt and difficulty.55

Quality is that according to which Subjects are called Such and Such (ποιοί τινες). It is, however, not a true genus, but a vague word, of many distinct, though analogous, meanings including an assemblage of particulars not bound together by any generic tie.56 The more familiar varieties are — 1. Habits or endowments (ἕξεις) of a durable character, such as, wise, just, virtuous; 2. Conditions more or less transitory, such as, hot, cold, sick, healthy, &c. (διαθέσεις); 3. Natural powers or incapacities, such as hard, soft, fit for boxing, fit for running, &c. 4. Capacities of causing sensation, such as sweet of honey, hot and cold of fire and ice. But a person who occasionally blushes with shame, or occasionally becomes pale with fear, does not receive the designation of such or such from this fact; the occasional emotion is a passion, not a quality.57

A fifth variety of Quality is figure or circumscribing form, straightness or crookedness. But dense, rare, rough, smooth, are not properly varieties of Quality; objects are not denominated such and such from these circumstances. They rather declare position of the particles of an object in reference to each other, near or distant, evenly or unevenly arranged.58

Quality admits, in some cases but not in all, both contrariety and graduation. Just is contrary to unjust, black to white; but there is no contrary to red or pale. If one of two contraries belongs to Quality, the other of the two will also belong to Quality. In regard to graduation, we can hardly say that Quality in the abstract is capable of more and less; but it is indisputable that different objects have more or less of the same quality. One man is more just, healthy, wise, than another; though justice or health in itself cannot be called more or less. One thing cannot be more a triangle, square, or circle than another; the square is not more a circle than the oblong.59

What has just been said is not peculiar to Quality; but one peculiarity there is requiring to be mentioned. Quality is the foundation of Similarity and Dissimilarity. Objects are called like or unlike in reference to qualities.60

In speaking about Quality, Aristotle has cited many illustrations from Relata. Habits and dispositions, described by their generic names, are Relata; in their specific varieties they are Qualities. Thus cognition is always cognition of something, and is therefore a Relatum; but grammatiké (grammatical cognition) is not grammatiké of any thing, and is therefore a Quality. It has been already intimated61 that the same variety may well belong to two distinct Categories.

After having thus dwelt at some length on each of the first four Categories, Aristotle passes lightly over the remaining six. Respecting Agere and Pati, he observes that they admit (like Quality) both of graduation and contrariety. Respecting Jacēre he tells us that the predicates included in it are derived from the fact of positions, which positions he had before ranked among the Relata. Respecting Ubi, Quando, and Habere, he considers them all so manifest and intelligible, that he will say nothing about them; he repeats the illustrations before given — Habere, as, to be shod, or to be armed (to have shoes or arms); Ubi, as, in the Lykeium; Quando, as, yesterday, last year.62

 

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No part of the Aristotelian doctrine has become more incorporated with logical tradition, or elicited a greater amount of comment and discussion,63 than these Ten Categories or Predicaments. I have endeavoured to give the exposition as near as may be in the words and with the illustrations of Aristotle; because in many of the comments new points of view are introduced, sometimes more just than those of Aristotle, but not present to his mind. Modern logicians join the Categories side by side with the five Predicables, which are explained in the Eisagoge of Porphyry, more than five centuries after Aristotle’s death. As expositors of Logic they are right in doing this; but my purpose is to illustrate rather the views of Aristotle. The mind of Aristotle was not altogether exempt from that fascination64 which particular numbers exercised upon the Pythagoreans and after them upon Plato. To the number Ten the Pythagoreans ascribed peculiar virtue and perfection. The fundamental Contraries, which they laid down as the Principles of the Universe, were ten in number.65 After them, also, Plato carried his ideal numbers as far as the Dekad, but no farther. That Aristotle considered Ten to be the suitable number for a complete list of general heads — that he was satisfied with making up the list of ten, and looked for nothing beyond — may be inferred from the different manner in which he deals with the different items. At least, such was his point of view when he composed this treatise. Though he recognizes all the ten Categories as co-ordinate in so far that (except Quale) each is a distinct Genus, not reducible under either of the others, yet he devotes all his attention to the first four, and gives explanations (copious for him) in regard to these. About the fifth and sixth (Agere and Pati)66 he says a little, though much less than we should expect, considering their extent and importance. About the last four, next to nothing appears. There are even passages in his writings where he seems to drop all mention of the two last (Jacere and Habere), and to recognize no more than eight Predicaments. In the treatise Categoriæ where his attention is fastened on Terms and their signification, and on the appropriate way of combining these terms into propositions, he recites the ten seriatim; but in other treatises, where his remarks bear more upon the matter and less upon the terms by which it is signified, he thinks himself warranted in leaving out the two or three whose applications are most confined to special subjects. If he had thought fit to carry the total number of Predicaments to twelve or fifteen instead of ten,67 he would probably have had little difficulty in finding some other general heads not less entitled to admission than Jacere and Habere; the rather, as he himself allows, even in regard to the principal Categories, that particulars comprised under one of them may also be comprised under another, and that there is no necessity for supposing each particular to be restricted to one Category exclusively.

These remarks serve partly to meet the difficulties pointed out by commentators in regard to the Ten Categories. From the century immediately succeeding Aristotle, down to recent times, the question has always been asked, why did Aristotle fix upon Ten Categories rather than any other number? and why upon these Ten rather than others? And ancient commentators68 as well as modern have insisted, that the classification is at once defective and redundant; leaving out altogether some particulars, while it enumerates others twice over or more than twice. (This last charge is, however, admitted by Aristotle himself, who considers it no ground of objection that the same particular may sometimes be ranked under two distinct heads.) The replies made to the questions, and the attempts to shew cause for the selection of these Ten classes, have not been satisfactory; though it is certain that Aristotle himself treats the classification as if it were real and exhaustive,69 obtained by comparing many propositions and drawing from them an induction. He tries to determine, in regard to some particular enquiries, under which of the Ten Summa Genera the subject of the enquiry is to be ranged; he indicates some predicate of extreme generality (Unum, Bonum, &c.), which extend over all or several Categories, as equivocal or analogous, representing no true Genera. But though Aristotle takes this view of the completeness of his own classification, he never assigns the grounds of it, and we are left to make them out in the best way we can.

We cannot safely presume, I think, that he followed out any deductive principle or system; if he had done so, he would probably have indicated it. The decuple indication of general heads arose rather from comparison of propositions and induction therefrom. Under each of these ten heads, some predicate or other may always be applied to every concrete individual object, such as a man or animal. Aristotle proceeded by comparing a variety of propositions, such as were employed in common discourse or dialectic, and throwing the different predicates into genera, according as they stood in different logical relation to the Subject. The analysis applied is not metaphysical but logical; it does not resolve the real individual into metaphysical ἀρχαὶ or Principles, such as Form and Matter; it accepts the individual as he stands, with his full complex array of predicates embodied in a proposition, and analyses that proposition into its logical constituents.70 The predicates derive their existence from being attached to the First Subject, and have a different manner of existence according as they are differently related to the First Subject.71 What is this individual, Sokrates? He is an animal. What is his Species? Man. What is the Differentia, limiting the Genus and constituting the Species? Rationality, two-footedness. What is his height and bulk? He is six feet high, and is of twelve stone weight. What manner of man is he? He is flat-nosed, virtuous, patient, brave. In what relation does he stand to others? He is a father, a proprietor, a citizen, a general. What is he doing? He is digging his garden, ploughing his field. What is being done to him? He is being rubbed with oil, he is having his hair cut. Where is he? In the city, at home, in bed. When do you speak of him? As he is, at this moment, as he was, yesterday, last year. In what posture is he? He is lying down, sitting, standing up, kneeling, balancing on one leg. What is he wearing? He has a tunic, armour, shoes, gloves.

Confining ourselves (as I have already observed that Aristotle does in the Categories) to those perceptible or physical subjects which every one admits,72 and keeping clear of metaphysical entities, we shall see that respecting any one of these subjects the nine questions here put may all be put and answered; that the two last are most likely to be put in regard to some living being; and that the last can seldom be put in regard to any other subject except a person (including man, woman, or child). Every individual person falls necessarily under each of the ten Categories; belongs to the Genus animal, Species man; he is of a certain height and bulk; has certain qualities; stands in certain relations to other persons or things; is doing something and suffering something; is in a certain place; must be described with reference to a certain moment of time; is in a certain attitude or posture; is clothed or equipped in a certain manner. Information of some kind may always be given respecting him under each of these heads; he is always by necessity quantus, but not always of any particular quantity. Until such information is given, the concrete individual is not known under conditions thoroughly determined.73 Moreover each head is separate and independent, not resolvable into any of the rest, with a reservation, presently to be noticed, of Relation in its most comprehensive meaning. When I say of a man, that he is at home, lying down, clothed with a tunic, &c., I do not predicate of him any quality, action, or passion. The information which I give belongs to three other heads distinct from these last, and distinct also from each other. If you suppress the two last of the ten Categories and leave only the preceding eight, under which of these eight are you to rank the predicates, Sokrates is lying down, Sokrates is clothed with a tunic, &c.? The necessity for admitting the ninth and tenth Categories (Jacere and Habere) as separate general heads in the list, is as great as the necessity for admitting most of the Categories which precede. The ninth and tenth are of narrower comprehension,74 and include a smaller number of distinguishable varieties, than the preceding; but they are not the less separate heads of information. So, among the chemical elements enumerated by modern science, some are very rarely found; yet they are not for that reason the less entitled to a place in the list.

If we seek not to appreciate the value of the Ten Categories as a philosophical classification, but to understand what was in the mind of Aristotle when he framed it, we shall attend, not so much to the greater features, which it presents in common with every other scheme of classification, as to the minor features which constitute its peculiarity. In this point of view the two last Categories are more significant than the first four, and the tenth is the most significant of all; for every one is astonished when he finds Habere enrolled as a tenth Summum Genus, co-ordinate with Quantum and Quale. Now what is remarkable about the ninth and tenth Categories is, that individual persons or animals are the only Subjects respecting whom they are ever predicated, and are at the same time Subjects respecting whom they are constantly (or at least frequently) predicated. An individual person is habitually clothed in some particular way in all or part of his body; he (and perhaps his horse also) are the only Subjects that are ever so clothed. Moreover animals are the only Subjects, and among them man is the principal Subject, whose changes of posture are frequent, various, determined by internal impulses, and at the same time interesting to others to know. Hence we may infer that when Aristotle lays down the Ten Categories, as Summa Genera for all predications which can be made about any given Subject, the Subject which he has wholly, or at least principally, in his mind is an individual Man. We understand, then, how it is that he declares Habere and Jacere to be so plain as to need no farther explanation. What is a man’s posture? What is his clothing or equipment? are questions understood by every one.75 But when Aristotle treats of Habere elsewhere, he is far from recognizing it as narrow and plain per se. Even in the Post-Predicamenta (an appendix tacked on to the Categoriæ, either by himself afterwards, or by some follower) he declares Habere to be a predicate of vague and equivocal signification; including portions of Quale, Quantum, and Relata. And he specifies the personal equipment of an individual as only one among these many varieties of signification. He takes the same view in the fourth book (Δ.) of the Metaphysica, which book is a sort of lexicon of philosophical terms.76 This enlargement of the meaning of the word Habere seems to indicate an alteration of Aristotle’s point of view, dropping that special reference to an individual man as Subject, which was present to him when he drew up the list of Ten Categories. The like alteration carried him still farther, so as to omit the ninth and tenth almost entirely, when he discusses the more extensive topics of philosophy. Some of his followers, on the contrary, instead of omitting Habere out of the list of Categories, tried to procure recognition for it in the larger sense which it bears in the Metaphysica. Archytas ranked it fifth in the series, immediately after Relata.77

The narrow manner in which Aristotle conceives the Predicament Habere in the treatise Categoriæ, and the enlarged sense given to that term both in the Post-Predicaments and in the Metaphysica, lead to a suspicion that the Categoriæ is comparatively early, in point of date, among his compositions. It seems more likely that he should begin with the narrower view, and pass from thence to the larger, rather than vice versâ. Probably the predicates specially applicable to Man would be among his early conceptions, but would by later thought be tacitly dropped,78 so as to retain those only which had a wider philosophical application.

I have already remarked that Aristotle, while enrolling all the Ten Predicaments as independent heads, each the Generalissimum of a separate descending line of predicates, admitted at the same time that various predicates did not of necessity belong to one of these lines exclusively, but might take rank in more than one line. There are some which he enumerates under all the different heads of Quality, Relation, Action, Passion. The classification is evidently recognized as one to which we may apply a remark which he makes especially in regard to Quality and Relation, under both of which heads (he says) the same predicates may sometimes be counted.79 And the observation is much more extensively true than he was aware; for he both conceives and defines the Category of Relation or Relativity (Ad Aliquid) in a way much narrower than really belongs to it. If he had assigned to this Category its full and true comprehension, he would have found it implicated with all the other nine. None of them can be isolated from it in predication.

That Agere and Pati (with the illustrations which he himself gives thereof — urit, uritur) may be ranked as varieties under the generic Category of Relation or Relativity, can hardly be overlooked. The like is seen to be true about Ubi and Quando, when we advert to any one of the predicates belonging to either; such as, in the market-place, yesterday.80 Moreover, not merely the last six of the ten Categories, but also the second and fourth (Quantum and Quale) are implicated with and subordinated to Relation. If we look at Quantum, we shall find that the example which Aristotle gives of it is τριπῆχυς, tricubital, or three cubits long; a term quite as clearly relative as the term διπλάσιος or double, which he afterwards produces as instance of the Category Ad Aliquid.81 When we are asked the questions, How much is the height? How large is the field? we cannot give the information required except by a relative predicate — it is three feet — it is four acres; we thereby carry back the mind of the questioner to some unit of length or superficies already known to him, and we convey our meaning by comparison with such unit. Again, if we turn from Quantum to Quale, we find the like Relativity implied in all the predicates whereby answer is made to the question Ποιὸς τίς ἐστι; Qualis est? What manner of man is he? He is such as A, B, C — persons whom we have previously seen, or heard, or read of.82

We thus see that all the predicates, not only under the Category which Aristotle terms Ad Aliquid, but also under all the last nine Categories, are relative. Indeed the work of predication is always relative. The express purpose, as well as the practical usefulness, of a significant predicate is, to carry the mind of the hearer either to a comparison or to a general notion which is the result of past comparisons. But though each predicate connotes Relation, each connotes a certain fundamentum besides, which gives to the Relation its peculiar character. Relations of Quantity are not the same as relations of Quality; the predicates of the former connote a fundamentum different from the predicates of the latter, though in both the meaning conveyed is relative. In fact, every predicate or concrete general name is relative, or connotes a Relation to something else, actual or potential, beyond the thing named. The only name not relative is the Proper name, which connotes no attributes, and cannot properly be used as a predicate (so Aristotle remarks), but only as a Subject.83 Sokrates, Kallias, Bukephalus &c., denotes the Hoc Aliquid or Unum Numero, which, when pronounced alone, indicates some concrete aggregate (as yet unknown) which may manifest itself to my senses, but does not, so far as the name is concerned, involve necessary reference to anything besides; though even these names, when one and the same name continues to be applied to the same object, may be held to connote a real or supposed continuity of past or future existence, and become thus to a certain extent relative.

We must observe that what the proper name denotes is any certain concrete One and individual,84 with his attributes essential and non-essential, whatever they may be, though as yet undeclared, and with his capacity of receiving other attributes different and even opposite. This is what Aristotle indicates as the most special characteristic of Substance or Essence, that while it is Unum et Idem Numero, it is capable of receiving contraries. This potentiality of contraries, described as characterizing the Unum et Idem Numero,85 is relative to something about to come; the First Essence is doubtless logically First, but it is just as much relative to the Second, as the Second to the First. We know it only by two negations and one affirmation, all of which are relative to predications in futuro. It is neither in a Subject, nor predicable of a Subject. It is itself the ultimate Subject of all predications and all inherencies. Plainly, therefore, we know it only relatively to these predications and inherencies. Aristotle says truly, that if you take away the First Essences, everything else, Second Essences as well as Accidents, disappears along with them. But he might have added with equal truth, that if you take away all Second Essences and all Accidents, the First Essences will disappear equally. The correlation and interdependence is reciprocal.86 It may be suitable, with a view to clear and retainable philosophical explanation, to state the Subject first and the predicates afterwards; so that the Subject may thus be considered as logically prius. But in truth the Subject is only a substratum for predicates,87 as much as the predicates are superstrata upon the Subject. The term substratum designates not an absolute or a per se, but a Correlatum to certain superstrata, determined or undetermined: now the Correlatum is one of the pair implicated directly or indirectly in all Relation; and it is in fact specified by Aristotle as one variety of the Category Ad Aliquid.88 We see therefore that the idea of Relativity attaches to the first of the ten Categories, as well as to the nine others. The inference from these observations is, that Relation or Relativity, understood in the large sense which really belongs to it, ought to be considered rather as an Universal, comprehending and pervading all the Categories, than as a separate Category in itself, co-ordinate with the other nine. It is the condition and characteristic of the work of predication generally; the last analysis of which is into Subject and Predicate, in reciprocal implication with each other. I remark that this was the view taken of it by some well-known Peripatetic commentators of antiquity;89 by Andronikus, for example, and by Ammonius after him. Plato, though he makes no attempt to draw up a list of Categories, has an incidental passage respecting Relativity;90 conceiving it in a very extended sense, apparently as belonging more or less to all predicates. Aristotle, though in the Categoriæ he gives a narrower explanation of it, founded upon grammatical rather than real considerations, yet intimates in other places that predicates ranked under the heads of Quale, Actio, Passio, Jacere, &c., may also be looked at as belonging to the head of Ad Aliquid.91 This latter, moreover, he himself declares elsewhere to be Ens in the lowest degree, farther removed from the Prima Essentia than any of the other Categories; to be more in the nature of an appendage to some of them, especially to Quantum and Quale;92 and to presuppose, not only the Prima Essentia (which all the nine later Categories presuppose), but also one or more of the others, indicating the particular mode of comparison or Relativity in each case affirmed. Thus, under one aspect, Relation or Relativity may be said to stand prius naturâ, and to come first in order before all the Categories, inasmuch as it is implicated with the whole business of predication (which those Categories are intended to resolve into its elements), and belongs not less to the mode of conceiving what we call the Subject, than to the mode of conceiving what we call its Predicates, each and all. Under another aspect, Relativity may be said to stand last in order among the Categories — even to come after the adverbial Categories Ubi et Quando; because its locus standi is dim and doubtful, and because every one of the subordinate predicates belonging to it may be seen to belong to one or other of the remaining Categories also. Aristotle remarks that the Category Ad Aliquid has no peculiar and definite mode of generation corresponding to it, in the manner that Increase and Diminution belong to Quantum, Change to Quale, Generation, simple and absolute, to Essence or Substance.93 New relations may become predicable of a thing, without any change in the thing itself, but simply by changes in other things.94

Those among the Aristotelian commentators who denied the title of Ad Aliquid to a place among the Categories or Summa Genera of predicates, might support their views from passages where Aristotle ranks the Genus as a Relatum, though he at the same time declares that the Species under it are not Relata. Thus scientia is declared by him to be a Relatum; because it must be of something—alicujus scibilis; while the something thus implied is not specified.95 But (scientia) musica, grammatica, medica, &c., are declared not to be Relata; the indeterminate something being there determined, and bound up in one word with the predication of Relativity. Now the truth is that both are alike Relata, though both also belong to the Category of Quality; a man is called Talis from being sciens, as well as from being grammaticus. Again, he gives as illustrative examples of the Category Ad Aliquid, the adjectives double, triple. But he ranks in a different Category (that of Quantum) the adjectives bicubital, tricubital (διπῆχυς, τριπῆχυς). It is plain that the two last of these predicates are species under the two first, and that all four predicates are alike relative, under any real definition that can be given of Relativity, though all four belong also to the Category of Quantum. Yet Aristotle does not recognize any predicates as belonging to Ad Aliquid, except such as are logically and grammatically elliptical; that is, such as do not include in themselves the specification of the Correlate, but require to be supplemented by an additional word in the genitive or dative case, specifying the latter. As we have already seen, he lays it down generally, that all Relata (or Ad Aliquid) imply a Correlatum; and he prescribes that when the Correlatum is indicated, care shall be taken to designate it by a precise and specific term, not of wider import than the Relatum,96 but specially reciprocating therewith: thus he regards ala (a wing) as Ad Aliquid, but when you specify its correlate in order to speak with propriety (οἰκείως), you must describe it as ala alati (not as ala avis), in order that the Correlatum may be strictly co-extensive and reciprocating with the Relatum. Wing, head, hand, &c., are thus Ad Aliquid, though there may be no received word in the language to express their exact Correlata; and though you may find it necessary to coin a new word expressly for the purpose.97 In specifying the Correlatum of servant, you must say, servant of a master, not servant of a man or of a biped; both of which are in this case accompaniments or accidents of the master, being still accidents, though they may be in fact constantly conjoined. Unless you say master, the terms will not reciprocate; take away master, the servant is no longer to be found, though the man who was called servant is still there; but take away man or biped, and the servant may still continue.98 You cannot know the Relatum determinately or accurately, unless you know the Correlatum also; without the knowledge of the latter, you can only know the former in a vague and indefinite manner.99 Aristotle raises, also, the question whether any Essence or Substance can be described as Ad Aliquid.100 He inclines to the negative, though not decisively pronouncing. He seems to think that Simo and Davus, when called men, are Essences or Substances; but that when called master and slave, they are not so; this, however, is surprising, when he had just before spoken of the connotation of man as accidents (συμβεβηκότα) belonging to the connotation of master. He speaks of the members of an organized body (wing, head, foot) as examples of Ad Aliquid; while in other treatises, he determines very clearly that these members presuppose, as a prius naturâ, the complete organism whereof they are parts, and that the name of each member connotes the performance of, or aptitude to perform, a certain special function: now, such aptitude cannot exist unless the whole organism be held together in co-operative agency, so that if this last condition be wanting, the names, head, eye, foot, can no longer be applied to the separate members, or at least can only be applied equivocally or metaphorically.101 It would seem therefore that the functioning something is here the Essence, and that all its material properties are accidents (συμβεβηκότα).

In the fourth book of the Metaphysica, Aristotle gives an explanation of Ad Aliquid different from, and superior to, that which we read in the Categoriæ; treating it, not as one among many distinct Categories, but as implicated with all the Categories, and taking a different character according as it is blended with one or the other — Essentia, Quantum, Quale, Actio, Passio, &c.102 He there, also, enumerates as one of the varieties of Relata, what seems to go beyond the limit, or at least beyond the direct denotation, of the Categories; for, having specified, as one variety, Relata Numero, and, as another, Relata secundum actionem et passionem (τὸ θερμαντικὸν πρὸς τὸ θερμαντόν, &c.), he proceeds to a third variety, such as the mensurabile with reference to mensura, the scibile with reference to scientia, the cogitabile with reference to cogitatio; and in regard to this third variety, he draws a nice distinction. He says that mensura and cogitatio are Ad Aliquid, not because they are themselves related to mensurabile and cogitabile, but because mensurabile and cogitabile are related to them.103 You cannot say (he thinks) that mensura is referable to the mensurabile, or cogitatio to the cogitabile, because that would be repeating the same word twice over — mensura est illius cujus est mensura — cogitatio est illius cujus est cogitatio. So that he regards mensura and cogitatio as Correlata, rather than as Relata; while mensurabile and cogitabile are the Relata to them. But in point of fact, the distinction is not important; of the relative pair there may be one which is more properly called the Correlatum; yet both are alike relative.

If we compare together the various passages in which Aristotle cites and applies the Ten Categories (not merely in the treatise before us, but also in the Metaphysica, Physica, and elsewhere), we shall see that he cannot keep them apart steadily and constantly; that the same predicate is referred to one head in one place, and to another head in another: what is here spoken of as belonging to Actio or Passio, will be treated in another place as an instance of Quale or Ad Aliquid; even the derivative noun ἕξις (habitus) does not belong to the Category ἔχειν (Habere), but sometimes to Quale, sometimes to Ad Aliquid.104 This is inevitable; for the predicates thus differently referred have really several different aspects, and may be classified in one way or another, according as you take them in this or that aspect. Moreover, this same difficulty of finding impassable lines of demarcation would still be felt, even if the Categories, instead of the full list of Ten, were reduced to the smaller list of the four principal Categories — Substance, Quantity, Quality, and Relation; a reduction which has been recommended by commentators on Aristotle as well as by acute logicians of modern times. Even these four cannot be kept clearly apart: the predicates which declare Quantity or Quality must at the same time declare or imply Relation; while the predicates which declare Relation must also imply the fundamentum either of Quantity or of Quality.105

The most capital distinction, however, which is to be found among the Categories is that of Essence or Substance from all the rest. This is sometimes announced as having a standing per se; as not only logically distinguishable, but really separable from the other nine, if we preserve the Aristotelian list of ten,106 or from the other three, if we prefer the reduced list of four. But such real separation cannot be maintained. The Prima Essentia (we are told) is indispensable as a Subject, but cannot appear as Predicate; while all the rest can and do so appear. Now we see that this definition is founded upon the function enacted by each of them in predication, and therefore presupposes the fact of predication, which is in itself a Relation. The Category of Relation is thus implied, in declaring what the First Essence is, together with some predicabilia as correlates, though it is not yet specified what the predicabilia are. But besides this, the distinction drawn by Aristotle, between First and Second Essence or Substance, abolishes the marked line of separation between Substance and Quality, making the former shade down into the latter. The distinction recognizes a more or less in Substance, which graduation Aristotle expressly points out, stating that the Species is more Substance or Essence, and that Genus less so. We see thus that he did not conceive Substance (apart from attributes) according to the modern view, as that which exists without the mind (excluding within the mind or relation to the mind); for in that there can be no graduation. That which is without the mind, must also be within; and that which is within must also be without; the subject and the object correlating. This implication of within and without understood, there is then room for graduation, according as the one or the other aspect may be more or less prominent. Aristotle, in point of fact, confines himself to the mental or logical work of predication, to the conditions thereof, and to the component terms whereby the mind accomplishes that act. When he speaks of the First Essence or Substance, without the Second, all that he can say about it positively is to call it Unum numero and indivisible:107 even thus, he is compelled to introduce unity, measure, and number, all of which belong to the two Categories of Quantity and Relation; and yet still the First Essence or Substance remains indeterminate. We only begin to determine it when we call it by the name of the Second Substance or Essence; which name connotes certain attributes, the attributes thus connoted being of the essence of the Species; that is, unless they be present, no individual would be considered as belonging to the Species, or would be called by the specific name.108 When we thus, however, introduce attributes, we find ourselves not merely in the Category of Substantia (Secunda), but also in that of Qualitas. The boundary between Substantia and Qualitas disappears; the latter being partially contained in the former. The Second Substance or Essence includes attributes or Qualities belonging to the Essence. In fact, the Second Substance or Essence, when distinguished from the First, is both here and elsewhere characterized by Aristotle, as being not Substance at all, but Quality,109 though when considered as being in implication with the First, it takes on the nature of Substance and becomes substantial or essential Quality. The Differentia belongs thus both to Substance and to Quality (quale quid), making up as complement that which is designated by the specific name.110

We see, accordingly, that neither is the line of demarcation between the Category of Substance or Essence and the other Categories so impassable, nor the separability of it from the others so marked as some thinkers contend. Substance is represented by Aristotle as admitting of more and less, and as graduating by successive steps down to the other Categories; moreover, neither in its complete manifestation (as First Substance), nor in its incomplete manifestation (as Second Substance), can it be explained or understood without calling in the other Categories of Quantity, Quality, and Relation. It does not correspond to the definition of Substantia given by Spinoza — “quod in se est et per se concipitur.” It can no more be conceived or described without some of the other Categories, than they can be conceived or described without it. Aristotle defines it by four characteristics, two negative, and two positive. It cannot be predicated of a Subject: it cannot inhere in a Subject: it is, at bottom, the Subject of all Predicates: it is Unum numero and indivisible.111 Not one of these four determinations can be conceived or understood, unless we have in our minds the idea of other Categories and its relation to them. Substance is known only as the Subject of predicates, that is, relatively to them; as they also are known relatively to it. Without the Category of Relation, we can no more understand what is meant by a Subject than what is meant by a Predicate. The Category of Substance, as laid out by Aristotle, neither exists by itself, nor can be conceived by itself, without that of Relation and the generic notion of Predicate.112 All three lie together at the bottom of the analytical process, as the last findings and residuum.

Aristotle, taking his departure from an analysis of the complete sentence or of the act of predication, appears to have regarded the Subject as having a natural priority over the Predicate. The noun-substantive (which to him represents the Subject), even when pronounced alone, carries to the hearer a more complete conception than either the adjective or the verb when pronounced alone; these make themselves felt much more as elliptical and needing complementary adjuncts. But this is only true in so far as the conception, raised by the substantive named alone (ἄνευ συμπλοκῆς), includes by anticipation what would be included, if we added to it some or all of its predicates. If we could deduct from this conception the meaning of all the applicable predicates, it would seem essentially barren or incomplete, awaiting something to come; a mere point of commencement or departure,113 known only by the various lines which may be drawn from it; a substratum for various attributes to lie upon or to inhere in. That which is known only as a substratum, is known only relatively to a superstructure to come; the one is Relatum, the other Correlatum, and the mention of either involves an implied assumption of the other. There may be a logical priority, founded upon expository convenience, belonging to the substratum, because it remains numerically one and the same, while the superstructure is variable. But the priority is nothing more than logical and notional; it does not amount to an ability of prior independent existence. On the contrary, there is simultaneity by nature (according to Aristotle’s own definition of the phrase) between Subject, Relation, and Predicate; since they all imply each other as reciprocating correlates, while no one of them is the cause of the others.114

When Aristotle says, very truly, that if the First Substances were non-existent, none of the other Predicaments could exist, we must understand what he means by the term first. That term bears, in this treatise, a sense different from what it bears elsewhere: here it means the extreme concrete and individual; elsewhere it means the extreme abstract and universal. The First Substance or First Essence, in the Categories, is a Hoc Aliquid (τόδε τι), illustrated by the examples hic homo, hic equus. Now, as thus explained and illustrated, it includes not merely the Second Substance, but various accidental attributes besides. When we talk of This man, Sokrates, Kallias, &c., the hearer conceives not only the attributes for which he is called a man, but also various accidental attributes, ranking under one or more of the other Predicaments. The First Substance thus (as explained by Aristotle) is not conceived as a mere substratum without Second Substance and without any Accidents, but as already including both of them, though as yet indeterminately; it waits for specializing words, to determine what its Substance or Essence is, and what its accompanying Accidents are. Being an individual (Unum numero), it unites in itself both the essential attributes of its species, and the unessential attributes peculiar to itself.115 It is already understood as including attributes of both kinds; but we wait for predicates to declare (δηλοῦν — ἀποδιδόναι116) what these attributes are. The First or Complete Ens embodies in itself all the Predicaments, though as yet potential and indeterminate, until the predicating adjuncts are specified. There is no priority, in the order of existence, belonging to Substance over Relation or Quality; take away either one of the three, and the First Ens disappears. But in regard to the order of exposition, there is a natural priority, founded on convenience and facility of understanding. The Hoc Aliquid or Unum Numero, which intimates in general outline a certain concretion or co-existence of attributes, though we do not yet know what they are — being as it were a skeleton — comes naturally as Subject before the predicates, whose function is declaratory and specifying as to those attributes: moreover, the essential attributes, which are declared and connoted when we first bestow a specific name on the subject, come naturally before the unessential attributes, which are predicated of the subject already called by a specific name connoting other attributes.117 The essential characters are native and at home; the accidental attributes are domiciliated foreigners.118

It is thus that Aristotle has dealt with Ontology, in one of the four distinct aspects thereof, which he distinguishes from each other; that is, in the distribution of Entia according to their logical order, and the reciprocal interdependence, in predication. Ens is a multivocal word, neither strictly univocal nor altogether equivocal. It denotes (as has been stated above) not a generic aggregate, divisible into species, but an analogical aggregate, starting from one common terminus and ramifying into many derivatives, having no other community except that of relationship to the same terminus.119 The different modes of Ens are distinguished by the degree or variety of such relationship. The Ens Primum, Proprium, Completum, is (in Aristotle’s view) the concrete individual; with a defined essence or essential constituent attributes (τί ἥν εἶναι), and with unessential accessories or accidents also — all embodied and implicated in the One Hoc Aliquid. In the Categoriæ Aristotle analyses this Ens Completum (not metaphysically, into Form and Matter, as we shall find him doing elsewhere, but) logically into Subject and Predicates. In this logical analysis, the Subject which can never be a Predicate stands first; next, come the near kinsmen, Genus and Species (expressed by substantive names, as the First Substance is), which are sometimes Predicates — as applied to Substantia Prima, sometimes Subjects — in regard to the extrinsic accompaniments or accidents;120 in the third rank, come the more remote kinsmen, Predicates pure and simple. These are the logical factors or constituents into which the Ens Completum may be analysed, and which together make it up as a logical sum-total. But no one of these logical constituents has an absolute or independent locus standi, apart from the others. Each is relative to the others; the Subject to its Predicates, not less than the Predicates to their Subject. It is a mistake to describe the Subject as having a real standing separately and alone, and the Predicates as something afterwards tacked on to it. The Subject per se is nothing but a general potentiality or receptivity for Predicates to come; a relative general conception, in which the two, Predicate and Subject, are jointly implicated as Relatum and Correlatum.121

The logical aspect of Ontology, analysing Ens into a common Subject with its various classes of Predicates, appears to begin with Aristotle. He was, as far as we can see, original, in taking as the point of departure for his theory, the individual man, horse, or other perceivable object; in laying down this Concrete Particular with all its outfit of details, as the type of Ens proper, complete and primary; and in arranging into classes the various secondary modes of Ens, according to their different relations to the primary type and the mode in which they contributed to make up its completeness. He thus stood opposed to the Pythagoreans and Platonists, who took their departure from the Universal, as the type of full and true Entity;122 while he also dissented from Demokritus, who recognized no true Ens except the underlying, imperceptible, eternal atoms and vacuum. Moreover Aristotle seems to have been the first to draw up a logical analysis of Entity in its widest sense, as distinguished from that metaphysical analysis which we read in his other works; the two not being contradictory, but distinct and tending to different purposes. Both in the one and in the other, his principal controversy seems to have been with the Platonists, who disregarded both individual objects and accidental attributes; dwelling upon Universals, Genera and Species, as the only real Entia capable of being known. With the Sophists, Aristotle contends on a different ground, accusing them of neglecting altogether the essential attributes, and confining themselves to the region of accidents, in which no certainty was to be found;123 in Plato, he points out the opposite mistake, of confining himself to the essentials, and ascribing undue importance to the process of generic and specific subdivision.124 His own logical analysis takes account both of the essential and accidental, and puts them in what he thinks their proper relation. The Accidental (συμβεβηκός, concomitant, i.e. of the essence) is per se not knowable at all (he contends), nor is ever the object of study pursued in any science; it is little better than a name, designating the lowest degree of Ens, bordering on Non-Ens.125 It is a term comprehending all that he includes under his nine last Categories; yet it is not a term connoting either generic communion, or even so much as analogical relation.126 In the treatise now before us, he does not recognize either that or any other general term as common to all those nine Categories; each of the nine is here treated as a Summum Genus, having its own mode of relationship, and clinging by its own separate thread to the Subject. He acknowledges the Accidents in his classification, not as a class by themselves, but as subordinated to the Essence, and, as so many threads of distinct, variable, and irregular accompaniments, attaching themselves to this constant root, without uniformity or steadiness.127

In discriminating and arranging the Ten Categories, Trendelenburg supposes that Aristotle was guided, consciously or unconsciously, by grammatical considerations, or by a distinction among the parts of speech. It should be remembered that what are now familiarly known as the eight parts of speech, had not yet been distinguished or named in the time of Aristotle, nor did the distinction come into vogue before the time of the Stoic and Alexandrine grammarians, more than a century after him. Essentia or Substantia, the first Category, answers (so Trendelenburg thinks128) to the Substantive; Quantum and Quale represent the Adjective; Ad Aliquid, the comparative Adjective, of which Quantum and Quale are the positive degree; Ubi and Quando the Adverb; Jacere, Habere, Agere, Pati the Verb. Of the last four, Agere and Pati correspond to the active and passive voices of the Verb; Jacere to the neuter or intransitive Verb; and Habere to the peculiar meaning of the Greek perfect — the present result of a past action.

This general view, which Trendelenburg himself conceives as having been only guiding and not decisive or peremptory in the mind of Aristotle,129 appears to me likely and plausible, though Bonitz and others have strongly opposed it. We see from Aristotle’s own language, that the grammatical point of view had great effect upon his mind; that the form (e.g.) of a substantive implied in his view a mode of signification belonging to itself, which was to be taken into account in arranging and explaining the Categories.130 I apprehend that Aristotle was induced to distinguish and set out his Categories by analysing various complete sentences, which would of course include substantives, adjectives, verbs, and adverbs. It is also remarkable that Aristotle should have designated his four last Categories by the indication of verbs, the two immediately preceding by adverbs, the second and third by adjectives, and the first by a substantive. There remains the important Category Ad Aliquid, which has no part of speech corresponding to it specially. Even this Category, though not represented by any part of speech, is nevertheless conceived and defined by Aristotle in a very narrow way, with close reference to the form of expression, and to the requirement of a noun immediately following, in the genitive or dative case. And thus, where there is no special part of speech, the mind of Aristotle still seems to receive its guidance from grammatical and syntactic forms.

We may illustrate the ten Categories of Aristotle by comparing them with the four Categories of the Stoics. During the century succeeding Aristotle’s death, the Stoics, Zeno and Chrysippus (principally the latter), having before them what he had done, proposed a new arrangement for the complete distribution of Subject and Predicates. Their distribution was quadruple instead of decuple. Their first Category was τί, Aliquid or Quiddam — τὸ ὑποκείμενον, the Substratum or Subject. Their second was ποιόν, Quale or Quality. Their third was πὼς ἔχον, certo Modo se habens. Their fourth was, πρός τι πὼς ἔχον, Ad Aliquid certo Modo se habens.131

We do not possess the advantage (which we have in the case of Aristotle) of knowing this quadruple scheme as stated and enforced by its authors. We know it only through the abridgment of Diogenes Laertius, together with incidental remarks and criticisms, chiefly adverse, by Plutarch, Sextus Empiricus, Plotinus, and some Aristotelian commentators. As far as we can make out upon this evidence, it appears that the first Stoic Category corresponded with the Πρώτη Οὐσία, First Essence or Substance of Aristotle. It was exclusively Subject, and could never become Predicate; but it was indispensable as Subject, to the three other Predicates. Its meaning was concrete and particular; for we are told that all general notions or conceptions were excluded by the Stoics from this Category,132 and were designated as Οὔτινα, Non-Individuals, or Non-Particulars. Homo was counted by them, not under the Category τί, Quid, but under the Category ποιόν, Quale; in its character of predicate determining the Subject τίς or τί. The Stoic Category Quale thus included the Aristotelian Second Essences or Substances, and also the Aristotelian differentia. Quale was a species-making Category (εἰδοποιός).133 It declared what was the Essence of the Subject τί — the essential qualities or attributes, but also the derivative manifestations thereof, coinciding with what is called the proprium in Porphyry’s Eisagoge. It therefore came next in order immediately after τί: since the Essence of the Subject must be declared, before you proceed to declare its Accidents.

The Third Stoic Category (πὼς ἔχον) comprised a portion of what Aristotle ranked under Quale, and all that he ranked under Quantum, Ubi, Quando, Agere, Pati, Jacere, Habere. The fourth Stoic Category coincided with the Aristotelian Ad Aliquid. The third was thus intended to cover what were understood as absolute or non-relative Accidents; the fourth included what were understood as Relative Accidents.

The order of arrangement among the four was considered as fixed and peremptory. They were not co-ordinate species under one and the same genus, but superordinate and subordinate,134 the second presupposing and attaching to the first; the third, presupposing and attaching to the first, plus the second; the fourth, presupposing and attaching to the first, plus the second and third. The first proposition to be made is, in answer to the question Quale Quid? You answer Tale Aliquid, declaring the essential attributes. Upon this, the next question is put, Quali Modo se habens? You answer by a term of the third Category, declaring one or more of the accidental attributes non-relative, Tale Aliquid, tali Modo se habens. Upon this, the fourth and last question follows, Quali Modo se habens ad alia? Answer is made by the predicate of the fourth Category, i.e. a Relative. Hic Aliquis — homo (1), niger (2), servus (3).

In comparing the ten Aristotelian with the four Stoic Categories we see that the first great difference is in the extent and comprehension of Quale, which Aristotle restricts on one side (by distinguishing from it Essentia Secunda), and enlarges on the other (by including in it many attributes accidental and foreign to the Essence). The second difference is, that the Stoics did not subdivide their third Category, but included therein all the matter of six Aristotelian Categories,135 and much of the matter of the Aristotelian Quale. Both schemes agree on two points:— 1. In taking as the point of departure the concrete, particular, individual, Substance. 2. In the narrow, restricted, inadequate conception formed of the Relative — Ad Aliquid.

Plotinus himself recognizes five Summa or Prima Genera,136 (he does not call them Categories) Ens, Motus, Quies, Idem, Diversum; the same as those enumerated in the Platonic Sophistes. He does not admit Quantum, Quale, or Ad Aliquid, to be Prima Genera; still less the other Aristotelian Categories. Moreover, he insists emphatically on the distinction between the intelligible and the sensible world, which distinction he censures Aristotle for neglecting. His five Genera he applies directly and principally to the intelligible world. For the sensible world he admits ultimately five Catgories; Substantia or Essentia (though he conceives this as fluctuating between Form, Matter, and the Compound of the two), Ad Aliquid, Quantum, Quale, Motus. But he doubts whether Quantum, Quale, and Motus, are not comprehended in Ad Aliquid.137 He considers, moreover, that Sensible Substance is not Substance, properly speaking, but only an imitation thereof; a congeries of non-substantial elements, qualities and matter.138 Dexippus,139 in answering the objections of Plotinus, insists much on the difference between Aristotle’s point of view in the Categoriæ, in the Physica, and in the Metaphysica. In the Categoriæ, Aristotle dwells mainly on sensible substances (such as the vulgar understand) and the modes of naming and describing them.

Galen also recognizes five Categories; but not the same five as Plotinus. He makes a new list, formed partly out of the Aristotelian ten, partly out of the Stoic four:— Οὐσία, ποσόν, ποιόν, πρός τι, πρό τι πὼς ἔχον.140

 

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The latter portion of this Aristotelian treatise, on the Categories or Predicaments, consists of an Appendix, usually known under the title of ‘Post-Predicamenta;’141 wherein the following terms or notions are analysed and explained — Opposita, Prius, Simul, Motus, Habere.

Of Opposita, Aristotle reckons four modes, analogous to each other, yet not different species under the same genus:142 — 1. Relative-Opposita — Relatum and Correlatum. 2. Contraria. 3. Habitus and Privatio. 4. Affirmatio and Negatio.

These four modes of opposition have passed from the Categoriæ of Aristotle into all or most of the modern treatises on Logic. The three last of the four are usefully classed together, and illustrated by their contrasts with each other. But as to the first of the four, I cannot think that Aristotle has been happy in the place which he has assigned to it. To treat Relativa as a variety of Opposita, appears to me an inversion of the true order of classification; placing the more comprehensive term in subordination to the less comprehensive. Instead of saying that Relatives are a variety of the Opposite, we ought rather to say that Opposites are varieties of the Relative. We have here another proof of what has been remarked a few pages above; the narrow and inadequate conception which Aristotle formed of his Ad Aliquid or the Relative; restricting it to cases in which the describing phrase is grammatically elliptical.143 The three classes last-mentioned by Aristotle (1. Contraria, 2. Habitus and Privatio, 3. Affirmatio and Negatio) are truly Opposita; in each there is a different mode of opposition, which it is good to distinguish from the others. But the Relatum and its Correlatum, as such, are not necessarily Opposite at all; they are compared or conceived in conjunction with each other; while a name, called relative, which connotes such comparison, &c., is bestowed upon each. Opposita fall under this general description, as parts (together with other parts not Opposita) of a larger whole. They ought properly to be called Opposite-Relativa: the phrase Relative-Opposita, as applied to Relatives generally, being discontinued as incorrect.144

From Opposita Aristotle passes to Prius and Simul; with the different modes of each.145 Successive and Synchronous, are the two most general classes under which facts or events can be cast. They include between them all that is meant by Order in Time. They admit of no definition, and can be explained only by appeal to immediate consciousness in particular cases. Priority and Simultaneity, in this direct and primary sense, are among the clearest and most impressive notions of the human mind. But Aristotle recognizes four additional meanings of these same words, which he distinguishes from the primary, in the same way as he distinguishes (in the ten Categories) the different meanings of Essentia, in a gradually descending scale of analogy. The secondary Prius is that which does not reciprocate according to the order of existence with its Posterius; where the Posterius presupposes the Prius, while the Prius does not presuppose the Posterius: for example, given two, the existence of one is necessarily implied; but given one, the existence of two is not implied.146 The tertiary Prius is that which comes first in the arrangements of science or discourse: as, in geometry, point and line are prior as compared with the diagrams and demonstrations; in writing, letters are prior as compared with syllables; in speeches, the proem is prior as compared with the exposition. A fourth mode of Prius (which is the most remote and far-fetched) is, that the better and more honourable is prius naturâ. Still a fifth mode is, when, of two Relatives which reciprocate with each other as to existence, one is cause and the other effect: in such a case, the cause is said to be prior by nature to the effect.147 For example, if it be a fact that Caius exists, the proposition “Caius exists,” is a true proposition; and vice versâ, if the proposition “Caius exists” is a true proposition, it is a fact that Caius exists. But though from either of these you can infer the other, the truth of the proposition is the effect, and not the cause, of the reality of the fact. Hence it is correct to say that the latter is prius naturâ, and the former posterius naturâ.

This is a sort of article in a Philosophical Dictionary, tracing the various derivative senses of two very usual correlative phrases; and there is another article in the fourth book of the Metaphysica, where the derivations of the same terms are again traced out, though by roads considerably different.148 The two terms are relatives; Prius implies a Posterius, as Simul implies another Simul; and it is an useful process to discriminate clearly the various meanings assigned to each. Aristotle has done this, not indeed clearly nor consistently with himself, but with an earnest desire to elucidate what he felt to be confused and perplexing. Yet there are few terms in his philosophy which are more misleading. Though he sets out, plainly and repeatedly the primary and literal sense of Priority, (the temporal or real), as discriminated from the various secondary and metaphorical senses, nevertheless when he comes to employ the term Prius in the course of his reasonings, he often does so without specifying in which sense he intends it to be understood. And as the literal sense (temporal or real priority) is the most present and familial to every man’s mind, so the term is often construed in this sense when it properly bears only the metaphorical sense. The confusion of logical or emotional priority (priority either in logical order of conception, or in esteem and respect) with priority in the order of time, involving separability of existence, is a frequent source of misunderstanding in the Aristotelian Physics and Metaphysics. The order of logical antecedence and sequence, or the fact of logical coexistence, is of great importance to be understood, with a view to the proof of truth, to the disproof of error, or to the systematization of our processes of thought; but we must keep in mind that what is prior in the logical order is not for that reason prior in temporal order, or separable in real existence, or fit to be appealed to as a real Cause or Agent.149

 

 

 

 

 

In the preceding chapter I enumerated and discussed what Aristotle calls the Categories. We shall now proceed to the work which stands second in the aggregate called the Organon — the treatise De Interpretatione.

We have already seen that the Aristotelian Ontology distinguishes one group of varieties of Ens (or different meanings of the term Ens) as corresponding to the diversity of the ten Categories; while recognizing also another variety of Ens as Truth, with its antithesis Non-Ens as Falsehood.1 The former group was dealt with in the preceding chapter; the latter will form the subject of the present chapter. In both, indeed, Ontology is looked at as implicated with Logic; that is, Ens is considered as distributed under significant names, fit to be coupled in propositions. This is the common basis both of the Categoriæ and of the treatise De Interpretatione. The whole classification of the Categories rests on the assumption of the proposition with its constituent parts, and on the different relation borne by each of the nine genera of predicates towards their common Subject. But in the Categoriæ no account was taken of the distinction between truth and falsehood, in the application of these predicates to the Subject. If we say of Sokrates, that he is fair, pug-nosed, brave, wise, &c., we shall predicate truly; if we say that he is black, high-nosed, cowardly, stupid, &c., we shall predicate falsely; but in each case our predicates will belong to the same Category — that of Quale. Whether we describe him as he now is, standing, talking, in the market-place at Athens; or whether we describe him as he is not, sitting down, singing, in Egypt — in both speeches, our predicates rank under the same Categories, Jacere, Agere, Ubi. No account is taken in the Categoriæ of the distinction between true and false application of predicates; we are only informed under what number of general heads all our predicates must be included, whether our propositions be true or false in each particular case.

But this distinction between true and false, which remained unnoticed in the Categoriæ, comes into the foreground in the treatise De Interpretatione. The Proposition, or enunciative speech,2 is distinguished from other varieties of speech (interrogative, precative, imperative) by its communicating what is true or what is false. It is defined to be a complex significant speech, composed of two terms at least, each in itself significant, yet neither of them, separately taken, communicating truth or falsehood. The terms constituting the Proposition are declared to be a Noun in the nominative case, as Subject, and a Verb, as Predicate; this latter essentially connoting time, in order that the synthesis of the two may become the enunciation of a fact or quasi-fact, susceptible of being believed or disbelieved. All this mode of analysing a proposition, different from the analysis thereof given or implied in the Categoriæ, is conducted with a view to bring out prominently its function of imparting true or false information. The treatise called the Categoriæ is a theory of significant names subjicible and predicable, fit to serve as elements of propositions, but not yet looked at as put together into actual propositions; while in the treatise De Interpretatione they are assumed to be put together, and a theory is given of Propositions thus completed.

Words spoken are marks significant of mental impressions associated with them both by speaker and hearer; words written are symbols of those thus uttered. Both speech and writing differ in different nations, having no natural connection with the things signified. But these last, the affections or modifications of the mind, and the facts or objects of which they are representations or likenesses, are the same to all. Words are marks primarily and directly of the first, secondarily and indirectly of the second.3 Aristotle thus recognizes these two aspects — first, the subjective, next the objective, as belonging, both of them conjointly, to significant language, yet as logically distinguishable; the former looking to the proximate correlatum, the latter to the ultimate.

For this doctrine, that the mental affections of mankind, and the things or facts which they represent, are the same everywhere, though the marks whereby they are signified differ, Aristotle refers us to his treatise De Animâ, to which he says that it properly belongs.4 He thus recognizes the legitimate dependence of Logic on Psychology or Mental Philosophy.

That which is signified by words (either single or in combination) is some variety of these mental affections or of the facts which they represent. But the signification of a single Term is distinguished, in an important point, from the signification of that conjunction of terms which we call a Proposition. A noun, or a verb, belonging to the aggregate called a language, is associated with one and the same phantasm5 or notion, without any conscious act of conjunction or disjunction, in the minds of speakers and hearers: when pronounced, it arrests for a certain time the flow of associated ideas, and determines the mind to dwell upon that particular group which is called its meaning.6 But neither the noun nor the verb, singly taken, does more than this; neither one of them affirms, or denies, or communicates any information true or false. For this last purpose, we must conjoin the two together in a certain way, and make a Proposition. The signification of the Proposition is thus specifically distinct from that of either of its two component elements. It communicates what purports to be matter of fact, which may be either true or false; in other words, it implies in the speaker, and raises in the hearer, the state of belief or disbelief, which does not attach either to the noun or to the verb separately. Herein the Proposition is discriminated from other significant arrangements of words (precative, interrogative, which convey no truth or falsehood), as well as from its own component parts. Each of these parts, noun and verb, has a significance of its own; but these are the ultimate elements of speech, for the parts of the noun or of the verb have no significance at all. The Verb is distinguished from the Noun by connoting time, and also by always serving as predicate to some noun as subject.7

Aristotle intimates his opinion, distinctly and even repeatedly, upon the main question debated by Plato in the Kratylus. He lays it down that all significant speech is significant by convention only, and not by nature or as a natural instrument.8 He tells us also that, in this treatise, he does not mean to treat of all significant speech, but only of that variety which is known as enunciative. This last, as declaring truth or falsehood, is the only part belonging to Logic as he conceives it; other modes of speech, the precative, imperative, interrogative, &c., belong more naturally to Rhetoric or Poetic.9 Enunciative speech may be either simple or complex; it may be one enunciation, declaring one predicate (either in one word or in several words) of one subject; or it may comprise several such.10 The conjunction of the predicate with the subject constitutes the variety of proposition called Affirmation; the disjunction of the same two is Negation or Denial.11 But such conjunction or disjunction, operated by the cogitative act, between two mental states, takes place under the condition that, wherever conjunction may be enunciated, there also disjunction may be enunciated, and vice versâ. Whatever may be affirmed, it is possible also to deny; whatever may be denied, it is possible also to affirm.12

To every affirmative proposition there is thus opposed a contradictory negative proposition; to every negative a contradictory affirmative. This pair of contradictory opposites may be called an Antiphasis; always assuming that the predicate and subject of the two shall be really the same, without equivocation of terms — a proviso necessary to guard against troublesome puzzles started by Sophists.13 And we must also distinguish these propositions opposite as Contradictories, from propositions opposite as Contraries. For this, it has to be observed that there is a distinction among things (πράγματα) as universal or singular, according as they are, in their nature, predicable of a number or not: homo is an example of the first, and Kallias is an example of the second. When, now, we affirm a predicate universally, we must attach the mark of universality to the subject and not to the predicate; we must say, Every man is white, No man is white. We cannot attach the mark of universality to the predicate, and say, Every man is every animal; this would be untrue.14 An affirmation, then, is contradictorily opposed to a negation, when one indicates that the subject is universally taken, and the other, that the subject is taken not universally, e.g. Omnis homo est albus, Non omnis homo est albus; Nullus homo est albus, Est aliquis homo albus. The opposition is contrary, when the affirmation is universal, and the negation is also universal, i.e., when the subject is marked as universally taken in each: for example, Omnis homo est albus, Nullus homo est albus. Of these contrary opposites, both cannot be true, but both may be false. Contradictory opposites, on the other hand, while they cannot both be true, cannot both be false; one must be false and the other true. This holds also where the subject is a singular term, as Sokrates.15 If, however, an universal term appear as subject in the proposition indefinitely, that is, without any mark of universality whatever, e.g., Est albus homo, Non est albus homo, then the affirmative and negative are not necessarily either contrary or contradictory, though they may be so sometimes: there is no opposition, properly speaking, between them; both may alike be true. This last observation (says Aristotle) will seem strange, because many persons suppose that Non est homo albus is equivalent to Nullus homo est albus; but the meaning of the two is not the same, nor does the truth of the latter follow from that of the former,16 since homo in the former may be construed as not universally taken.

It thus appears that there is always one negation corresponding to one and the same affirmation; making up together the Antiphasis, or pair of contradictory opposites, quite distinct from contrary opposites. By one affirmation we mean, that in which there is one predicate only, and one subject only, whether taken universally or not universally:—

But this will only hold on the assumption that album signifies one and the same thing. If there be one name signifying two things not capable of being generalized into one nature, or not coming under the same definition, then the affirmation is no longer one.17 Thus if any one applies the term himation to signify both horse and man, then the proposition, Est himation album, is not one affirmation, but two; it is either equivalent to Est homo albus and Est equus albus — or it means nothing at all; for this or that individual man is not a horse. Accordingly, in this case also, as well as in that mentioned above, it is not indispensable that one of the two propositions constituting the Antiphasis should be true and the other false.18

With these exceptions Aristotle lays it down, that, in every Antiphasis, one proposition must be true and the other must be false. But (he goes on to say) this is only true in regard to matters past or present; it is not true in regard to events particular and future. To admit it in regard to these latter, would be to affirm that the sequences of events are all necessary, and none of them casual or contingent; whereas we know, by our own personal experience, that many sequences depend upon our deliberation and volition, and are therefore not necessary. If all future sequences are necessary, deliberation on our part must be useless. We must therefore (he continues) recognize one class of sequences which are not uniform — not predetermined by antecedents; events which may happen, but which also may not happen, for they will not happen. Thus, my coat may be cut into two halves, but it never will be so cut; it will wear out without any such bisection occurring.19

If you affirm the reality of a fact past or present, your affirmation is of necessity determinately true, or it is determinately false, i.e. the contradictory negation is determinately true. But if you affirm the reality of a fact to come, then your affirmation is not by necessity determinately true, nor is the contradictory negation determinately true. Neither the one nor the other separately is true: nothing is true except the disjunctive antithesis as a whole, including both. If you say, To-morrow there will either be a sea-fight, or there will not be a sea-fight, this disjunctive or indeterminate proposition, taken as a whole, will be true. Yet neither of its constituent parts will be determinately true; neither the proposition, To-morrow there will be a sea-fight, nor the proposition, To-morrow there will not be a sea-fight. But if you speak with regard to past or present — if you say, Yesterday either there was a sea-fight or there was not a sea-fight — then not only will the disjunctive as a whole be true, but also one or other of its parts will be determinately true.20

This remarkable logical distinction is founded on Aristotle’s ontological or physical doctrines respecting the sequence and conjunction of events. He held (as we shall see more fully in the Physica and other treatises) that sequences throughout the Kosmos were to a certain extent regular, to a certain extent irregular. The exterior sphere of the Kosmos (the Aplanēs) with the countless number of fixed stars fastened into it, was a type of regularity and uniformity; eternal and ever moving in the same circular orbit, by necessity of its own nature, and without any potentiality of doing otherwise. But the earth and the elemental bodies, organized and unorganized, below the lunar sphere and in the interior of the Kosmos, were of inferior perfection and of very different nature. They were indeed in part governed and pervaded by the movement and influence of the celestial substance within which they were comprehended, and from which they borrowed their Form or constituent essence; but they held this Form implicated with Matter, i.e. the principle of potentiality, change, irregularity, generation, and destruction, &c. There are thus in these sublunary bodies both constant tendencies and variable tendencies. The constant Aristotle calls ‘Nature;’ which always aspires to Good, or to perpetual renovation of Forms as perfect as may be, though impeded in this work by adverse influences, and therefore never producing any thing but individuals comparatively defective and sure to perish. The variable he calls ‘Spontaneity’ and ‘Chance,’ forming an independent agency inseparably accompanying Nature — always modifying, distorting, frustrating, the full purposes of Nature. Moreover, the different natural agencies often interfere with each other, while the irregular tendency interferes with them all. So far as Nature acts, in each of her distinct agencies, the phenomena before us are regular and predictable; all that is uniform, and all that (without being quite uniform) recurs usually or frequently, is her work. But, besides and along with Nature, there is the agency of Chance and Spontaneity, which is essentially irregular and unpredictable. Under this agency there are possibilities both for and against; either of two alternative events may happen.

It is with a view to this doctrine about the variable kosmical agencies or potentialities that Aristotle lays down the logical doctrine now before us, distinguishing propositions affirming particular facts past or present, from propositions affirming particular facts future. In both cases alike, the disjunctive antithesis, as a whole, is necessarily true. Either there was a sea-fight yesterday, or there was not a sea-fight yesterday: Either there will be a sea-fight to-morrow, or there will not be a sea-fight to-morrow — both these disjunctives alike are necessarily true. There is, however, a difference between the one disjunctive couple and the other, when we take the affirmation separately or the negation separately. If we say, There will be a sea-fight to-morrow, that proposition is not necessarily true nor is it necessarily false; to say that it is either the one or the other (Aristotle argues) would imply that every thing in nature happened by necessary agency — that the casual, the potential, the may be or may not be, is stopped out and foreclosed. But this last is really the case, in regard to a past fact. There was a sea-fight yesterday, is a proposition either necessarily true or necessarily false. Here the antecedent agencies have already spent themselves, blended, and become realized in one or other of the two alternative determinate results. There is no potentiality any longer open; all the antecedent potentiality has been foreclosed. The proposition therefore is either necessarily true or necessarily false; though perhaps we may not know whether it is the one or the other.

In defending his position regarding this question, Aristotle denies (what he represents his opponents as maintaining) that all events happen by necessity. He points to the notorious fact that we deliberate and take counsel habitually, and that the event is frequently modified, according as we adopt one mode of conduct or another; which could not be (he contends), if the event could be declared beforehand by a proposition necessarily or determinately true. What Aristotle means by necessity, however, is at bottom nothing else than constant sequence or conjunction, conceived by him as necessary, because the fixed ends which Nature is aiming at can only be attained by certain fixed means. To this he opposes Spontaneity and Chance, disturbing forces essentially inconstant and irregular; admitting, indeed, of being recorded when they have produced effects in the past, yet defying all power of prediction as to those effects which they will produce in the future. Hence arises the radical distinction that he draws in Logic, between the truth of propositions relating to the past (or present) and to the future.

But this logical distinction cannot be sustained, because his metaphysical doctrine (on which it is founded) respecting the essentially irregular or casual, is not defensible. His opponents would refuse to grant that there is any agency essentially or in itself irregular, casual, and unpredictable.21 The aggregate of Nature consists of a variety of sequences, each of them constant and regular, though intermixed, co-operating, and conflicting with each other, in such manner that the resulting effects are difficult to refer to their respective causes, and are not to be calculated beforehand except by the highest scientific efforts; often, not by any scientific efforts. We must dismiss the hypothesis of Aristotle, assuming agencies essentially irregular and unpredictable, either as to the past or as to the future. The past has been brought about by agencies all regular, however multifarious and conflicting, and the future will be brought about by the like: there is no such distinction of principle as that which Aristotle lays down between propositions respecting the past and propositions respecting the future.

There is, indeed, one distinction between inferences as to the past and inferences as to the future, which may have contributed to suggest, though it will not justify, the position here laid down by Aristotle. In regard to the disjunctive — To-morrow there will be a sea-fight, or there will not be a sea-fight — nothing more trustworthy than inference or anticipation is practicable: the anticipation of a sagacious man with full knowledge is more likely to prove correct than that of a stupid man with little knowledge; yet both are alike anticipations, unverifiable at the present moment. But if we turn to the other disjunctive — Yesterday there was a sea-fight, or there was not a sea-fight — we are no longer in the same position. The two disputants, supposed to declare thus, may have been far off, and may have no other means of deciding the doubt than inference. But the inference here is not unverifiable: there exist, or may exist, witnesses or spectators of the two fleets, who can give direct attestation of the reality, and can either confirm or refute the inference, negative or affirmative, made by an absentee. Thus the proposition, Yesterday there was a sea-fight, or the other, Yesterday there was not a sea-fight, will be verifiable or determinably true. There are indeed many inferences as to the past, in regard to which no direct evidence is attainable. Still this is an accident; for such direct evidence may always be supposed or imagined as capable of being brought into court. But, in respect to the future, verification is out of the question; we are confined to the region of inference, well or ill-supported. Here, then, we have a material distinction between the past and the future. It was probably present to the mind of Aristotle, though he misconceives its real extent of operation, and makes it subservient to his still more comprehensive classification of the different contemporaneous agencies (regular and irregular) which he supposes to pervade the Kosmos.

In the treatise before us, he next proceeds to state what collocation of the negative particle constitutes the special or legitimate negation to any given affirmation, or what are the real forms of proposition, standing in contradictory opposition to certain other forms, so as to make up one Antiphasis.22 The simplest proposition must include a noun and a verb, either definite or indefinite: non homo is a specimen of an indefinite noun — non currit, of an indefinite verb. There must be, in any one proposition, one subject and one predicate; even the indefinite noun or verb signifies, in a certain sense, one thing. Each affirmation comprises a noun, or an indefinite noun, with a verb; the special corresponding or contradictory negation (making up the Antiphasis along with the former) comprises a noun (or an indefinite noun) with an indefinite verb. The simplest proposition is —

Affirmative.		Contradictory Negative.
Est homo	… … … …	Non est homo.
Est non homo	… … … …	Non est non homo.

Here are only two pairs of antithetic propositions, or one quaternion. The above is an indefinite proposition (which may be either universal or not). When we universalize it, or turn it an universal proposition, we have —

Affirmative.		Contradictory Negative.
Est omnis homo	… … … …	Non est omnis homo.
Est omnis non homo	… … … …	Non est omnis non homo.

The above are specimens of the smallest proposition; but when we regard larger propositions, such as those (called tertii adjacentis) where there are two terms besides est, the collocation of the negative particle becomes more complicated, and requires fuller illustration. Take, as an example, the affirmative Est justus homo, the true negation of this is, Non est justus homo. In these two propositions, homo is the subject; but we may join the negative with it, and we may consider non homo, not less than homo, as a distinct subject for predication, affirmative or negative. Farther, we may attach est and non est either to justus or to non justus as the predicate of the proposition, with either homo, or non homo, as subject. We shall thus obtain a double mode of antithesis, or two distinct quaternions, each containing two pairs of contradictory propositions. The second pair of the first quaternion will not be in the same relation as the second pair of the second quaternion, to the proposition just mentioned, viz. — (A) Est justus homo; with its negative, (B) Non est justice homo.23

First, let us assume homo as subject. We have then

(QUATERNION I.)
(A) Est justus homo	… … … …	(B) Non est justus homo.
(D) Non est non justus homo	… … … …	(C) Est non justus homo.

Examining the relation borne by the last two among these four propositions (C and D), to the first two (A and B), the simple affirmative and negative, we see that B is the legitimate negative of A, and D that of C. We farther see that B is a consequence of C, and D a consequence of A, but not vice versâ: that is, if C is true, B must certainly be true; but we cannot infer, because B is true, that C must also be true: while, if A is true, D must also be true; but D may perhaps be true, though A be not true. In other words, the relation of D to A and of C to B, is the same as it would be if the privative term injustus were substituted in place of non justus; i.e. if the proposition C (Est injustus homo) be true, the other proposition B (Non est justus homo) must certainly be true, but the inference will not hold conversely; while if the proposition A (Est justus homo) be true, it must also be true to say D (Non est injustus homo), but not vice versâ.24

Such is the result obtained when we take homo as the subject of the proposition; we get four propositions, of which the two last (C and D) stand to the two first (B and A) in the same relation as if they (C and D) were privative propositions. But if, instead of homo, we take non homo as Subject of the proposition (justus or non justus being predicates as before), we shall then obtain two other pairs of contradictory propositions; and the second pair of this new quaternion will not stand in that same relation to these same propositions B and A. We shall then find that, instead of B and A, we have a different negative and a different affirmative, as the appropriate correlates to the third and fourth propositions. The new quaternion of propositions, with non homo as subject, will stand thus —

(QUATERNION II.)
(E) Est justus non homo	… … … …	(F) Non est justus non homo.
(H) Non est non justus non homo	… … … …	(G) Est non justus non homo.25

Here we see that propositions G and H do not stand to B and A in the same relations as C and D stand to B and A; but that they stand in that same relation to two perfectly different propositions, F and E. That is, if in place of non justus, in propositions G and H, we substitute the privative term injustus (thus turning G into Est injustus non homo, and turning H into Non est injustus non homo), the relation of G, when thus altered, to F, and the relation of H, when thus altered, to E, will be the same as it was before. Or, in other words, if G be true, F will certainly be true, but not vice versâ; and if E be true, H will certainly be true, but not vice versâ.

The propositions which we have hitherto studied have been indefinite; that is, they might be universal or not. But if we attach to them the sign of universality, and construe them as universals, all that we have said about them would still continue to be true, except that the propositions which are diametrically (or diagonally) opposed would not be both true in so many instances. Thus, let us take the first quaternion of propositions, in which est is attached to homo, and let us construe these propositions as universal. They will stand thus —

(A) Omnis est homo justus	… … … …	(B) Non omnis est homo justus.
(D) Non omnis est homo non justus	… … … …	(C) Omnis est homo non justus.

In these propositions, as in the others before noticed, the same relation prevails between C and B, and between A and D; if C be true, B also is true, but not vice versâ; if A be true, D also will be true, but not vice versâ. But the propositions diagonally opposed will not be so often alike true:26 thus, if A be true (Omnis est homo justus), C cannot be true (Omnis est homo non justus); whereas in the former quaternion of propositions (indefinite, and therefore capable of being construed as not universal) A and C might both be alike true.27

It is thus that Aristotle explains the distinctions of meaning in propositions, arising out of the altered collocation of the negative particle; the distinction between (1) Non est justus, (2) Est non justus, (3) Est injustus. The first of the three is the only true negative, corresponding to the affirmative Est Justus. The second is not a negative at all, but an affirmative (ἐκ μεταθέσεως, or by transposition, as Theophrastus afterwards called it). The third is an affirmative, but privative. Both the second and the third stand related in the same manner to the first; that is, the truth of the first is a necessary consequence either of the second or of the third, but neither of these can be certainly inferred from the first. This is explained still more clearly in the Prior Analytics; to which Aristotle here makes express reference.28

After this very subtle and obscure distinction between propositions secundi adjacentis, and those tertii adjacentis, in respect to the application of the negative, Aristotle touches on the relation of contrariety between propositions. The universal affirmation Omne est animal justum has for its contrary Nullum est animal justum. It is plain that both these propositions will never be true at once. But the negatives or contradictories of both may well be true at once: thus, Non omne animal est justum (the contradictory of the first) and Est aliquid animal justum (the contradictory of the second) may be and are both alike true. If the affirmative proposition Omnis homo est non justus be true, the negative Nullus est homo justus must also be true; if the affirmative Est aliquis homo justus be true, the negative Non omnis homo est non justus must also be true. In singular propositions, wherever the negative or denial is true, the indefinite affirmative (ἐκ μεταθέσεως, in the language of Theophrastus) corresponding to it will also be true; in universal propositions, the same will not always hold. Thus, if you ask, Is Sokrates wise? and receive for answer No, you are warranted in affirming, Sokrates is not wise (the indefinite affirmation). But if you ask, Are all men wise? and the answer is No, you are not warranted in affirming, All men are not wise. This last is the contrary of the proposition, All men are wise; and two contraries may both be false. You are warranted in declaring only the contradictory negative, Not all men are wise.29

Neither the indefinite noun (οὐκ ἄνθρωπος) nor the indefinite verb (οὐ τρέχει — οὐ δίκαιος) is a real and true negation, though it appears to be such. For every negation ought to be either true or false; but non homo, if nothing be appended to it, is not more true or false (indeed less so) than homo.30

The transposition of substantive and adjective makes no difference in the meaning of the phrase; Est albus homo is equivalent to Est homo albus. If it were not equivalent, there would be two negations corresponding to the same affirmation; but we have shown that there can be only one negation corresponding to one affirmation, so as to make up an Antiphasis.31

In one and the same proposition, it is indispensable that the subject be one and the predicate one; if not, the proposition will not be one, but two or more. Both the subject and the predicate indeed may consist of several words; but in each case the several words must coalesce to make one total unity; otherwise the proposition will not be one. Thus, we may predicate of man — animal, bipes, mansuetum; but these three coalesce into one, so that the proposition will be a single one. On the other hand the three terms homo, albus, ambulans, do not coalesce into one; and therefore, if we predicate all respecting the same subject, or if we affirm the same predicate respecting all three, expressing them all by one word, the proposition will not be one, but several.32

Aristotle follows this up by a remark interesting to note, because we see how much his generalities were intended to bear upon the actual practice of his day, in regard to dialectical disputation. In dialectic exercise, the respondent undertook to defend a thesis, so as to avoid inconsistency between one answer and another, against any questions which might be put by the opponent. Both the form of the questions, and the form of the answers, were determined beforehand. No question was admissible which tended to elicit information or a positive declaration from the respondent. A proposition was tendered to him, and he was required to announce whether he affirmed or denied it. The question might be put in either one of two ways: either by the affirmative alone, or by putting both the affirmative and the negative; either in the form, Is Rhetoric estimable? or in the form, Is Rhetoric estimable or not? To the first form the respondent answered Yes or No: to the second form, he replied by repeating either the affirmative or the negative, as he preferred. But it was not allowable to ask him, What is Rhetoric? so as to put him under the necessity of enunciating an explanation of his own.33

Under these canons of dialectic debate, each question was required to be really and truly one, so as to admit of a definite answer in one word. The questioner was either unfair or unskilful, if he wrapped up two questions really distinct in the same word, and thus compelled the respondent either to admit them both, or to deny them both, at once. Against this inconvenience Aristotle seeks to guard, by explaining what are the conditions under which one and the same word does in fact include more than one question. He had before brought to view the case of an equivocal term, which involves such duplication: if himation means both horse and man, it will often happen that questions respecting himation cannot be truly answered either by Yes or No. He now brings to view a different case in which the like ambiguity is involved. To constitute one proposition, it is essential both that the subject should be one, and that the predicate should be one; either of them indeed may be called by two or three names, but these names must coalesce into one. Thus, animal, bipes, mansuetum, coalesce into homo, and may be employed either as one subject or as one predicate; but homo, albus, ambulans, do not coalesce into one; so that if we say, Kallias est homo, albus, ambulans, the proposition is not one but three.34 Accordingly, the respondent cannot make one answer to a question thus complicated. We thus find Aristotle laying down principles — and probably no one had ever attempted to do so before him — for the correct management of that dialectical debate which he analyses so copiously in the Topica.

There are cases (he proceeds to state) in which two predicates may be truly affirmed, taken separately, respecting a given subject, but in which they cannot be truly affirmed, taken together.35 Kallias is a currier, Kallias is good — both these propositions may be true; yet the proposition, Kallias is a good currier, may not be true. The two predicates are both of them accidental co-inhering in the same individual; but do not fuse themselves into one. So, too, we may truly say, Homer is a poet; but we cannot truly say, Homer is.36 We see by this last remark,37 how distinctly Aristotle assigned a double meaning to est: first, per se, as meaning existence; next, relatively, as performing the function of copula in predication. He tells us, in reply either to Plato or to some other contemporaries, that though we may truly say, Non-Ens est opinabile, we cannot truly say Non-Ens est, because the real meaning of the first of these propositions is, Non-Ens est opinabile non esse.38

Aristotle now discusses the so-called MODAL Propositions — the Possible and the Necessary. What is the appropriate form of Antiphasis in the case of such propositions, where possible to be, or necessary to be, is joined to the simple is. After a chapter of some length, he declares that the form of Antiphasis suitable for the Simple proposition will not suit for a Modal proposition; and that in the latter the sign of negation must be annexed to the modal adjective — possible, not possible, &c. His reasoning here is not merely involved, but substantially incorrect; for, in truth, both in one and in the other, the sign of contradictory negation ought to be annexed to the copula.39 From the Antiphasis in Modals Aristotle proceeds to legitimate sequences admissible in such propositions, how far any one of them can be inferred from any other.40 He sets out four tables, each containing four modal determinations interchangeable with each other.

1.	3.
1. Possible (physically) to be.	1. Not possible (physically) to be.
2. Possible (logically) to be.	2. Not possible (logically) to be.
3. Not impossible to be.	3. Impossible to be.
4. Not necessary to be.	4. Necessary not to be.
2.	4.
1. Possible (physically) not to be.	1. Not possible (physically) not to be.
2. Possible (logically) not to be.	2. Not possible (logically) not to be.
3. Not impossible not to be.	3. Impossible not to be.
4. Not necessary not to be.	4. Necessary to be.

Aristotle canvasses these tables at some length, and amends them partly by making the fourth case of the second table change place with the fourth of the first.41 He then discusses whether we can correctly say that the necessary to be is also possible to be. If not, then we might say correctly that the necessary to be is not possible to be; for one side or other of a legitimate Antiphasis may always be truly affirmed. Yet this would be absurd: accordingly we must admit that the necessary to be is also possible to be. Here, however, we fall seemingly into a different absurdity; for the possible to be is also possible not to be; and how can we allow that what is necessary to be is at the same time possible not to be? To escape from such absurdities on both sides, we must distinguish two modes of the Possible: one, in which the affirmative and negative are alike possible; the other in which the affirmative alone is possible, because it is always and constantly realized. If a man is actually walking, we know that it is possible for him to walk; and even when he is not walking, we say the same, because we believe that he may walk if he chooses. He is not always walking; and in his case, as in all other intermittent realities, the affirmative and the negative are alike possible. But this is not true in the case of necessary, constant, and sempiternal realities. With them there is no alternative possibility, but only the possibility of their doing or continuing to do. The celestial bodies revolve, sempiternally and necessarily; it is therefore possible for them to revolve; but there is no alternative possibility; it is not possible for them not to revolve. Perpetual reality thus includes the unilateral, but not the bilateral, possibility.42

Having thus stated that possible to be, in this unilateral and equivocal sense but in no other, is a legitimate consequence of necessary to be, Aristotle proceeds to lay down a tripartite distinction which surprises us in this place. “It is plain from what has been said that that which is by Necessity, is in Act or Actuality; so that if things sempiternal are prior, Actuality is prior to Possibility. Some things, like the first (or celestial) substances, are Actualities without Possibility; others (the generated and perishable substances) which are prior in nature but posterior in generation, are Actualities along with Possibility; while a third class are Possibilities only, and never come into Actuality” (such as the largest number, or the least magnitude).43

Now the sentence just translated (enunciating a doctrine of Aristotle’s First Philosophy rather than of Logic) appears decidedly to contradict what he had said three lines before, viz., that in one certain sense, the necessary to be included and implied the possible to be; that is, a possibility or potentiality unilateral only, not bilateral; for we are here told that the celestial substance is Actuality without Possibility (or Potentiality), so that the unilateral sense of this last term is disallowed. On the other hand, a third sense of the same term is recognized and distinguished; a sense neither bilateral nor unilateral, but the negation of both. This third sense is hardly intelligible, giving as it does an impossible Possible; it seems a self-contradictory description.44 At best, it can only be understood as a limit in the mathematical sense; a terminus towards which potentiality may come constantly nearer and nearer, but which it can never reach. The first, or bilateral potentiality, is the only sense at once consistent, legitimate, and conformable to ordinary speech. Aristotle himself admits that the second and third are equivocal meanings,45 departing from the first as the legitimate meaning; but if equivocal departure to so great an extent were allowed, the term, put to such multifarious service, becomes unfit for accurate philosophical reasoning. And we find this illustrated by the contradiction into which Aristotle himself falls in the course of a few lines. The sentence of First Philosophy (which I translated in the last page) is a correction of the logical statement immediately preceding it, in so far as it suppresses the necessary Possible, or the unilateral potentiality. But on the other hand the same sentence introduces a new confusion by its third variety — the impossible Potential, departing from all clear and consistent meaning of potentiality, and coinciding only with the explanation of Non-Ens, as given by Aristotle elsewhere.46

The contrast of Actual and Potential stands so prominently forward in Aristotle’s First Philosophy, and is, when correctly understood, so valuable an element in First Philosophy generally, that we cannot be too careful against those misapplications of it into which he himself sometimes falls. The sense of Potentiality, as including the alternative of either affirmative or negative — may be or may not be — is quite essential in comprehending the ontological theories of Aristotle; and when he professes to drop the may not be and leave only the may be, this is not merely an equivocal sense of the word, but an entire renunciation of its genuine sense. In common parlance, indeed, we speak elliptically, and say, It may be, when we really mean, It may or may not be. But the last or negative half, though not expressly announced, is always included in the thought and belief of the speaker and understood by the hearer.47

Many logicians, and Sir William Hamilton very emphatically, have considered the Modality of propositions as improper to be included in the province of Logic, and have treated the proceeding of Aristotle in thus including it, as one among several cases in which he had transcended the legitimate boundaries of the science.48 This criticism, to which I cannot subscribe, is founded upon one peculiar view of the proper definition and limits of Logic. Sir W. Hamilton lays down the limitation peremptorily, and he is warranted in doing this for himself; but it is a question about which there has been great diversity of view among expositors, and he has no right to blame others who enlarge it. My purpose in the present volume is to explain how the subject presented itself to Aristotle. He was the first author that ever attempted to present Logic in a scientific aspect; and it is hardly fair to try him by restrictions emanating from critics much later. Yet, if he is to be tried upon this point, I think the latitude in which he indulges preferable to the restricted doctrine of Sir W. Hamilton.

In the treatise now before us (De Interpretatione) Aristotle announces his intention to explain the Proposition or Enunciative Speech, the conjunction of a noun and a verb; as distinguished, first, from its two constituents (noun and verb) separately taken; next, from other modes of speech, also combining the two (precative, interrogative, &c.). All speech (he says), the noun or verb separately, as well as the proposition conjointly, is, in the first instance, a sign of certain mental states common to the speaker with his hearers; and, in the second instance, a sign of certain things or facts, resembling (or correlating with) these mental states.49 The noun, pronounced separately, and the verb, pronounced separately, are each signs of a certain thought in the speaker’s mind, without either truth or falsehood; the Proposition, or conjunction of the two, goes farther and declares truth or falsehood. The words pronounced (he says) follow the thoughts in the mind, expressing an opinion (i.e. belief or disbelief) entertained in the mind; the verbal affirmation or negation gives utterance to a mental affirmation or negation — a feeling of belief or disbelief — that something is, or that something is not.50 Thus, Aristotle intends to give a theory of the Proposition, leaving other modes of speech to Rhetoric or Poetry:51 the Proposition he considers under two distinct aspects. In its first or subjective aspect, it declares the state of the speaker’s mind, as to belief or disbelief. In its second or objective aspect, it declares a truth or falsehood correlating with such belief or disbelief, for the information of the hearer. Now the Mode belonging to a proposition of this sort, in virtue of its form, is to be true or false. But there are also other propositions — other varieties of speech enunciative — which differ from the Simple or Assertory Proposition having the form is or is not, and which have distinct modes belonging to them, besides that of being true or false. Thus we have the Necessary Proposition, declaring that a thing is so by necessity, that it must be so, or cannot but be so; again, the Problematical Proposition, enunciating that a thing may or may not be so. These two modes attach to the form of the proposition, and are quite distinct from those which attach to its matter as simply affirmed or denied; as when, instead of saying, John is sick, we say, John is sick of a fever, John is dangerously sick, with a merely material modification. Such adverbs, modifying the matter affirmed or denied, are numerous, and may be diversified almost without limit. But they are not to be placed in the same category with the two just mentioned, which modify the form of the proposition, and correspond to a state of mind distinct from simple belief or disbelief, expressed by a simple affirmation or negation.52 In the case of each of the two, Aristotle has laid down rules (correct or incorrect) for constructing the legitimate Antiphasis, and for determining other propositions equipollent to, or following upon, the propositions given; rules distinct from those applying to the simple affirmation. When we say of anything, It may be or may not be, we enunciate here only one proposition, not two; we declare a state of mind which is neither belief nor disbelief, as in the case of the Simple Proposition, but something wavering between the two; yet which is nevertheless frequent, familiar to every one, and useful to be made known by a special form of proposition adapted to it — the Problematical. On the other hand, when we say, It is by necessity — must be — cannot but be — we declare our belief, and something more besides; we declare that the supposition of the opposite of what we believe, would involve a contradiction — I would contradict some definition or axiom to which we have already sworn adherence. This again is a state of mind known, distinguishable, and the same in all, subjectively; though as to the objective correlate — what constitutes the Necessary, several different opinions have been entertained.

In every complete theory of enunciative speech, these modal propositions deserve to be separately explained, both in their substantive meaning and in their relation to other propositions. Their characteristic property as Modals belongs to form rather than to matter; and Aristotle ought not to be considered as unphilosophical for introducing them into the Organon, even if we adopt the restricted view of Logic taken by Sir W. Hamilton, that it takes no cognizance of the matter of propositions, but only of their form. But though I dissent from Hamilton’s criticisms on this point, I do not concur with the opposing critics who think that Aristotle has handled the Modal Propositions in a satisfactory manner. On the contrary, I think that the equivocal sense which he assigns to the Potential or Possible, and his inconsistency in sometimes admitting, sometimes denying, a Potential that is always actual, and a Potential that is never actual — are serious impediments to any consistent Logic. The Problematical Proposition does not admit of being cut in half; and if we are to recognize a necessary Possible, or an impossible Possible, we ought to find different phrases by which to designate them.

We must observe that the distinction of Problematical and Necessary Propositions corresponds, in the mind of Aristotle, to that capital and characteristic doctrine of his Ontology and Physics, already touched on in this chapter. He thought, as we have seen, that in the vast circumferential region of the Kosmos, from the outer sidereal sphere down to the lunar sphere, celestial substance was a necessary existence and energy, sempiternal and uniform in its rotations and influence; and that through its beneficent influence, pervading the concavity between the lunar sphere and the terrestrial centre (which included the four elements with their compounds) there prevailed a regularizing tendency called Nature: modified, however, and partly counteracted by independent and irregular forces called Spontaneity and Chance, essentially unknowable and unpredictable. The irregular sequences thus named by Aristotle were the objective correlate of the Problematical Proposition in Logic. In these sublunary sequences, as to future time, may or may not was all that could be attained, even by the highest knowledge; certainty, either of affirmation or negation, was out of the question. On the other hand, the necessary and uniform energies of the celestial substance, formed the objective correlate of the Necessary Proposition in Logic; this substance was not merely an existence, but an existence necessary and unchangeable. I shall say more on this when I come to treat of Aristotle as a kosmical and physical philosopher; at present it is enough to remark that he considers the Problematical Proposition in Logic to be not purely subjective, as an expression of the speaker’s ignorance, but something more, namely, to correlate with an objective essentially unknowable to all.

The last paragraph of the treatise De Interpretatione discusses the question of Contraries and Contradictories, and makes out that the greatest breadth of opposition is that between a proposition and its contradictory (Kallias is just — Kallias is not just), not that between a proposition and what is called its contrary (Kallias is just — Kallias is unjust); therefore, that according to the definition of contrary, the true contrary of a proposition is its contradictory.53 This paragraph is not connected with that which precedes; moreover, both the reasoning and the conclusion differ from what we read as well in this treatise as in other portions of Aristotle. Accordingly, Ammonius in the Scholia, while informing us that Porphyry had declined to include it in his commentary, intimates also his own belief that it is not genuine, but the work of another hand. At best (Ammonius thinks), if we must consider it as the work of Aristotle, it has been composed by him only as a dialectical exercise, to debate an unsettled question.54 I think the latter hypothesis not improbable. The paragraph has certainly reference to discussions which we do not know, and it may have been composed when Aristotle had not fully made up his mind on the distinction between Contrary and Contradictory. Considering the difficult problems that he undertook to solve, we may be sure that he must have written down several trains of thought merely preliminary and tentative. Moreover, we know that he had composed a distinct treatise ‘De Oppositis,’55 which is unfortunately lost, but in which he must have included this very topic — the distinction between Contrary and Contradictory.

Whatever may have been the real origin and purpose of this last paragraph, I think it unsuitable as a portion of the treatise De Interpretatione. It nullifies, or at least overclouds, one of the best parts of that treatise, the clear determination of Anaphasis and its consequences.

If, now, we compare the theory of the Proposition as given by Aristotle in this treatise, with that which we read in the Sophistes of Plato, we shall find Plato already conceiving the proposition as composed indispensably of noun and verb, and as being either affirmative or negative, for both of which he indicates the technical terms.56 He has no technical term for either subject or predicate; but he conceives the proposition as belonging to its subject:57 we may be mistaken in the predicates, but we are not mistaken in the subject. Aristotle enlarges and improves upon this theory. He not only has a technical term for affirmation and negation, and for negative noun and verb, but also for subject and predicate; again, for the mode of signification belonging to noun and verb, each separately, as distinguished from the mode of signification belonging to them conjointly, when brought together in a proposition. He follows Plato in insisting upon the characteristic feature of the proposition — aptitude for being true or false; but he gives an ampler definition of it, and he introduces the novel and important distribution of propositions according to the quantity of the subject. Until this last distribution had been made, it was impossible to appreciate the true value and bearing of each Antiphasis and the correct language for expressing it, so as to say neither more nor less. We see, by reading the Sophistes, that Plato did not conceive the Antiphasis correctly, as distinguished from Contrariety on the one hand, and from mere Difference on the other. He saw that the negative of any proposition does not affirm the contrary of its affirmative; but he knew no other alternative except to say, that it affirms only something different from the affirmative. His theory in the Sophistes recognizes nothing but affirmative propositions, with the predicate of contrariety on one hand, or of difference on the other;58 he ignores, or jumps over, the intermediate station of propositions affirming nothing at all, but simply denying a pre-understood affirmative. There were other contemporaries, Antisthenes among them, who declared contradiction to be an impossibility;59 an opinion coinciding at bottom with what I have just cited from Plato himself. We see, in the Theætêtus, the Euthydêmus, the Sophistes, and elsewhere, how great was the difficulty felt by philosophers of that age to find a proper locus standi for false propositions, so as to prove them theoretically possible, to assign a legitimate function for the negative, and to escape from the interdict of Parmenides, who eliminated Non-Ens as unmeaning and incogitable. Even after the death of Aristotle, the acute disputation of Stilpon suggested many problems, but yielded few solutions; and Menedêmus went so far as to disallow negative propositions altogether.60

Such being the conditions under which philosophers debated in the age of Aristotle, we can appreciate the full value of a positive theory of propositions such as that which we read in his treatise De Interpretatione. It is, so far as we know, the first positive theory thereof that was ever set out; the first attempt to classify propositions in such a manner that a legitimate Antiphasis could be assigned to each; the first declaration that to each affirmative proposition there belonged one appropriate negative, and to each negative proposition one appropriate counter-affirmative, and one only; the earliest effort to construct a theory for this purpose, such as to hold ground against all the puzzling questions of acute disputants.61 The clear determination of the Antiphasis in each case — the distinction of Contradictory antithesis from Contrary antithesis between propositions — this was an important logical doctrine never advanced before Aristotle; and the importance of it becomes manifest when we read the arguments of Plato and Antisthenes, the former overleaping and ignoring the contradictory opposition, the latter maintaining that it was a process theoretically indefensible. But in order that these two modes of antithesis should be clearly contrasted, each with its proper characteristic, it was requisite that the distinction of quantity between different propositions should also be brought to view, and considered in conjunction with the distinction of quality. Until this was done, the Maxim of Contradiction, denied by some, could not be shown in its true force or with its proper limits. Now, we find it done,62 for the first time, in the treatise before us. Here the Contradictory antithesis (opposition both in quantity and quality) in which one proposition must be true and the other false, is contrasted with the Contrary (propositions opposite in quality, but both of them universal). Aristotle’s terminology is not in all respects fully developed; in regard, especially, to the quantity of propositions it is less advanced than in his own later treatises; but from the theory of the De Interpretatione all the distinctions current among later logicians, take their rise.

The distinction of Contradictory and Contrary is fundamental in ratiocinative Logic, and lies at the bottom of the syllogistic theory as delivered in the Analytica Priora. The precision with which Aristotle designates the Universal proposition with its exact contradictory antithesis, is remarkable in his day. Some, however, of his observations respecting the place and functions of the negative particle (οὐ), must be understood with reference to the variable order of words in a Greek or Latin sentence; for instance, the distinction between Kallias non est justus and Kallias est non justus does not suggest itself to one speaking English or French.63 Moreover, the Aristotelian theory of the Proposition is encumbered with various unnecessary subtleties; and the introduction of the Modals (though they belong, in my opinion, legitimately to a complete logical theory) renders the doctrine so intricate and complicated, that a judicious teacher will prefer, in explaining the subject, to leave them for second or ulterior study, when the simpler relations between categorical propositions have been made evident and familiar. The force of this remark will be felt more when we go through the Analytica Priora. The two principal relations to be considered in the theory of Propositions — Opposition and Equipollence — would have come out far more clearly in the treatise De Interpretatione, if the discussion of the Modals had been reserved for a separate chapter.

 

 

 

 

 

Reviewing the treatise De Interpretatione, we have followed Aristotle in his first attempt to define what a Proposition is, to point out its constituent elements, and to specify some of its leading varieties. The characteristic feature of the Proposition he stated to be — That it declares, in the first instance, the mental state of the speaker as to belief or disbelief, and, in its ulterior or final bearing, a state of facts to which such belief or disbelief corresponds. It is thus significant of truth or falsehood; and this is its logical character (belonging to Analytic and Dialectic), as distinguished from its rhetorical character, with other aspects besides. Aristotle farther indicated the two principal discriminative attributes of propositions as logically regarded, passing under the names of quantity and quality. He took great pains, in regard to the quality, to explain what was the special negative proposition in true contradictory antithesis to each affirmative. He stated and enforced the important separation of contradictory propositions from contrary; and he even parted off (which the Greek and Latin languages admit, though the French and English will hardly do so) the true negative from the indeterminate affirmative. He touched also upon equipollent propositions, though he did not go far into them. Thus commenced with Aristotle the systematic study of propositions, classified according to their meaning and their various interdependences with each other as to truth and falsehood — their mutual consistency or incompatibility. Men who had long been talking good Greek fluently and familiarly, were taught to reflect upon the conjunctions of words that they habitually employed, and to pay heed to the conditions of correct speech in reference to its primary purpose of affirmation and denial, for the interchange of beliefs and disbeliefs, the communication of truth, and the rectification of falsehood. To many of Aristotle’s contemporaries this first attempt to theorize upon the forms of locution familiar to every one would probably appear hardly less strange than the interrogative dialectic of Sokrates, when he declared himself not to know what was meant by justice, virtue, piety, temperance, government, &c.; when he astonished his hearers by asking them to rescue him from this state of ignorance, and to communicate to him some portion of their supposed plenitude of knowledge.

Aristotle tells us expressly that the theory of the Syllogism, both demonstrative and dialectic, on which we are now about to enter, was his own work altogether and from the beginning; that no one had ever attempted it before; that he therefore found no basis to work upon, but was obliged to elaborate his own theory, from the very rudiments, by long and laborious application. In this point of view, he contrasts Logic pointedly with Rhetoric, on which there had been a series of writers and teachers, each profiting by the labours of his predecessors.1 There is no reason to contest the claim to originality here advanced by Aristotle. He was the first who endeavoured, by careful study and multiplied comparison of propositions, to elicit general truths respecting their ratiocinative interdependence, and to found thereupon precepts for regulating the conduct of demonstration and dialectic.2

He begins the Analytica Priora by setting forth his general purpose, and defining his principal terms and phrases. His manner is one of geometrical plainness and strictness. It may perhaps have been common to him with various contemporary geometers, whose works are now lost; but it presents an entire novelty in Grecian philosophy and literature. It departed not merely from the manner of the rhetoricians and the physical philosophers (as far as we know them, not excluding even Demokritus), but also from Sokrates and the Sokratic school. For though Sokrates and Plato were perpetually calling for definitions, and did much to make others feel the want of such, they neither of them evinced aptitude or readiness to supply the want. The new manner of Aristotle is adapted to an undertaking which he himself describes as original, in which he has no predecessors, and is compelled to dig his own foundations. It is essentially didactic and expository, and contrasts strikingly with the mixture of dramatic liveliness and dialectical subtlety which we find in Plato.

The terminology of Aristotle in the Analytica is to a certain extent different from that in the treatise De Interpretatione. The Enunciation (Ἀπόφανις) appears under the new name of Πρότασις, Proposition (in the literal sense) or Premiss; while, instead of Noun and Verb, we have the word Term (Ὅρος), applied alike both to Subject and to Predicate.3 We pass now from the region of declared truth, into that of inferential or reasoned truth. We find the proposition looked at, not merely as communicating truth in itself, but as generating and helping to guarantee certain ulterior propositions, which communicate something additional or different. The primary purpose of the Analytica is announced to be, to treat of Demonstration and demonstrative Science; but the secondary purpose, running parallel with it and serving as illustrative counterpart, is, to treat also of Dialectic; both of them4 being applications of the inferential or ratiocinative process, the theory of which Aristotle intends to unfold.

The three treatises — 1, Analytica Priora, 2, Analytica Posteriora, 3, Topica with Sophistici Elenchi — thus belong all to one general scheme; to the theory of the Syllogism, with its distinct applications, first, to demonstrative or didactic science, and, next, to dialectical debate. The scheme is plainly announced at the commencement of the Analytica Priora; which treatise discusses the Syllogism generally, while the Analytica Posteriora deals with Demonstration, and the Topica with Dialectic. The first chapter of the Analytica Priora and the last chapter of the Sophistici Elenchi (closing the Topica), form a preface and a conclusion to the whole. The exposition of the Syllogism, Aristotle distinctly announces, precedes that of Demonstration (and for the same reason also precedes that of Dialectic), because it is more general: every demonstration is a sort of syllogism, but every syllogism is not a demonstration.5

As a foundation for the syllogistic theory, propositions are classified according to their quantity (more formally than in the treatise De Interpretatione) into Universal, Particular, and Indefinite or Indeterminate;6 Aristotle does not recognize the Singular Proposition as a distinct variety. In regard to the Universal Proposition, he introduces a different phraseology according as it is looked at from the side of the Subject, or from that of the Predicate. The Subject is, or is not, in the whole Predicate; the Predicate is affirmed or denied respecting all or every one of the Subject.7 The minor term of the Syllogism (in the first mode of the first figure) is declared to be in the whole middle term; the major is declared to belong to, or to be predicable of, all and every the middle term. Aristotle says that the two are the same; we ought rather to say that each is the concomitant and correlate of the other, though his phraseology is such as to obscure the correlation.

The definition given of a Syllogism is very clear and remarkable:— “It is a speech in which, some positions having been laid down, something different from these positions follows as a necessary consequence from their being laid down.” In a perfect Syllogism nothing additional is required to make the necessity of the consequence obvious as well as complete. But there are also imperfect Syllogisms, in which such necessity, though equally complete, is not so obviously conveyed in the premisses, but requires some change to be effected in the position of the terms in order to render it conspicuous.8

The term Syllogism has acquired, through the influence of Aristotle, a meaning so definite and technical, that we do not easily conceive it in any other meaning. But in Plato and other contemporaries it bears a much wider sense, being equivalent to reasoning generally, to the process of comparison, abstraction, generalization.9 It was Aristotle who consecrated the word, so as to mean exclusively the reasoning embodied in propositions of definite form and number. Having already analysed propositions separately taken, and discriminated them into various classes according to their constituent elements, he now proceeds to consider propositions in combination. Two propositions, if properly framed, will conduct to a third, different from themselves, but which will be necessarily true if they are true. Aristotle calls the three together a Syllogism.10 He undertakes to shew how it must be framed in order that its conclusion shall be necessarily true, if the premisses are true. He furnishes schemes whereby the cast and arrangement of premisses, proper for attaining truth, may be recognized; together with the nature of the conclusion, warrantable under each arrangement.

In the Analytica Priora, we find ourselves involved, from and after the second chapter, in the distinction of Modal propositions, the necessary and the possible. The rules respecting the simple Assertory propositions are thus, even from the beginning, given in conjunction and contrast with those respecting the Modals. This is one among many causes of the difficulty and obscurity with which the treatise is beset. Theophrastus and Eudemus seem also to have followed their master by giving prominence to the Modals:11 recent expositors avoid the difficulty, some by omitting them altogether, others by deferring them until the simple assertory propositions have been first made clear. I shall follow the example of these last; but it deserves to be kept in mind, as illustrating Aristotle’s point of view, that he regards the Modals as principal varieties of the proposition, co-ordinate in logical position with the simple assertory.

Before entering on combinations of propositions, Aristotle begins by shewing what can be done with single propositions, in view to the investigation or proving of truth. A single proposition may be converted; that is, its subject and predicate may be made to change places. If a proposition be true, will it be true when thus converted, or (in other words) will its converse be true? If false, will its converse be false? If this be not always the case, what are the conditions and limits under which (assuming the proposition to be true) the process of conversion leads to assured truth, in each variety of propositions, affirmative or negative, universal or particular? As far as we know, Aristotle was the first person that ever put to himself this question; though the answer to it is indispensable to any theory of the process of proving or disproving. He answers it before he enters upon the Syllogism.

The rules which he lays down on the subject have passed into all logical treatises. They are now familiar; and readers are apt to fancy that there never was any novelty in them — that every one knows them without being told. Such fancy would be illusory. These rules are very far from being self-evident, any more than the maxims of Contradiction and of the Excluded Middle. Not one of the rules could have been laid down with its proper limits, until the discrimination of propositions, both as to quality (affirmative or negative), and as to quantity (universal or particular), had been put prominently forward and appreciated in all its bearings. The rule for trustworthy conversion is different for each variety of propositions. The Universal Negative may be converted simply; that is, the predicate may become subject, and the subject may become predicate — the proposition being true after conversion, if it was true before. But the Universal Affirmative cannot be thus converted simply. It admits of conversion only in the manner called by logicians per accidens: if the predicate change places with the subject, we cannot be sure that the proposition thus changed will be true, unless the new subject be lowered in quantity from universal to particular; e.g. the proposition, All men are animals, has for its legitimate converse not, All animals are men, but only, Some animals are men. The Particular Affirmative may be converted simply: if it be true that Some animals are men, it will also be true that Some men are animals. But, lastly, if the true proposition to be converted be a Particular Negative, it cannot be converted at all, so as to make sure that the converse will be true also.12

Here then are four separate rules laid down, one for each variety of propositions. The rules for the second and third variety are proved by the rule for the first (the Universal Negative), which is thus the basis of all. But how does Aristotle prove the rule for the Universal Negative itself? He proceeds as follows: “If A cannot be predicated of any one among the B’s, neither can B be predicated of any one among the A’s. For if it could be predicated of any one among them (say C), the proposition that A cannot be predicated of any B would not be true; since C is one among the B’s.”13 Here we have a proof given which is no proof at all. If I disbelieved or doubted the proposition to be proved, I should equally disbelieve or doubt the proposition given to prove it. The proof only becomes valid, when you add a farther assumption which Aristotle has not distinctly enunciated, viz.: That if some A (e.g. C) is B, then some B must also be A; which would be contrary to the fundamental supposition. But this farther assumption cannot be granted here, because it would imply that we already know the rule respecting the convertibility of Particular Affirmatives, viz., that they admit of being converted simply. Now the rule about Particular Affirmatives is afterwards itself proved by help of the preceding demonstration respecting the Universal Negative. As the proof stands, therefore, Aristotle demonstrates each of these by means of the other; which is not admissible.14

Even the friends and companions of Aristotle were not satisfied with his manner of establishing this fundamental rule as to the conversion of propositions. Eudêmus is said to have given a different proof; and Theophrastus assumed as self-evident, without any proof, that the Universal Negative might always be converted simply.15 It appears to me that no other or better evidence of it can be offered, than the trial upon particular cases, that is to say, Induction.16 Nothing is gained by dividing (as Aristotle does) the whole A into parts, one of which is C; nor can I agree with Theophrastus in thinking that every learner would assent to it at first hearing, especially at a time when no universal maxims respecting the logical value of propositions had ever been proclaimed. Still less would a Megaric dialectician, if he had never heard the maxim before, be satisfied to stand upon an alleged à priori necessity without asking for evidence. Now there is no other evidence except by exemplifying the formula, No A is B, in separate propositions already known to the learner as true or false, and by challenging him to produce any one case, in which, when it is true to say No A is B, it is not equally true to say, No B is A; the universality of the maxim being liable to be overthrown by any one contradictory instance.17 If this proof does not convince him, no better can be produced. In a short time, doubtless, he will acquiesce in the general formula at first hearing, and he may even come to regard it as self-evident. It will recall to his memory an aggregate of separate cases each individually forgotten, summing up their united effect under the same aspect, and thus impressing upon him the general truth as if it were not only authoritative but self-authorized.

Aristotle passes next to Affirmatives, both Universal and Particular. First, if A can be predicated of all B, then B can be predicated of some A; for if B cannot be predicated of any A, then (by the rule for the Universal Negative) neither can A be predicated of any B. Again, if A can be predicated of some B, in this case also, and for the same reason, B can be predicated of some A.18 Here the rule for the Universal Negative, supposed already established, is applied legitimately to prove the rules for Affirmatives. But in the first case, that of the Universal, it fails to prove some in the sense of not-all or some-at-most, which is required; whereas, the rules for both cases can be proved by Induction, like the formula about the Universal Negative. When we come to the Particular Negative, Aristotle lays down the position, that it does not admit of being necessarily converted in any way. He gives no proof of this, beyond one single exemplification: If some animal is not a man, you are not thereby warranted in asserting the converse, that some man is not an animal.19 It is plain that such an exemplification is only an appeal to Induction: you produce one particular example, which is entering on the track of Induction; and one example alone is sufficient to establish the negative of an universal proposition.20 The converse of a Particular Negative is not in all cases true, though it may be true in many cases.

From one proposition taken singly, no new proposition can be inferred; for purposes of inference, two propositions at least are required.21 This brings us to the rules of the Syllogism, where two propositions as premisses conduct us to a third which necessarily follows from them; and we are introduced to the well-known three Figures with their various Modes.22 To form a valid Syllogism, there must be three terms and no more; the two, which appear as Subject and Predicate of the conclusion, are called the minor term (or minor extreme) and the major term (or major extreme) respectively; while the third or middle term must appear in each of the premisses, but not in the conclusion. These terms are called extremes and middle, from the position which they occupy in every perfect Syllogism — that is in what Aristotle ranks as the First among the three figures. In his way of enunciating the Syllogism, this middle position formed a conspicuous feature; whereas the modern arrangement disguises it, though the denomination middle term is still retained. Aristotle usually employs letters of the alphabet, which he was the first to select as abbreviations for exposition;23 and he has two ways (conforming to what he had said in the first chapter of the present treatise) of enunciating the modes of the First figure. In one way, he begins with the major extreme (Predicate of the conclusion): A may be predicated of all B, B may be predicated of all C; therefore, A may be predicated of all C (Universal Affirmative). Again, A cannot be predicated of any B, B can be predicated of all C; therefore, A cannot be predicated of any C (Universal Negative). In the other way, he begins with the minor term (Subject of the conclusion): C is in the whole B, B is in the whole A; therefore, C is in the whole A (Universal Affirmative). And, C is in the whole B, B is not in the whole A; therefore, C is not in the whole A (Universal Negative). We see thus that in Aristotle’s way of enunciating the First figure, the middle term is really placed between the two extremes,24 though this is not so in the Second and Third figures. In the modern way of enunciating these figures, the middle term is never placed between the two extremes; yet the denomination middle still remains.

The Modes of each figure are distinguished by the different character and relation of the two premisses, according as these are either affirmative or negative, either universal or particular. Accordingly, there are four possible varieties of each, and sixteen possible modes or varieties of combinations between the two. Aristotle goes through most of the sixteen modes, and shows that in the first Figure there are only four among them that are legitimate, carrying with them a necessary conclusion. He shows, farther, that in all the four there are two conditions observed, and that both these conditions are indispensable in the First figure:— (1) The major proposition must be universal, either affirmative or negative; (2) The minor proposition must be affirmative, either universal or particular or indefinite. Such must be the character of the premisses, in the first Figure, wherever the conclusion is valid and necessary; and vice versâ, the conclusion will be valid and necessary, when such is the character of the premisses.25

In regard to the four valid modes (Barbara, Celarent, Darii, Ferio, as we read in the scholastic Logic) Aristotle declares at once in general language that the conclusion follows necessarily; which he illustrates by setting down in alphabetical letters the skeleton of a syllogism in Barbara. If A is predicated of all B, and B of all C, A must necessarily be predicated of all C. But he does not justify it by any real example; he produces no special syllogism with real terms, and with a conclusion known beforehand to be true. He seems to think that the general doctrine will be accepted as evident without any such corroboration. He counts upon the learner’s memory and phantasy for supplying, out of the past discourse of common life, propositions conforming to the conditions in which the symbolical letters have been placed, and for not supplying any contradictory examples. This might suffice for a treatise; but we may reasonably believe that Aristotle, when teaching in his school, would superadd illustrative examples; for the doctrine was then novel, and he is not unmindful of the errors into which learners often fall spontaneously.26

When he deals with the remaining or invalid modes of the First figure, his manner of showing their invalidity is different, and in itself somewhat curious. “If (he says) the major term is affirmed of all the middle, while the middle is denied of all the minor, no necessary consequence follows from such being the fact, nor will there be any syllogism of the two extremes; for it is equally possible, either that the major term may be affirmed of all the minor, or that it may be denied of all the minor; so that no conclusion, either universal or particular, is necessary in all cases.”27 Examples of such double possibility are then exhibited: first, of three terms arranged in two propositions (A and E), in which, from the terms specially chosen, the major happens to be truly affirmable of all the minor; so that the third proposition is an universal Affirmative:—

Next, a second example is set out with new terms, in which the major happens not to be truly predicable of any of the minor; thus exhibiting as third proposition an universal Negative:—

Here we see that the full exposition of a syllogism is indicated with real terms common and familiar to every one; alphabetical symbols would not have sufficed, for the learner must himself recognize the one conclusion as true, the other as false. Hence we are taught that, after two premisses thus conditioned, if we venture to join together the major and minor so as to form a pretended conclusion, we may in some cases obtain a true proposition universally Affirmative, in other cases a true proposition universally Negative. Therefore (Aristotle argues) there is no one necessary conclusion, the same in all cases, derivable from such premisses; in other words, this mode of syllogism is invalid and proves nothing. He applies the like reasoning to all the other invalid modes of the first Figure; setting them aside in the same way, and producing examples wherein double and opposite conclusions (improperly so called), both true, are obtained in different cases from the like arrangement of premisses.

This mode of reasoning plainly depends upon an appeal to prior experience. The validity or invalidity of each mode of the First figure is tested by applying it to different particular cases, each of which is familiar and known to the learner aliunde; in one case, the conjunction of the major and minor terms in the third proposition makes an universal Affirmative which he knows to be true; in another case, the like conjunction makes an universal Negative, which he also knows to be true; so that there is no one necessary (i.e. no one uniform and trustworthy) conclusion derivable from such premisses.28 In other words, these modes of the First figure are not valid or available in form; the negation being sufficiently proved by one single undisputed example.

We are now introduced to the Second figure, in which each of the two premisses has the middle term as Predicate.29 To give a legitimate conclusion in this figure, one or other of the premisses must be negative, and the major premiss must be universal; moreover no affirmative conclusions can ever be obtained in it — none but negative conclusions, universal or particular. In this Second figure too, Aristotle recognizes four valid modes; setting aside the other possible modes as invalid30 (in the same way as he had done in the First figure), because the third proposition or conjunction of the major term with the minor, might in some cases be a true universal affirmative, in other cases a true universal negative. As to the third and fourth of the valid modes, he demonstrates them by assuming the contradictory of the conclusion, together with the major premiss, and then showing that these two premisses form a new syllogism, which leads to a conclusion contradicting the minor premiss. This method, called Reductio ad Impossibile, is here employed for the first time; and employed without being ushered in or defined, as if it were familiarly known.31

Lastly, we have the Third figure, wherein the middle term is the Subject in both premisses. Here one at least of the premisses must be universal, either affirmative or negative. But no universal conclusions can be obtained in this figure; all the conclusions are particular. Aristotle recognizes six legitimate modes; in all of which the conclusions are particular, four of them being affirmative, two negative. The other possible modes he sets aside as in the two preceding figures.32

But Aristotle assigns to the First figure a marked superiority as compared with the Second and Third. It is the only one that yields perfect syllogisms; those furnished by the other two are all imperfect. The cardinal principle of syllogistic proof, as he conceives it, is — That whatever can be affirmed or denied of a whole, can be affirmed or denied of any part thereof.33 The major proposition affirms or denies something universally respecting a certain whole; the minor proposition declares a certain part to be included in that whole. To this principle the four modes of the First figure manifestly and unmistakably conform, without any transformation of their premisses. But in the other figures such conformity does not obviously appear, and must be demonstrated by reducing their syllogisms to the First figure; either ostensively by exposition of a particular case, and conversion of the premisses, or by Reductio ad Impossibile. Aristotle, accordingly, claims authority for the Second and Third figures only so far as they can be reduced to the First.34 We must, however, observe that in this process of reduction no new evidence is taken in; the matter of evidence remains unchanged, and the form alone is altered, according to laws of logical conversion which Aristotle has already laid down and justified. Another ground of the superiority and perfection which he claims for the First figure, is, that it is the only one in which every variety of conclusion can be proved; and especially the only one in which the Universal Affirmative can be proved — the great aim of scientific research. Whereas, in the Second figure we can prove only negative conclusions, universal or particular; and in the Third figure only particular conclusions, affirmative or negative.35

Such are the main principles of syllogistic inference and rules for syllogistic reasoning, as laid down by Aristotle. During the mediæval period, they were allowed to ramify into endless subtle technicalities, and to absorb the attention of teachers and studious men, long after the time when other useful branches of science and literature were pressing for attention. Through such prolonged monopoly — which Aristotle, among the most encyclopedical of all writers, never thought of claiming for them — they have become so discredited, that it is difficult to call back attention to them as they stood in the Aristotelian age. We have to remind the reader, again, that though language was then used with great ability for rhetorical and dialectical purposes, there existed as yet hardly any systematic or scientific study of it in either of these branches. The scheme and the terminology of any such science were alike unknown, and Aristotle was obliged to construct it himself from the foundation. The rhetorical and dialectical teaching as then given (he tells us) was mere unscientific routine, prescribing specimens of art to be committed to memory: respecting syllogism (or the conditions of legitimate deductive inference) absolutely nothing had been said.36 Under these circumstances, his theory of names, notions, and propositions as employed for purposes of exposition and ratiocination, is a remarkable example of original inventive power. He had to work it out by patient and laborious research. No way was open to him except the diligent comparison and analysis of propositions. And though all students have now become familiar with the various classes of terms and propositions, together with their principal characteristics and relations, yet to frame and designate such classes for the first time without any precedent to follow, to determine for each the rules and conditions of logical convertibility, to put together the constituents of the Syllogism, with its graduation of Figures and difference of Modes, and with a selection, justified by reasons given, between the valid and the invalid modes — all this implies a high order of original systematizing genius, and must have required the most laborious and multiplied comparisons between propositions in detail.

The preceding abridgment of Aristotle’s exposition of the Syllogism applies only to propositions simply affirmative or simply negative. But Aristotle himself, as already remarked, complicates the exposition by putting the Modal propositions (Possible, Necessary) upon the same line as the above-mentioned Simple propositions. I have noticed, in dealing with the treatise De Interpretatione, the confusion that has arisen from thus elevating the Modals into a line of classification co-ordinate with propositions simply Assertory. In the Analytica, this confusion is still more sensibly felt, from the introduction of syllogisms in which one of the premisses is necessary, while the other is only possible. We may remark, however, that, in the Analytica, Aristotle is stricter in defining the Possible than he has been in the De Interpretatione; for he now disjoins the Possible altogether from the Necessary, making it equivalent to the Problematical (not merely may be, but may be or may not be).37 In the middle, too, of his diffuse exposition of the Modals, he inserts one important remark, respecting universal propositions generally, which belongs quite as much to the preceding exposition about propositions simply assertory. He observes that universal propositions have nothing to do with time, present, past, or future; but are to be understood in a sense absolute and unqualified.38

Having finished with the Modals, Aristotle proceeds to lay it down, that all demonstration must fall under one or other of the three figures just described; and therefore that all may be reduced ultimately to the two first modes of the First figure. You cannot proceed a step with two terms only and one proposition only. You must have two propositions including three terms; the middle term occupying the place assigned to it in one or other of the three figures.39 This is obviously true when you demonstrate by direct or ostensive syllogism; and it is no less true when you proceed by Reductio ad Impossibile. This last is one mode of syllogizing from an hypothesis or assumption:40 your conclusion being disputed, you prove it indirectly, by assuming its contradictory to be true, and constructing a new syllogism by means of that contradictory together with a second premiss admitted to be true; the conclusion of this new syllogism being a proposition obviously false or known beforehand to be false. Your demonstration must be conducted by a regular syllogism, as it is when you proceed directly and ostensively. The difference is, that the conclusion which you obtain is not that which you wish ultimately to arrive at, but something notoriously false. But as this false conclusion arises from your assumption or hypothesis that the contradictory of the conclusion originally disputed was true, you have indirectly made out your case that this contradictory must have been false, and therefore that the conclusion originally disputed was true. All this, however, has been demonstration by regular syllogism, but starting from an hypothesis assumed and admitted as one of the premisses.41

Aristotle here again enforces what he had before urged — that in every valid syllogism, one premiss at least must be affirmative, and one premiss at least must be universal. If the conclusion be universal, both premisses must be so likewise; if it be particular, one of the premisses may not be universal. But without one universal premiss at least, there can be no syllogistic proof. If you have a thesis to support, you cannot assume (or ask to be conceded to you) that very thesis, without committing petitio principii, (i.e. quæsiti or probandi); you must assume (or ask to have conceded to you) some universal proposition containing it and more besides; under which universal you may bring the subject of your thesis as a minor, and thus the premisses necessary for supporting it will be completed. Aristotle illustrates this by giving a demonstration that the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal; justifying every step in the reasoning by an appeal to some universal proposition.42

Again, every demonstration is effected by two propositions (an even number) and by three terms (an odd number); though the same proposition may perhaps be demonstrable by more than one pair of premisses, or through more than one middle term;43 that is, by two or more distinct syllogisms. If there be more than three terms and two propositions, either the syllogism will no longer be one but several; or there must be particulars introduced for the purpose of obtaining an universal by induction; or something will be included, superfluous and not essential to the demonstration, perhaps for the purpose of concealing from the respondent the real inference meant.44 In the case (afterwards called Sorites) where the ultimate conclusion is obtained through several mean terms in continuous series, the number of terms will always exceed by one the number of propositions; but the numbers may be odd or even, according to circumstances. As terms are added, the total of intermediate conclusions, if drawn out in form, will come to be far greater than that of the terms or propositions, multiplying as it will do in an increasing ratio to them.45

It will be seen clearly from the foregoing remarks that there is a great difference between one thesis and another as to facility of attack or defence in Dialectic. If the thesis be an Universal Affirmative proposition, it can be demonstrated only in the First figure, and only by one combination of premisses; while, on the other hand, it can be impugned either by an universal negative, which can be demonstrated both in the First and Second figures, or by a particular negative, which can be demonstrated in all the three figures. Hence an Universal Affirmative thesis is at once the hardest to defend and the easiest to oppugn: more so than either a Particular Affirmative, which can be proved both in the First and Third figures; or a Universal Negative, which can be proved either in First or Second.46 To the opponent, an universal thesis affords an easier victory than a particular thesis; in fact, speaking generally, his task is easier than that of the defendant.

In the Analytica Priora, Aristotle proceeds to tell us that he contemplates not only theory, but also practice and art. The reader must be taught, not merely to understand the principles of Syllogism, but likewise where he can find the matter for constructing syllogisms readily, and how he can obtain the principles of demonstration pertinent to each thesis propounded.47

A thesis being propounded in appropriate terms, with subject and predicate, how are you the propounder to seek out arguments for its defence? In the first place, Aristotle reverts to the distinction already laid down at the beginning of the Categoriæ.48 Individual things or persons are subjects only, never appearing as predicates — this is the lowest extremity of the logical scale: at the opposite extremity of the scale, there are the highest generalities, predicates only, and not subjects of any predication, though sometimes supposed to be such, as matters of dialectic discussion.49 Between the lowest and highest we have intermediate or graduate generalities, appearing sometimes as subjects, sometimes as predicates; and it is among these that the materials both of problems for debate, and of premisses for proof, are usually found.50

You must begin by putting down, along with the matter in hand itself, its definition and its propria; after that, its other predicates; next, those predicates which cannot belong to it; lastly, those other subjects, of which it may itself be predicated. You must classify its various predicates distinguishing the essential, the propria, and the accidental; also distinguishing the true and unquestionable, from the problematical and hypothetical.51 You must look out for those predicates which belong to it as subject universally, and not to certain portions of it only; since universal propositions are indispensable in syllogistic proof, and indefinite propositions can only be reckoned as particular. When a subject is included in some larger genus — as, for example, man in animal — you must not look for the affirmative or negative predicates which belong to animal universally (since all these will of course belong to man also) but for those which distinguish man from other animals; nor must you, in searching for those lower subjects of which man is the predicate, fix your attention on the higher genus animal; for animal will of course be predicable of all those of which man is predicable. You must collect what pertains to man specially, either as predicate or subject; nor merely that which pertains to him necessarily and universally, but also usually and in the majority of cases; for most of the problems debated belong to this latter class, and the worth of the conclusion will be co-ordinate with that of the premisses.52 Do not select predicates that are predicable53 both of the predicate and subject; for no valid affirmative conclusion can be obtained from them.

Thus, when the thesis to be maintained is an universal affirmative (e.g. A is predicable of all E), you will survey all the subjects to which A will apply as predicate, and all the predicates applying to E as subject. If these two lists coincide in any point, a middle term will be found for the construction of a good syllogism in the First figure. Let B represent the list of predicates belonging universally to A; D, the list of predicates which cannot belong to it; C, the list of subjects to which A pertains universally as predicate. Likewise, let F represent the list of predicates belonging universally to E; H, the list of predicates that cannot belong to E; G, the list of subjects to which E is applicable as predicate. If, under these suppositions, there is any coincidence between the list C and the list F, you can construct a syllogism (in Barbara, Fig. 1), demonstrating that A belongs to all E; since the predicate in F belongs to all E, and A universally to the subject in C. If the list C coincides in any point with the list G, you can prove that A belongs to some E, by a syllogism (in Darapti, Fig. 3). If, on the other hand, the list F coincides in any point with the list D, you can prove that A cannot belong to any E: for the predicate in D cannot belong to any A, and therefore (by converting simply the universal negative) A cannot belong as predicate to any D; but D coincides with F, and F belongs to all E; accordingly, a syllogism (in Celarent, Fig. 1) may be constructed, shewing that A cannot belong to any E. So also, if B coincides in any point with H, the same conclusion can be proved; for the predicate in B belongs to all A, but B coincides with H, which belongs to no E; whence you obtain a syllogism (in Camestres, Fig. 2), shewing that no A belongs to E.54 In collecting the predicates and subjects both of A and of E, the highest and most universal expression of them is to be preferred, as affording the largest grasp for the purpose of obtaining a suitable middle term.55 It will be seen (as has been declared already) that every syllogism obtained will have three terms and two propositions; and that it will be in one or other of the three figures above described.56

The way just pointed out is the only way towards obtaining a suitable middle term. If, for example, you find some predicate applicable both to A and E, this will not conduct you to a valid syllogism; you will only obtain a syllogism in the Second figure with two affirmative premisses, which will not warrant any conclusion. Or if you find some predicate which cannot belong either to A or to E, this again will only give you a syllogism in the Second figure with two negative premisses, which leads to nothing. So also, if you have a term of which A can be predicated, but which cannot be predicated of E, you derive from it only a syllogism in the First figure, with its minor negative; and this, too, is invalid. Lastly, if you have a subject, of which neither A nor E can be predicated, your syllogism constructed from these conditions will have both its premisses negative, and will therefore be worthless.57

In the survey prescribed, nothing is gained by looking out for predicates (of A and E) which are different or opposite: we must collect such as are identical, since our purpose is to obtain from them a suitable middle term, which must be the same in both premisses. It is true that if the list B (containing the predicates universally belonging to A) and the list F (containing the predicates universally belonging to E) are incompatible or contrary to each other, you will arrive at a syllogism proving that no A can belong to E. But this syllogism will proceed, not so much from the fact that B and F are incompatible, as from the other fact, distinct though correlative, that B will to a certain extent coincide with H (the list of predicates which cannot belong to E). The middle term and the syllogism constituted thereby, is derived from the coincidence between B and H, not from the opposition between B and F. Those who derive it from the latter, overlook or disregard the real source, and adopt a point of view merely incidental and irrelevant.58

The precept here delivered — That in order to obtain middle terms and good syllogisms, you must study and collect both the predicates and the subjects of the two terms of your thesis — Aristotle declares to be equally applicable to all demonstration, whether direct or by way of Reductio ad Impossibile. In both the process of demonstration is the same — involving two premisses, three terms, and one of the three a suitable middle term. The only difference is, that in the direct demonstration, both premisses are propounded as true, while in the Reductio ad Impossibile, one of the premisses is assumed as true though known to be false, and the conclusion also.59 In the other cases of hypothetical syllogism your attention must be directed, not to the original quæsitum, but to the condition annexed thereto; yet the search for predicates, subjects, and a middle term, must be conducted in the same manner.60 Sometimes, by the help of a condition extraneous to the premisses, you may demonstrate an universal from a particular: e.g., Suppose C (the list of subjects to which A belongs as predicate) and G (the list of subjects to which E belongs as predicate) to be identical; and suppose farther that the subjects in G are the only ones to which E belongs as predicate (this seems to be the extraneous or extra-syllogistic condition assumed, on which Aristotle’s argument turns); then, A will be applicable to all E. Or if D (the list of predicates which cannot belong to A) and G (the list of subjects to which E belongs as predicate) are identical; then, assuming the like extraneous condition, A will not be applicable to any E.61 In both these cases, the conclusion is more universal than the premisses; but it is because we take in an hypothetical assumption, in addition to the premisses.

Aristotle has now shown a method of procedure common to all investigations and proper for the solution of all problems, wherever soluble. He has shown, first, all the conditions and varieties of probative Syllogism, two premisses and three terms, with the place required for the middle term in each of the three figures; next, the quarter in which we are to look for all the materials necessary or suitable for constructing valid syllogisms. Having the two terms of the thesis given, we must study the predicates and subjects belonging to both, and must provide a large list of them; out of which list we must make selection according to the purpose of the moment. Our selection will be different, according as we wish to prove or to refute, and according as the conclusion that we wish to prove is an universal or a particular. The lesson here given will be most useful in teaching the reasoner to confine his attention to the sort of materials really promising, so that he may avoid wasting his time upon such as are irrelevant.62

This method of procedure is alike applicable to demonstration in Philosophy or in any of the special sciences,63 and to debate in Dialectic. In both, the premisses or principia of syllogisms must be put together in the same manner, in order to make the syllogism valid. In both, too, the range of topics falling under examination is large and varied; each topic will have its own separate premisses or principia, which must be searched out and selected in the way above described. Experience alone can furnish these principia, in each separate branch or department. Astronomical experience — the observed facts and phenomena of astronomy — have furnished the data for the scientific and demonstrative treatment of astronomy. The like with every other branch of science or art.64 When the facts in each branch are brought together, it will be the province of the logician or analytical philosopher to set out the demonstrations in a manner clear and fit for use. For if nothing in the way of true matter of fact has been omitted from our observation, we shall be able to discover and unfold the demonstration, on every point where demonstration is possible; and, wherever it is not possible, to make the impossibility manifest.65

For the fuller development of these important principles, the reader is referred to the treatise on Dialectic, entitled Topica, which we shall come to in a future chapter. There is nothing in all Aristotle’s writings more remarkable than the testimony here afforded, how completely he considered all the generalities of demonstrative science and deductive reasoning to rest altogether on experience and inductive observation.

We are next introduced to a comparison between the syllogistic method, as above described and systematized, and the process called logical Division into genera and species; a process much relied upon by other philosophers, and especially by Plato. This logical Division, according to Aristotle, is a mere fragment of the syllogistic procedure; nothing better than a feeble syllogism.66 Those who employed it were ignorant both of Syllogism and of its conditions. They tried to demonstrate — what never can be demonstrated — the essential constitution of the subject.67 Instead of selecting a middle term, as the Syllogism requires, more universal than the subject but less universal (or not more so) than the predicate, they inverted the proper order, and took for their middle term the highest universal. What really requires to be demonstrated, they never demonstrated but assume.68

Thus, they take the subject man, and propose to prove that man is mortal. They begin by laying down that man is an animal, and that every animal is either mortal or immortal. Here, the most universal term, animal, is selected as middle or as medium of proof; while after all, the conclusion demonstrated is, not that man is mortal, but that man is either mortal or immortal. The position that man is mortal, is assumed but not proved.69 Moreover, by this method of logical division, all the steps are affirmative and none negative; there cannot be any refutation of error. Nor can any proof be given thus respecting genus, or proprium, or accidens; the genus is assumed, and the method proceeds from thence to species and differentia. No doubtful matter can be settled, and no unknown point elucidated by this method; nothing can be done except to arrange in a certain order what is already ascertained and unquestionable. To many investigations, accordingly, the method is altogether inapplicable; while even where it is applicable, it leads to no useful conclusion.70

We now come to that which Aristotle indicates as the third section of this First Book of the Analytica Priora. In the first section he explained the construction and constituents of Syllogism, the varieties of figure and mode, and the conditions indispensable to a valid conclusion. In the second section he tells us where we are to look for the premisses of syllogisms, and how we may obtain a stock of materials, apt and ready for use when required. There remains one more task to complete his plan — that he should teach the manner of reducing argumentation as it actually occurs (often invalid, and even when valid, often elliptical and disorderly), to the figures of syllogism as above set forth, for the purpose of testing its validity.71 In performing this third part (Aristotle says) we shall at the same time confirm and illustrate the two preceding parts; for truth ought in every way to be consistent with itself.72

When a piece of reasoning is before us, we must first try to disengage the two syllogistic premisses (which are more easily disengaged than the three terms), and note which of them is universal or particular. The reasoner, however, may not have set out both of them clearly: sometimes he will leave out the major, sometimes the minor, and sometimes, even when enunciating both of them, he will join with them irrelevant matter. In either of these cases we must ourselves supply what is wanting and strike out the irrelevant. Without this aid, reduction to regular syllogism is impracticable; but it is not always easy to see what the exact deficiency is. Sometimes indeed the conclusion may follow necessarily from what is implied in the premisses, while yet the premisses themselves do not form a correct syllogism; for though every such syllogism carries with it necessity, there may be necessity without a syllogism. In the process of reduction, we must first disengage and set down the two premisses, then the three terms; out of which three, that one which appears twice will be the middle term. If we do not find one term twice repeated, we have got no middle and no real syllogism. Whether the syllogism when obtained will be in the first, second, or third figure, will depend upon the place of the middle term in the two premisses. We know by the nature of the conclusion which of the three figures to look for, since we have already seen what conclusions can be demonstrated in each.73

Sometimes we may get premisses which look like those of a true syllogism, but are not so in reality; the major proposition ought to be an universal, but it may happen to be only indefinite, and the syllogism will not in all cases be valid; yet the distinction between the two often passes unnoticed.74 Another source of fallacy is, that we may set out the terms incorrectly; by putting (in modern phrase) the abstract instead of the concrete, or abstract in one premiss and concrete in the other.75 To guard against this, we ought to use the concrete term in preference to the abstract. For example, let the major proposition be, Health cannot belong to any disease; and the minor. Disease can belong to any man; Ergo, Health cannot belong to any man. This conclusion seems valid, but is not really so. We ought to substitute concrete terms to this effect:— It is impossible that the sick can be well; Any man may be sick; Ergo, It is impossible that any man can be well. To the syllogism, now, as stated in these concrete terms, we may object, that the major is not true. A person who is at the present moment sick may at a future time become well. There is therefore no valid syllogism.76 When we take the concrete man, we may say with truth that the two contraries, health-sickness, knowledge-ignorance, may both alike belong to him; though not to the same individual at the same time.

Again, we must not suppose that we can always find one distinct and separate name belonging to each term. Sometimes one or all of the three terms can only be expressed by an entire phrase or proposition. In such cases it is very difficult to reduce the reasoning into regular syllogism. We may even be deceived into fancying that there are syllogisms without any middle term at all, because there is no single word to express it. For example, let A represent equal to two right angles; B, triangle; C, isosceles. Then we have a regular syllogism, with an explicit and single-worded middle term; A belongs first to B, and then to C through B as middle term (triangle). But how do we know that A belongs to B? We know it by demonstration; for it is a demonstrable truth that every triangle has its three angles equal to two right angles. Yet there is no other more general truth about triangles from which it is a deduction; it belongs to the triangle per se, and follows from the fundamental properties of the figure.77 There is, however, a middle term in the demonstration, though it is not single-worded and explicit; it is a declaratory proposition or a fact. We must not suppose that there can be any demonstration without a middle term, either single-worded or many-worded.

When we are reducing any reasoning to a syllogistic form, and tracing out the three terms of which it is composed, we must expose or set out these terms in the nominative case; but when we actually construct the syllogism or put the terms into propositions, we shall find that one or other of the oblique cases, genitive, dative, &c., is required.78 Moreover, when we say, ‘this belongs to that,’ or ‘this may be truly predicated of that,’ we must recollect that there are many distinct varieties in the relation of predicate to subject. Each of the Categories has its own distinct relation to the subject; predication secundum quid is distinguished from predication simpliciter, simple from combined or compound, &c. This applies to negatives as well as affirmatives.79 There will be a material difference in setting out the terms of the syllogism, according as the predication is qualified (secundum quid) or absolute (simpliciter). If it be qualified, the qualification attaches to the predicate, not to the subject: when the major proposition is a qualified predication, we must consider the qualification as belonging, not to the middle term, but to the major term, and as destined to re-appear in the conclusion. If the qualification be attached to the middle term, it cannot appear in the conclusion, and any conclusion that embraces it will not be proved. Suppose the conclusion to be proved is. The wholesome is knowledge quatenus bonum or quod bonum est; the three terms of the syllogism must stand thus:—

Major — Bonum is knowable, quatenus bonum or quod bonum est.

Minor — The wholesome is bonum.

Ergo — The wholesome is knowable, quatenus bonum, &c.

For every syllogism in which the conclusion is qualified, the terms must be set out accordingly.80

We are permitted, and it is often convenient, to exchange one phrase or term for another of equivalent signification, and also one word against any equivalent phrase. By doing this, we often facilitate the setting out of the terms. We must carefully note the different meanings of the same substantive noun, according as the definite article is or is not prefixed. We must not reckon it the same term, if it appears in one premiss with the definite article, and in the other without the definite article.81 Nor is it the same proposition to say B is predicable of C (indefinite), and B is predicable of all C (universal). In setting out the syllogism, it is not sufficient that the major premiss should be indefinite; the major premiss must be universal; and the minor premiss also, if the conclusion is to be universal. If the major premiss be universal, while the minor premiss is only affirmative indefinite, the conclusion cannot be universal, but will be no more than indefinite, that is, counting as particular.82

There is no fear of our being misled by setting out a particular case for the purpose of the general demonstration; for we never make reference to the specialties of the particular case, but deal with it as the geometer deals with the diagram that he draws. He calls the line A B, straight, a foot long, and without breadth, but he does not draw any conclusion from these assumptions. All that syllogistic demonstration either requires or employs, is, terms that are related to each other either as whole to part or as part to whole. Without this, no demonstration can be made: the exposition of the particular case is intended as an appeal to the senses, for facilitating the march of the student, but is not essential to demonstration.83

Aristotle reminds us once more of what he had before said, that in the Second and Third figures, not all varieties of conclusion are possible, but only some varieties; accordingly, when we are reducing a piece of reasoning to the syllogistic form, the nature of the conclusion will inform us which of the three figures we must look for. In the case where the question debated relates to a definition, and the reasoning which we are trying to reduce turns upon one part only of that definition, we must take care to look for our three terms only in regard to that particular part, and not in regard to the whole definition.84 All the modes of the Second and Third figures can be reduced to the First, by conversion of one or other of the premisses; except the fourth mode (Baroco) of the Second, and the fifth mode (Bocardo) of the Third, which can be proved only by Reductio ad Absurdum.85

No syllogisms from an Hypothesis, however, are reducible to any of the three figures; for they are not proved by syllogism alone: they require besides an extra-syllogistic assumption granted or understood between speaker and hearer. Suppose an hypothetical proposition given, with antecedent and consequent: you may perhaps prove or refute by syllogism either the antecedent separately, or the consequent separately, or both of them separately; but you cannot directly either prove or refute by syllogism the conjunction of the two asserted in the hypothetical. The speaker must ascertain beforehand that this will be granted to him; otherwise he cannot proceed.86 The same is true about the procedure by Reductio ad Absurdum, which involves an hypothesis over and above the syllogism. In employing such Reductio ad Absurdum, you prove syllogistically a certain conclusion from certain premisses; but the conclusion is manifestly false; therefore, one at least of the premisses from which it follows must be false also. But if this reasoning is to have force, the hearer must know aliunde that the conclusion is false; your syllogism has not shown it to be false, but has shown it to be hypothetically true; and unless the hearer is prepared to grant the conclusion to be false, your purpose is not attained. Sometimes he will grant it without being expressly asked, when the falsity is glaring: e.g. you prove that the diagonal of a square is incommensurable with the side, because if it were taken as commensurable, an odd number might be shown to be equal to an even number. Few disputants will hesitate to grant that this conclusion is false, and therefore that its contradictory is true; yet this last (viz. that the contradictory is true) has not been proved syllogistically; you must assume it by hypothesis, or depend upon the hearer to grant it.87

Here Aristotle expressly reserves for separate treatment the general subject of Syllogisms from Hypothesis.88

In the last chapter of the first book of the Analytica Priora, Aristotle returns to the point which we have already considered in the treatise De Interpretatione, viz. what is really a negative proposition; and how the adverb of negation must be placed in order to constitute one. We must place this adverb immediately before the copula and in conjunction with the copula: we must not place it after the copula and in conjunction with the predicate; for, if we do so, the proposition resulting will not be negative but affirmative (ἐκ μεταθέσεως, by transposition, according to the technical term introduced afterwards by Theophrastus). Thus of the four propositions:

No. 1 is affirmative; No. 3 is affirmative (ἐκ μεταθέσεως); Nos. 2 and 4 are negative. Wherever No. 1 is predicable, No. 4 will be predicable also; wherever No. 3 is predicable, No. 2 will be predicable also — but in neither case vice versâ.89 Mistakes often flow from incorrectly setting out the two contradictories.

 

 

 

 

The Second Book of the Analytica Priora seems conceived with a view mainly to Dialectic and Sophistic, as the First Book bore more upon Demonstration.1 Aristotle begins the Second Book by shortly recapitulating what he had stated in the First; and then proceeds to touch upon some other properties of the Syllogism. Universal syllogisms (those in which the conclusion is universal) he says, have always more conclusions than one; particular syllogisms sometimes, but not always, have more conclusions than one. If the conclusion be universal, it may always be converted — simply, when it is negative, or per accidens, when it is affirmative; and its converse thus obtained will be proved by the same premisses. If the conclusion be particular, it will be convertible simply when affirmative, and its converse thus obtained will be proved by the same premisses; but it will not be convertible at all when negative, so that the conclusion proved will be only itself singly.2 Moreover, in the universal syllogisms of the First figure (Barbara, Celarent), any of the particulars comprehended under the minor term may be substituted in place of the minor term as subject of the conclusion, and the proof will hold good in regard to them. So, again, all or any of the particulars comprehended in the middle term may be introduced as subject of the conclusion in place of the minor term; and the conclusion will still remain true. In the Second figure, the change is admissible only in regard to those particulars comprehended under the subject of the conclusion or minor term, and not (at least upon the strength of the syllogism) in regard to those comprehended under the middle term. Finally, wherever the conclusion is particular, the change is admissible, though not by reason of the syllogism in regard to particulars comprehended under the middle term; it is not admissible as regards the minor term, which is itself particular.3

Aristotle has hitherto regarded the Syllogism with a view to its formal characteristics: he now makes an important observation which bears upon its matter. Formally speaking, the two premisses are always assumed to be true; but in any real case of syllogism (form and matter combined) it is possible that either one or both may be false. Now, Aristotle remarks that if both the premisses are true (the syllogism being correct in form), the conclusion must of necessity be true; but that if either or both the premisses are false, the conclusion need not necessarily be false likewise. The premisses being false, the conclusion may nevertheless be true; but it will not be true because of or by reason of the premisses.4

First, he would prove that if the premisses be true, the conclusion must be true also; but the proof that he gives does not seem more evident than the probandum itself. Assume that if A exists, B must exist also: it follows from hence (he argues) that if B does not exist, neither can A exist; which he announces as a reductio ad absurdum, seeing that it contradicts the fundamental supposition of the existence of A.5 Here the probans is indeed equally evident with the probandum, but not at all more evident; one who disputes the latter, will dispute the former also. Nothing is gained in the way of proof by making either of them dependent on the other. Both of them are alike self-evident; that is, if a man hesitates to admit either of them, you have no means of removing his scruples except by inviting him to try the general maxim upon as many particular cases as he chooses, and to see whether it does not hold good without a single exception.

In regard to the case here put forward as illustration, Aristotle has an observation which shows his anxiety to maintain the characteristic principles of the Syllogism; one of which principles he had declared to be — That nothing less than three terms and two propositions, could warrant the inferential step from premisses to conclusion. In the present case he assumed, If A exists, then B must exist; giving only one premiss as ground for the inference. This (he adds) does not contravene what has been laid down before; for A in the case before us represents two propositions conceived in conjunction.6 Here he has given the type of hypothetical reasoning; not recognizing it as a variety per se, nor following it out into its different forms (as his successors did after him), but resolving it into the categorical syllogism.7 He however conveys very clearly the cardinal principle of all hypothetical inference — That if the antecedent be true, the consequent must be true also, but not vice versâ; if the consequent be false, the antecedent must be false also, but not vice versâ.

Having laid down the principle, that the conclusion may be true, though one or both the premisses are false, Aristotle proceeds, at great length, to illustrate it in its application to each of the three syllogistic figures.8 No portion of the Analytica is traced out more perspicuously than the exposition of this most important logical doctrine.

It is possible (he then continues, again at considerable length) to invert the syllogism and to demonstrate in a circle. That is, you may take the conclusion as premiss for a new syllogism, together with one of the old premisses, transposing its terms; and thus you may demonstrate the other premiss. You may do this successively, first with the major, to demonstrate the minor; next, with the minor, to demonstrate the major. Each of the premisses will thus in turn be made a demonstrated conclusion; and the circle will be complete. But this can be done perfectly only in Barbara, and when, besides, all the three terms of the syllogism reciprocate with each other, or are co-extensive in import; so that each of the two premisses admits of being simply converted. In all other cases, the process of circular demonstration, where possible at all, is more or less imperfect.9

Having thus shown under what conditions the conclusion can be employed for the demonstration of the premisses, Aristotle proceeds to state by what transformation it can be employed for the refutation of them. This he calls converting the syllogism; a most inconvenient use of the term convert (ἀντιστρέφειν), since he had already assigned to that same term more than one other meaning, distinct and different, in logical procedure.10 What it here means is reversing the conclusion, so as to exchange it either for its contrary, or for its contradictory; then employing this reversed proposition as a new premiss, along with one of the previous premisses, so as to disprove the other of the previous premisses — i.e. to prove its contrary or contradictory. The result will here be different, according to the manner in which the conclusion is reversed; according as you exchange it for its contrary or its contradictory. Suppose that the syllogism demonstrated is: A belongs to all B, B belongs to all C; Ergo, A belongs to all C (Barbara). Now, if we reverse this conclusion by taking its contrary, A belongs to no C, and if we combine this as a new premiss with the major of the former syllogism, A belongs to all B, we shall obtain as a conclusion B belongs to no C; which is the contrary of the minor, in the form Camestres. If, on the other hand, we reverse the conclusion by taking its contradictory, A does not belong to all C, and combine this with the same major, we shall have as conclusion, B does not belong to all C; which is the contradictory of the minor, and in the form Baroco: though in the one case as in the other the minor is disproved. The major is contradictorily disproved, whether it be the contrary or the contradictory of the conclusion that is taken along with the minor to form the new syllogism; but still the form varies from Felapton to Bocardo. Aristotle shows farther how the same process applies to the other modes of the First, and to the modes of the Second and Third figures.11 The new syllogism, obtained by this process of reversal, is always in a different figure from the syllogism reversed. Thus syllogisms in the First figure are reversed by the Second and Third; those in the second, by the First and Third; those in the Third, by the First and Second.12

Of this reversing process, one variety is what is called the Reductio ad Absurdum; in which the conclusion is reversed by taking its contradictory (never its contrary), and then joining this last with one of the premisses, in order to prove the contradictory or contrary of the other premiss.13 The Reductio ad Absurdum is distinguished from the other modes of reversal by these characteristics: (1) That it takes the contradictory, and not the contrary, of the conclusion; (2) That it is destined to meet the case where an opponent declines to admit the conclusion; whereas the other cases of reversion are only intended as confirmatory evidence towards a person who already admits the conclusion; (3) That it does not appeal to or require any concession on the part of the opponent; for if he declines to admit the conclusion, you presume, as a matter of course, that he must adhere to the contradictory of the conclusion; and you therefore take this contradictory for granted (without asking his concurrence) as one of the bases of a new syllogism; (4) That it presumes as follows:— When, by the contradictory of the conclusion joined with one of the premisses, you have demonstrated the opposite of the other premiss, the original conclusion itself is shown to be beyond all impeachment on the score of form, i.e. beyond impeachment by any one who admits the premisses. You assume to be true, for the occasion, the very proposition which you mean finally to prove false; your purpose in the new syllogism is, not to demonstrate the original conclusion, but to prove it to be true by demonstrating its contradictory to be false.14

By the Reductio ad Absurdum you can in all the three figures demonstrate all the four varieties of conclusion, universal and particular, affirmative and negative; with the single exception, that you cannot by this method demonstrate in the First figure the Universal Affirmative.15 With this exception, every true conclusion admits of being demonstrated by either of the two ways, either directly and ostensively, or by reduction to the impossible.16

In the Second and Third figures, though not in the First, it is possible to obtain conclusions even from two premisses which are contradictory or contrary to each other; but the conclusion will, as a matter of course, be a self-contradictory one. Thus if in the Second figure you have the two premisses — All Science is good; No Science is good — you get the conclusion (in Camestres), No Science is Science. In opposed propositions, the same predicate must be affirmed and denied of the same subject in one of the three different forms — All and None, All and Not All, Some and None. This shows why such conclusions cannot be obtained in the First figure; for it is the characteristic of that figure that the middle term must be predicate in one premiss, and subject in the other.17 In dialectic discussion it will hardly be possible to get contrary or contradictory premisses conceded by the adversary immediately after each other, because he will be sure to perceive the contradiction: you must mask your purpose by asking the two questions not in immediate succession, but by introducing other questions between the two, or by other indirect means as suggested in the Topica.18

Aristotle now passes to certain general heads of Fallacy, or general liabilities to Error, with which the syllogizing process is beset. What the reasoner undertakes is, to demonstrate the conclusion before him, and to demonstrate it in the natural and appropriate way; that is, from premisses both more evident in themselves and logically prior to the conclusion. Whenever he fails thus to demonstrate, there is error of some kind; but he may err in several ways: (1) He may produce a defective or informal syllogism; (2) His premisses may be more unknowable than his conclusion, or equally unknowable; (3) His premisses, instead of being logically prior to the conclusion, may be logically posterior to it.19

Distinct from all these three, however, Aristotle singles out and dwells upon another mode of error, which he calls Petitio Principii. Some truths, the principia, are by nature knowable through or in themselves, others are knowable only through other things. If you confound this distinction, and ask or assume something of the latter class as if it belonged to the former, you commit a Petitio Principii. You may commit it either by assuming at once that which ought to be demonstrated, or by assuming, as if it were a principium, something else among those matters which in natural propriety would be demonstrated by means of a principium. Thus, there is (let us suppose) a natural propriety that C shall be demonstrated through A; but you, overlooking this, demonstrate B through C, and A through B. By thus inverting the legitimate order, you do what is tantamount to demonstrating A through itself; for your demonstration will not hold unless you assume A at the beginning, in order to arrive at C. This is a mistake made not unfrequently, and especially by some who define parallel lines; for they give a definition which cannot be understood unless parallel lines be presupposed.20

When the problem is such, that it is uncertain whether A can be predicated either of C or of B, if you then assume that A is predicable of B, you may perhaps not commit Petitio Principii, but you certainly fail in demonstrating the problem; for no demonstration will hold where the premiss is equally uncertain with the conclusion. But if, besides, the case be such, that B is identical with C, that is, either co-extensive and reciprocally convertible with C, or related to C as genus or species, — in either of these cases you commit Petitio Principii by assuming that A may be predicated of B.21 For seeing that B reciprocates with C, you might just as well demonstrate that A is predicable of B, because it is predicable of C; that is, you might demonstrate the major premiss by means of the minor and the conclusion, as well as you can demonstrate the conclusion by means of the major and the minor premiss. If you cannot so demonstrate the major premiss, this is not because the structure of the syllogism forbids it, but because the predicate of the major premiss is more extensive than the subject thereof. If it be co-extensive and convertible with the subject, we shall have a circular proof of three propositions in which each may be alternately premiss and conclusion. The like will be the case, if the Petitio Principii is in the minor premiss and not in the major. In the First syllogistic figure it may be in either of the premisses; in the Second figure it can only be in the minor premiss, and that only in one mode (Camestres) of the figure.22 The essence of Petitio Principii consists in this, that you exhibit as true per se that which is not really true per se.23 You may commit this fault either in Demonstration, when you assume for true what is not really true, or in Dialectic, when you assume as probable and conformable to authoritative opinion what is not really so.24

We must be careful to note, that when Aristotle speaks of a principium as knowable in itself, or true in itself, he does not mean that it is innate, or that it starts up in the mind ready made without any gradual building up or preparation. What he means is, that it is not demonstrable deductively from anything else prior or more knowable by nature than itself. He declares (as we shall see) that principia are acquired, and mainly by Induction.

Next to Petitio Principii, Aristotle indicates another fallacious or erroneous procedure in dialectic debate; misconception or misstatement of the real grounds on which a conclusion rests — Non per Hoc. You may impugn the thesis (set up by the respondent) directly, by proving syllogistically its contrary or contradictory; or you may also impugn it indirectly by Reductio ad Absurdum; i.e. you prove by syllogism some absurd conclusion, which you contend to be necessarily true, if the thesis is admitted. Suppose you impugn it in the first method, or directly, by a syllogism containing only two premisses and a conclusion: Non per Hoc is inapplicable here, for if either premiss is disallowed, the conclusion is unproved; the respondent cannot meet you except by questioning one or both of the premisses of your impugning syllogism.25 But if you proceed by the second method or indirectly, Non per Hoc may become applicable; for there may then be more than two premisses, and he may, while granting that the absurd conclusion is correctly made out, contend that the truth or falsehood of his thesis is noway implicated in it. He declares (in Aristotle’s phrase) that the absurdity or falsehood just made out does not follow as a consequence from his thesis, but from other premisses independent thereof; that it would stand equally proved, even though his thesis were withdrawn.26 In establishing the falsehood or absurdity you must take care that it shall be one implicated with or dependent upon his thesis. It is this last condition that he (the respondent) affirms to be wanting.27

Aristotle tells us that this was a precaution which the defender of a thesis was obliged often to employ in dialectic debate, in order to guard against abuse or misapplication of Reductio ad Absurdum on the part of opponents, who (it appears) sometimes took credit for success, when they had introduced and demonstrated some absurd conclusion that had little or no connection with the thesis.28 But even when the absurd conclusion is connected with the thesis continuously, by a series of propositions each having a common term with the preceding, in either the ascending or the descending scale, we have here more than three propositions, and the absurd conclusion may perhaps be proved by the other premisses, without involving the thesis. In this case the respondent will meet you with Non per Hoc:29 he will point out that his thesis is not one of the premisses requisite for demonstrating your conclusion, and is therefore not overthrown by the absurdity thereof. Perhaps the thesis may be false, but you have not shown it to be so, since it is not among the premisses necessary for proving your absurdum. An absurdum may sometimes admit of being demonstrated by several lines of premisses,30 each involving distinct falsehood. Every false conclusion implies falsity in one or more syllogistic or prosyllogistic premisses that have preceded it, and is owing to or occasioned by this first falsehood.31

In impugning the thesis and in extracting from your opponent the proper concessions to enable you to do so, you will take care to put the interrogations in such form and order as will best disguise the final conclusion which you aim at establishing. If you intend to arrive at it through preliminary syllogisms (prosyllogisms), you will ask assent to the necessary premisses in a confused or inverted order, and will refrain from enunciating at once the conclusion from any of them. Suppose that you wish to end by showing that A may be predicated of F, and suppose that there must be intervening steps through B, C, D, E. You will not put the questions in this regular order, but will first ask him to grant that A may be predicated of B; next, that D may be predicated of E; afterwards, that B may be predicated of C, &c. You will thus try to obtain all the concessions requisite for your final conclusion, before he perceives your drift. If you can carry your point by only one syllogism, and have only one middle term to get conceded, you will do well to put the middle term first in your questions. This is the best way to conceal your purpose from the respondent.32

It will be his business to see that he is not thus tripped up in the syllogistic process.33 If you ask the questions in the order above indicated, without enunciating your preliminary conclusions, he must take care not to concede the same term twice, either as predicate, or as subject, or as both; for you can arrive at no conclusion unless he grants you a middle term; and no term can be employed as middle, unless it be repeated twice. Knowing the conditions of a conclusion in each of the three figures, he will avoid making such concessions as will empower you to conclude in any one of them.34 If the thesis which he defends is affirmative, the elenchus by which you impugn it must be a negative; so that he will be careful not to concede the premisses for a negative conclusion. If his thesis be negative, your purpose will require you to meet him by an affirmative; accordingly he must avoid granting you any sufficient premisses for an affirmative conclusion. He may thus make it impossible for you to prove syllogistically the contrary or contradictory of his thesis; and it is in proving this that the elenchus or refutation consists. If he will not grant you any affirmative proposition, nor any universal proposition, you know, by the rules previously laid down, that no valid syllogism can be constructed; since nothing can be inferred either from two premisses both negative, or from two premisses both particular.35

We have already seen that error may arise by wrong enunciation or arrangement of the terms of a syllogism, that is, defects in its form; but sometimes also, even when the form is correct, error may arise from wrong belief as to the matters affirmed or denied.36 Thus the same predicate may belong, immediately and essentially, alike to several distinct subjects; but you may believe (what is the truth) that it belongs to one of them, and you may at the same time believe (erroneously) that it does not belong to another. Suppose that A is predicable essentially both of B and C, and that A, B, and C, are all predicable essentially of D. You may know that A is predicable of all B, and that B is predicable of all D; but you may at the same time believe (erroneously) that A is not predicable of any C, and that C is predicable of all D. Under this state of knowledge and belief, you may construct two valid syllogisms; the first (in Barbara, with B for its middle term) proving that A belongs to all D; the second (in Celarent, with C for its middle term) proving that A belongs to no D. The case will be the same, even if all the terms taken belong to the same ascending or descending logical series. Here, then, you know one proposition; yet you believe the proposition contrary to it.37 How can such a mental condition be explained? It would, indeed, be an impossibility, if the middle term of the two syllogisms were the same, and if the premisses of the one syllogism thus contradicted directly and in terms, the premisses of the other: should that happen, you cannot know one side of the alternative and believe the other. But if the middle term be different, so that the contradiction between the premisses of the one syllogism and those of the other, is not direct, there is no impossibility. Thus, you know that A is predicable of all B, and B of all D; while you believe at the same time that A is predicable of no C, and C of all D; the middle term being in one syllogism B, in the other, C.38 This last form of error is analogous to what often occurs in respect to our knowledge of particulars. You know that A belongs to all B, and B to all C; you know, therefore, that A belongs to all C. Yet you may perhaps be ignorant of the existence of C. Suppose A to denote equal to two right angles; B, to be the triangle generally; C, a particular visible triangle. You know A B the universal proposition; yet you may at the same time believe that C does not exist; and thus it may happen that you know, and do not know, the same thing at the same time. For, in truth, the knowledge, that every triangle has its three angles equal to two right angles, is not (as a mental fact) simple and absolute, but has two distinct aspects; one as concerns the universal, the other as concerns the several particulars. Now, assuming the case above imagined, you possess the knowledge in the first of these two aspects, but not in the second; so that the apparent contrariety between knowledge and no knowledge is not real.39 And in this sense the doctrine of Plato in the Menon is partially true — that learning is reminiscence. We can never know beforehand particular cases per se; but in proportion as we extend our induction to each case successively, we, as it were, recognize that, which we knew beforehand as a general truth, to be realized in each. Thus when we ascertain the given figure before us to be a triangle, we know immediately that its three angles are equal to two right angles.40

We thus, by help of the universal, acquire a theoretical knowledge of particulars, but we do not know them by the special observation properly belonging to each particular case: so that we may err in respect to them without any positive contrariety between our cognition and our error; since what we know is the universal, while what we err in is the particular. We may even know that A is predicable of all B, and that B is predicable of all C; and yet we may believe that A is not predicable of C. We may know that every mule is barren, and that the animal before us is a mule, yet still we may believe her to be in foal; for perhaps we may never have combined in our minds the particular case along with the universal proposition.41 A fortiori, therefore, we may make the like mistake, if we know the universal only, and do not know the particular. And this is perfectly possible. For take any one of the visible particular instances, even one which we have already inspected, so soon as it is out of sight we do not know it by actual and present cognition; we only know it, partly from the remembrance of past special inspection, partly from the universal under which it falls.42 We may know in one, or other, or all, of these three distinct ways: either by the universal; or specially (as remembered): or by combination of both — actual and present cognition, that is, by the application of a foreknown generality to a case submitted to our senses. And as we may know in each of these three ways, so we may also err or be deceived in each of the same three ways.43 It is therefore quite possible that we may know, and that we may err or be deceived about the same thing, and that, too, without any contrariety. This is what happens when we know both the two premisses of the syllogism, but have never reflected on them before, nor brought them into conjunction in our minds. When we believe that the mule before us is in foal, we are destitute of the actual knowledge; yet our erroneous belief is not for that reason contrary to knowledge; for an erroneous belief, contrary to the universal proposition, must be represented by a counter-syllogism.44

It is impossible, however, for a man to believe that one contrary is predicable of its contrary, or that one contrary is identical with its contrary, essentially and as an universal proposition; though he may believe that it is so by accident (i.e. in some particular case, by reason of the peculiarities of that case). In various ways this last is possible; but this we reserve for fuller examination.45

Whenever (Aristotle next goes on to say) the extremes of a syllogism reciprocate or are co-extensive with each other (i.e. when the conclusion being affirmative is convertible simply), the middle term must reciprocate or be co-extensive with both.46 If there be four terms (A, B, C, D), such that A reciprocates with B, and C with D, and if either A or C must necessarily be predicable of every subject; then it follows that either B or D must necessarily also be predicable of every subject. Again, if either A or B must necessarily be predicable of every subject, but never both predicable of the same at once; and if, either C or D must be predicable of every subject, but never both predicable of the same at once; then, if A and C reciprocate, B and D will also reciprocate.47 When A is predicable of all B and all C, but of no other subject besides, and when B is predicable of all C, then A and B must reciprocate with each other, or be co-extensive with each other; that is, B may be predicated of every subject of which A can be predicated, though B cannot be predicated of A itself.48 Again, when A and B are predicable of all C, and when C reciprocates with B, then A must also be predicable of all B.49

Lastly, suppose two pairs of opposites, A and B, C and D; let A be more eligible than B, and D more eligible than C. Then, if A C is more eligible than B D, A will also be more eligible than D. For A is as much worthy of pursuit as B is worthy of avoidance, they being two opposites; the like also respecting C and D. If then A and D are equally worthy of pursuit, B and C are equally worthy of avoidance; for each is equal to each. Accordingly the two together, A C, will be equal to the two together, B D. But this would be contrary to the supposition; since we assumed A to be more eligible than B, and D to be more eligible than C. It will be seen that on this supposition A is more worthy of pursuit than D, and that C is less worthy of avoidance than B; the greater good and the lesser evil being more eligible than the lesser good and the greater evil. Now apply this to a particular case of a lover, so far forth as lover. Let A represent his possession of those qualities which inspire reciprocity of love towards him in the person beloved; B, the absence of those qualities; D, the attainment of actual sexual enjoyment; C, the non-attainment thereof. In this state of circumstances, it is evident that A is more eligible or worthy of preference than D. The being loved is a greater object of desire to the lover qua lover than sexual gratification; it is the real end or purpose to which love aspires; and sexual gratification is either not at all the purpose, or at best only subordinate and accessory. The like is the case with our other appetites and pursuits.50

Such is the relation of the terms of a syllogism in regard to reciprocation and antithesis. Let it next be understood that the canons hitherto laid down belong not merely to demonstrative and dialectic syllogisms, but to rhetorical and other syllogisms also; all of which must be constructed in one or other of the three figures. In fact, every case of belief on evidence, whatever be the method followed, must be tested by these same canons. We believe everything either through Syllogism or upon Induction.51

Though Aristotle might seem, even here, to have emphatically contrasted Syllogism with Induction as a ground of belief, he proceeds forthwith to indicate a peculiar form of Syllogism which may be constructed out of Induction. Induction, and the Syllogism from or out of Induction (he says) is a process in which we invert the order of the terms. Instead of concluding from the major through the middle to the minor (i.e. concluding that the major is predicable of the minor), we now begin from the minor and conclude from thence through the middle to the major (i.e. we conclude that the major is predicable of the middle).52 In Syllogism as hitherto described, we concluded that A the major was predicable of C the minor, through the middle B; in the Syllogism from Induction we begin by affirming that A the major is predicable of C the minor; next, we affirm that B the middle is also predicable of C the minor. The two premisses, standing thus, correspond to the Third figure of the Syllogism (as explained in the preceding pages) and would not therefore by themselves justify anything more than a particular affirmative conclusion. But we reinforce them by introducing an extraneous assumption:— That the minor C is co-extensive with the middle B, and comprises the entire aggregate of individuals of which B is the universal or class-term. By reason of this assumption the minor proposition becomes convertible simply, and we are enabled to infer (according to the last preceding chapter) an universal affirmative conclusion, that the major term A is predicable of the middle term B. Thus, let A (the major term) mean the class-term, long-lived; let B (the middle term) mean the class-term, bile-less, or the having no bile; let C (the minor term) mean the individual animals — man, horse, mule, &c., coming under the class-term B, bile-less.53 We are supposed to know, or to have ascertained, that A may be predicated of all C; (i.e. that all men, horses, mules, &c., are long-lived); we farther know that B is predicable of all C (i.e. that men, horses, mules, &c., belong to the class bile-less). Here, then, we have two premisses in the Third syllogistic figure, which in themselves would warrant us in drawing the particular affirmative conclusion, that A is predicable of some B, but no more. Accordingly, Aristotle directs us to supplement these premisses54 by the extraneous assumption or postulate, that C the minor comprises all the individual animals that are bile-less, or all those that correspond to the class-term B; in other words, the assumption, that B the middle does not denote any more individuals than those which are covered by C the minor — that B the middle does not stretch beyond or overpass C the minor.55 Having the two premisses, and this postulate besides, we acquire the right to conclude that A is predicable of all B. But we could not draw that conclusion from the premisses alone, or without the postulate which declares B and C to be co-extensive. The conclusion, then, becomes a particular exemplification of the general doctrine laid down in the last chapter, respecting the reciprocation of extremes and the consequences thereof. We thus see that this very peculiar Syllogism from Induction is (as indeed Aristotle himself remarks) the opposite or antithesis of a genuine Syllogism. It has no proper middle term; the conclusion in which it results is the first or major proposition, the characteristic feature of which it is to be immediate, or not to be demonstrated through a middle term. Aristotle adds that the genuine Syllogism, which demonstrates through a middle term, is by nature prior and more effective as to cognition; but that the Syllogism from Induction is to us plainer and clearer.56

From Induction he proceeds to Example. You here take in (besides the three terms, major, middle, and minor, of the Syllogism) a fourth term; that is, a new particular case analogous to the minor. Your purpose here is to show — not, as in the ordinary Syllogism, that the major term is predicable of the minor, but, as in the Inductive Syllogism — that the major term is predicable of the middle term; and you prove this conclusion, not (as in the Inductive Syllogism) through the minor term, but through the new case or fourth term analogous to the minor.57 Let A represent evil or mischievous; B, war against neighbours, generally; C, war of Athens against Thebes, an event to come and under deliberation; D, war of Thebes against Phokis, a past event of which the issue is known to have been signally mischievous. You assume as known, first, that A is predicable of D, i.e. that the war of Thebes against Phokis has been disastrous; next, that B is predicable both of C and of D, i.e. that each of the two wars, of Athens against Thebes, and of Thebes against Phokis, is a war of neighbours against neighbours, or a conterminous war. Now from the premiss that A is predicable of D, along with the premiss that B is predicable of D, you infer that A is predicable of the class B, or of conterminous wars generally; and hence you draw the farther inference, that A is also predicable of C, another particular case under the same class B. The inference here is, in the first instance, from part to whole; and finally, through that whole, from the one part to another part of the same whole. Induction includes in its major premiss all the particulars, declaring all of them to be severally subjects of the major as predicate; hence it infers as conclusion, that the major is also predicable of the middle or class-term comprising all these particulars, but comprising no others. Example includes not all, but only one or a few particulars; inferring from it or them, first, to the entire class, next, to some new analogous particular belonging to the class.58

These chapters respecting Induction and Example are among the most obscure and perplexing in the Aristotelian Analytica. The attempt to throw both Induction and Example into the syllogistic form is alike complicated and unfortunate; moreover, the unsatisfactory reading and diversities in the text, among commentators and translators, show that the reasoning of Aristotle has hitherto been imperfectly apprehended.59 From some of his phrases, we see that he was aware of the essential antithesis between Induction and Syllogism; yet the syllogistic forms appear to have exercised such fascination over his mind, that he could not be satisfied without trying to find some abnormal form of Syllogism to represent and give validity to Induction. In explaining generally what the Syllogism is, and what Induction is, he informs us that the Syllogism presupposes and rests upon the process of Induction as its postulate. For there can be no valid Syllogism without an universal proposition in one (at least) of the premisses; and he declares, unequivocally, that universal propositions are obtained only through Induction. How Induction operates through the particular facts of sense, remembered, compared, and coalescing into clusters held together by associating similarity, he has also told us; it is thus that Experience, with its universal notions and conjunctions, is obtained. But this important process is radically distinct from that of syllogizing, though it furnishes the basis upon which all syllogizing is built.

The central idea of the Syllogism, as defined by Aristotle, is that of a conclusion following from given premisses by necessary sequence;60 meaning by the term necessary thus much and no more — that you cannot grant the premisses, and deny the conclusion, without being inconsistent with yourself, or falling into contradiction. In all the various combinations of propositions, set forth by Aristotle as the different figures and modes of Syllogism, this property of necessary sequence is found. But it is a property which no Induction can ever possess.61 When Aristotle professes to point out a particular mode of Syllogism to which Induction conforms, he can only do so by falsifying the process of Induction, and by not accurately distinguishing between what is observed and what is inferred. In the case which he takes to illustrate the Inductive Syllogism — the inference from all particular bile-less animals to the whole class bile-less — he assumes that we have ascertained the attribute to belong to all the particulars, and that the inductive inference consists in passing from all of them to the class-term; the passage from premisses to conclusion being here necessary, and thus falling under the definition of Syllogism; since, to grant the premisses, and yet to deny the conclusion, involves a contradiction. But this doctrine misconceives what the inductive inference really is. We never can observe all the particulars of a class, which is indefinite as to number of particulars, and definite only in respect of the attributes connoted by the class-term. We can only observe some of the particulars, a greater or smaller proportion. Now it is in the transition from these to the totality of particulars, that the real inductive inference consists; not in the transition from the totality to the class-term which denotes that totality and connotes its determining common attribute. In fact, the distinction between the totality of particulars and the meaning of the class-term, is one not commonly attended to; though it is worthy of note in an analysis of the intellectual process, and is therefore brought to view by Aristotle. But he employs it incorrectly as an intermediate step to slur over the radical distinction between Induction and Syllogism. He subjoins:62— “You must conceive the minor term C (in the Inductive Syllogism) as composed of all the particulars; for Induction is through all of them.” You may say that Induction is through all the particulars, if you distinguish this totality from the class-term, and if you treat the class-term as the ultimate terminus ad quem. But the Induction must first travel to all the particulars; being forced to take start from a part only, and then to jump onward far enough to cover the indefinite unobserved remainder. This jump is the real Induction; and this can never be brought under the definition of Syllogism; for in the best and most certain Induction the sequence is never a necessary one: you may grant the premisses and deny the conclusion without contradicting yourself.

Aristotle states very clearly:— “We believe everything either through Syllogism, or from Induction.”63 Here, as well as in several other passages, he notes the two processes as essentially distinct. The Syllogism requires in its premisses at least one general proposition; nor does Aristotle conceive the “generalities as the original data:”64 he derives them from antecedent Induction. The two processes are (as he says) opposite in a certain way; that is, they are complementary halves of the same whole; Induction being the establishment of those universals which are essential for the deductive march of the Syllogism; while the two together make up the entire process of scientific reasoning. But he forgets or relinquishes this antithesis, when he presents to us the Inductive process as a given variety of Syllogism. And the objection to such a doctrine becomes the more manifest, since in constructing his Inductive Syllogism, he is compelled to admit either that there is no middle term, or that the middle term is subject of the conclusion, in violation of the syllogistic canons.65

We must presume Syllogisms without a middle term, when we read:— “The Syllogism through a middle term is by nature prior, and of greater cognitive efficacy; but to us the Syllogism through Induction is plainer and clearer.”66 Nor, indeed, is the saying, when literally taken, at all well-founded; for the pretended Syllogisms from Induction and Example, far from being clear and plain, are more involved and difficult to follow than Barbara and Celarent. Yet the substance of Aristotle’s thought is true and important, when considered as declaring the antithesis (not between varieties of Syllogisms, but) between Induction and Example on the one part, and Syllogism (Deduction) on the other. It is thus that he sets out the same antithesis elsewhere, both in the Analytica Posteriora and the Topica.67 Prior and more cognizable by nature or absolutely, prior and more cognizable to us or in relation to us — these two are not merely distinct, but the one is the correlate and antithesis of the other.

To us the particulars of sense stand first, and are the earliest objects of knowledge. To us, means to the large variety of individual minds, which grow up imperceptibly from the simple capacities of infancy to the mature accomplishments of adult years; each acquiring its own stock of sensible impressions, remembered, compared, associated; and each learning a language, which both embodies in general terms and propositions the received classification of objects, and communicates the current emotional beliefs. We all begin by being learners; and we ascend by different paths to those universal notions and beliefs which constitute the common fund of the advanced intellect; developed in some minds into principia of philosophy with their consequences. By nature, or absolutely, these principia are considered as prior, and as forming the point of departure: the advanced position is regarded as gained, and the march taken is not that of the novice, but that of the trained adult, who having already learnt much, is doubly equipped either for learning more or for teaching others; who thus stands on a summit from whence he surveys nature as a classified and coherent whole, manifesting herself in details which he can interpret and sometimes predict. The path of knowledge, seen relatively to us, is one through particulars, by way of example to fresh particulars, or by way of induction to universals. The path of knowledge, by nature or absolutely, is from universals by way of deduction either to new universals or to new particulars. By the cognitive nature of man, Aristotle means the full equipment, of and for cognition, which our mature age exhibits; notiora naturâ are the acquisitions, points of view, and processes, familiar in greater or less perfection to such mature individuals and societies. Notiora nobis are the facts and processes with which all of us begin, and which belong to the intellect in its highest as well as its lowest stage; though, in the higher stages, they are employed, directed, and modified, by an acquired intellectual capital, and by the permanent machinery of universal significant terms in which that capital is invested.

Such is the antithesis between notiora naturâ (or simpliciter) and notiora nobis (or quoad nos), which Aristotle recognizes as a capital point in his philosophy, and insists upon in many of his writings. The antithesis is represented by Example and Induction, in the point of view — quoad nos — last mentioned; by Syllogism or Deduction, in the other point of view — naturâ. Induction (he says),68 or the rising from particulars to universals, is plainer, more persuasive, more within the cognizance of sensible perception, more within the apprehension of mankind generally, than Syllogism; but Syllogism is more cogent and of greater efficacy against controversial opponents. What he affirms here about Induction is equally true about the inference from Example, that is, the inference from one or some particulars, to other analogous particulars; the rudimentary intellectual process, common to all human and to many animal minds, of which Induction is an improvement and an exaltation. While Induction will be more impressive, and will carry assent more easily with an ordinary uncultivated mind, an acute disputant may always deny the ultimate inference, for the denial involves no contradiction. But the rightly constructed Syllogism constrains assent;69 the disputant cannot grant the premisses and deny the conclusion without contradicting himself. The constraining force, however, does not come into accurate and regulated working until the principles and conditions of deductive reasoning have been set forth — until the Syllogism has been analysed, and the characteristics of its validity, as distinguished from its invalidity, have been marked out. This is what Aristotle teaches in the Analytica and Topica. It admits of being set out in regular figure and mode — forms of premisses with the conclusion appropriate to each; and the lesson must be learnt before we can know how far the force of deductive reasoning, which begins with the notiora naturâ, is legitimately binding and trustworthy.

Both the two main points of Aristotle’s doctrine — the antithesis between Induction and Deduction, and the dependence of the latter process upon premisses furnished by the former, so that the two together form the two halves of complete ratiocination and authoritative proof — both these two are confused and darkened by his attempt to present the Inductive inference and the Analogical or Paradeigmatic inference as two special forms of Syllogistic deduction.70 But when we put aside this attempt, and adhere to Aristotle’s main doctrine — of Induction as a process antithetical to and separate from Deduction, yet as an essential preliminary thereto, — we see that it forms the basis of that complete and comprehensive System of Logic, recently elaborated in the work of Mr. John Stuart Mill. The inference from Example (i.e. from some particulars to other similar particulars) is distinguished by Aristotle from Induction, and is recognized by him as the primitive intellectual energy, common to all men, through which Induction is reached; its results he calls Experience (ἐμπειρία), and he describes it as the real guide, more essential than philosophical generalities, to exactness of performance in detail.71 Mr. John Mill has been the first to assign to Experience, thus understood, its full value and true position in the theory of Ratiocination; and to show that the Paradeigmatic process exhibits the prime and ultimate reality of all Inference, the real premisses and the real conclusion which Inference connects together. Between these two is interposed the double process of which Induction forms the first half and Deduction the second; neither the one nor the other being indispensable to Inference, but both of them being required as securities for Scientific inference, if we desire to have its correctness tested and its sufficiency certified; the real evidence, whereby the conclusion of a Syllogism is proved, being the minor premiss, together with (not the major premiss itself, but) the assemblage of particular facts from which by Induction the major premiss is drawn. Now Aristotle had present to his mind the conception of Inference as an entire process, enabling us from some particular truths to discover and prove other particular truths: he considers it as an unscientific process, of which to a limited extent other animals besides man are capable, and which, as operative under the title of Experience in mature practical men, is a safer guide than Science amidst the doubts and difficulties of action. Upon this foundation he erects the superstructure of Science; the universal propositions acquired through Induction, and applied again to particulars or to lower generalities, through the rules of the deductive Syllogism. He signalizes, with just emphasis, the universalizing point of view called Science or Theory; but he regards it as emerging from particular facts, and as travelling again downwards towards particular facts. The misfortune is, that he contents himself with barely recognizing, though he distinctly proclaims the necessity of, the inductive part of this complex operation; while he bestows elaborate care upon the analysis of the deductive part, and of the rules for conducting it. From this disproportionate treatment, one half of Logic is made to look like the whole; Science is disjoined from Experience, and is presented as consisting in Deduction alone; every thing which is not Deduction, is degraded into unscientific Experience; the major premiss of the Syllogism being considered as part of the proof of the conclusion, and the conclusion being necessarily connected therewith, we appear to have acquired a locus standi and a binding cogency such as Experience could never supply; lastly, when Aristotle resolves Induction into a peculiar variety of the Syllogism, he appears finally to abolish all its separate dignity and jurisdiction. This one-sided view of Logic has been embraced and perpetuated by the Aristotelian expositors, who have carefully illustrated, and to a certain extent even amplified, the part which was already in comparative excess, while they have added nothing to the part that was in defect, and have scarcely even preserved Aristotle’s recognition of it as being not merely legitimate but essential. The vast body of Inductive Science, accumulated during the last three centuries, has thus, until recently, been allowed to grow up, as if its proofs and processes had nothing to do with Logic.

But though this restricted conception of Logic or the theory of Reasoning has arisen naturally from Aristotle’s treatment, I maintain that it does not adequately represent his view of that theory. In his numerous treatises on other subjects, scarcely any allusion is made to the Syllogism; nor is appeal made to the rules for it laid down in the Analytica. His conviction that the formalities of Deduction were only one part of the process of general reasoning, and that the value of the final conclusion depended not merely upon their being correctly performed, but also upon the correctness of that initial part whereby they are supplied with matter for premisses — is manifested as well by his industry (unrivalled among his contemporaries) in collecting multifarious facts, as by his specific declarations respecting Induction. Indeed, a recent most erudite logician, Sir William Hamilton, who insists upon the construction of Logic in its strictest sense as purely formal, blames Aristotle72 for having transgressed this boundary, and for introducing other considerations bearing on diversities of matter and of material evidence. The charge so made, to whatever extent it is well-founded, does rather partake of the nature of praise; inasmuch as it evinces Aristotle’s larger views of the theory of Inference, and confirms his own statement that the Deductive process was only the last half of it, presupposing a prior Induction. It is only this last half that Aristotle has here analysed, setting forth its formal conditions with precepts founded thereupon; while he claims to have accomplished the work by long and patient investigation, having found not the smallest foundation laid by others, and bespeaks indulgence73 as for a first attempt requiring to be brought to completion by others. He made this first step for himself; and if any one would make a second step, so as to apply the same analysis to the other half, and to bring out in like manner the formal conditions and principles of Induction, we may fairly believe that Aristotle would have welcomed the act, as filling up what he himself recognized to be a gap in the entire compass of Reasoning. As to his own achievement, it is certain that he could not have composed the Analytica and Topica, if he had not had before him many specimens of the deductive process to study and compare. Neither could the inductive process have been analysed, until after the examples of successful advance in inductive science which recent years have furnished. Upon these examples, mainly, has been based the profound System of Mr. John Stuart Mill, analysing and discriminating the formalities of Induction in the same way as those of Deduction had before been handled by Aristotle; also fusing the two together as co-operative towards one comprehensive scheme of Logic — the Logic of Evidence generally, or of Truth as discoverable and proveable. In this scheme the Syllogistic Theory, or Logic of Consistency between one proposition and others, is recognized as an essential part, but is no longer tolerated as an independent whole.74

After adverting to another variety of ratiocinative procedure, which he calls Apagoge or Abduction (where the minor is hardly more evident than the conclusion, and might sometimes conveniently become a conclusion first to be proved),75 Aristotle goes on to treat of Objection generally — the function of the dialectical respondent. The Enstasis or Objection is a proposition opposed not to a conclusion, but to the proposition set up by the defendant. When the proposition set up by him is universal, as it must be if he seeks to establish an universal conclusion, your objection may be either universal or particular: you may deny either the whole of his proposition, or only one portion of the particulars contained under it; the denial of one single particular, when substantiated, being enough to overthrow his universal. Accordingly, your objection, being thus variously opposed to the proposition, will lie in the syllogistic figures which admit opposite conclusions; that is, either in the First or Third; for the Second figure admits only negative conclusions not opposed to each other. If the defendant has set up an Universal Affirmative, you may deny the whole and establish a contrary negative, in the First figure; or you may deny a part only, and establish a contradictory negative, in the Third figure. The like, if he has set up an Universal Negative: you may impugn it either by an universal contrary affirmative, in the First figure; or by a particular contradictory affirmative, in the Third figure.76

The Enthymeme is a syllogism from Probabilities or Signs;77 the two being not exactly the same. Probabilities are propositions commonly accepted, and true in the greater number of cases; such as, Envious men hate those whom they envy, Persons who are beloved look with affection on those who love them. We call it a Sign, when one fact is the antecedent or consequent of another, and therefore serves as mark or evidence thereof. The conjunction may be either constant, or frequent, or merely occasional: if constant, we obtain for the major premiss of our syllogism a proposition approaching that which is universally or necessarily true; if not constant but only frequent or occasional, the major premiss of our syllogism will at best only be probable. The constant conjunction will furnish us with a Syllogism or Enthymeme in the First figure; the significant mark being here a genuine middle term — subject in the major premiss, and predicate in the minor. We can then get a conclusion both affirmative and universally true. In other cases, we cannot obtain premisses for a syllogism in the First figure, but only for a syllogism in the Second or Third. In the Third figure, since we get by right no universal conclusions at all, but only particular conclusions, the conclusion of the Enthymeme, though it may happen to be true, is open to refutation. Where by the laws of Syllogism no affirmative conclusion whatever is possible, as in the Second figure, the conclusion obtained by Enthymeme is altogether suspicious. In contrast with the Sign in these figures, that which enters as an effective middle term into the First figure, should be distinguished under the name of Proof (τεκμήριον.)78

Aristotle concludes his Analytica Priora by applying this doctrine of Signs to determine the limits within which Physiognomy as a science is practicable. The basis upon which it rests is this general fact or postulate: That in all natural affections of the animal, bodily changes and mental changes accompany each other. The former, therefore, may become signs or proofs of the latter,79 if, in each class of animals, we can discriminate the one specific bodily phenomenon which attaches to each mental phenomenon. Thus, the lion is a courageous animal. What is the bodily sign accompanying a courageous disposition? It is (we assume here) the having extremities of great size. This belongs to all lions, as a proprium; in the sense that, though it may or does belong also to some individuals of other races (as men), it does not belong to any other entire race. Physiognomy as a science will, then, be possible, if we can find races of animals which have only one characteristic mental attribute, and if we can discover what is the physical attribute correlating with it.80 But the difficulties are greater when the same race has two characteristic mental attributes (e.g. lions are both courageous and generous), each with its correlative physical attribute; for how can we tell which belongs to which? We have then to study individuals of other races possessing one of these attributes without the other; thus, if we find that courageous men, who are not generous, agree in having large extremities, we may infer that this last circumstance is, in the lion, the correlative mark of his courage and not of his generosity. The physiognomonic inference will be expressed by a syllogism in the First figure, in which the major term (A) reciprocates and is convertible with the middle term (B), while B stretches beyond (or is more extensive than) the minor (C); this relation of the terms being necessary, if there is to be a single mark for a particular attribute.81

Here the treatise ends; but the reader will remember that, in describing the canons laid down by Aristotle for the Syllogism with its three Figures and the Modes contained therein, I confined myself to the simple Assertory syllogism, postponing for the moment the long expositions added by him about Modal syllogisms, involving the Possible and the Necessary. What is proper to be said about this complicated and useless portion of the Analytica Priora, may well come in here; for, in truth, the doctrines just laid down about Probabilities, Signs, and Proofs, bring us back to the Modals under a different set of phrases. The Possible or Problematical is that, of the occurrence or reality of which we doubt, neither believing nor disbelieving it, not being prepared to assert either that it is, or that it is not; that which may be or may not be. It is our manner of speaking, when we have only signs or probabilities to guide us, and not certain proofs. The feeling of doubt is, as a psychological phenomenon, essentially distinct from the feeling of belief which, in its objective aspect, correlates with certainty or matter of fact; as well as from the feeling of disbelief, the correlate of which can only be described negatively. Every man knows these feelings by his own mental experience. But in describing the feeling of doubt, as to its matter or in its objective aspect, we must take care to use phrases which declare plainly both sides of its disjunctive or alternative character. The Possible is, That which either may be or may not be. As That which may be, it stands opposed to the Impossible; as That which may not be, it stands opposed to the Necessary. It thus carries with it negation both of impossibility and of necessity; but, in common parlance, the first half of this meaning stands out prominently, and is mistaken for the whole. Aristotle, as we saw previously, speaks equivocally on this point, recognizing a double signification of the term: he sometimes uses it in the sense opposed only to impossible, maintaining that what is necessary must also be possible; sometimes in the truer sense, opposed both to necessity and to impossibility.82

The Possible or Problematical, however, in this latter complete sense — What may or may not be — exhibits various modifications or gradations. 1. The chances on either side may be conceived as perfectly equal, so that there is no probability, and we have no more reason for expecting one side of the alternative than the other; the sequence or conjunction is indeterminate. Aristotle construes this indeterminateness in many cases (not as subjective, or as depending upon our want of complete knowledge and calculating power, but) as objective, insuperable, and inherent in many phenomenal agencies; characterizing it, under the names of Spontaneity and Chance, as the essentially unpredictable. 2. The chances on both sides may be conceived as unequal and the ratio between them as varying infinitely: the usual and ordinary tendency of phenomena — what Aristotle calls Nature — prevails in the majority of cases, but not in all; being liable to occasional counteraction from Chance and other forces. Thus, between Necessity and perfect constancy at one extreme (such as the rotation of the sidereal sphere), and Chance at the other, there may be every shade of gradation; from natural agency next below the constant, down to the lowest degree of probability.83

Now, within the range of these limits lie what Aristotle describes as Signs and Probabilities; in fact, all the marks which we shall presently come to as distinguishing the dialectical syllogism from the demonstrative. But here is involved rather the matter of the Syllogism than its form. The form indeed is so far implicated, that (as Aristotle justly remarks at the end of the Analytica Priora84), the First figure is the only one that will prove both conjunctions and disjunctions, as well constant as occasional; the Third figure proves only occasional conjunctions and occasional disjunctions, not constant; the Second figure will prove no conjunctions at all, but only disjunctions, constant as well as occasional. Here a difference of form is properly pointed out as coupled with and founded on a difference of matter. But the special rules given by Aristotle, early in the present treatise, for the conversion of Modal Propositions, and the distinctions that he draws as to the modal character of the conclusion according as one or other of the premisses belongs to one or other of the different modes, — are both prolix and of little practical value.85

What he calls the Necessary might indeed, from the point of view now reached, cease to be recognized as a separate mode at all. The Certain and the Problematical are real modes of the Proposition; objective correlates to the subjective phases called Belief and Doubt. But no proposition can be more than certain: the word necessary, in strictness, implies only a peculiarity of the evidence on which our belief is grounded. Granting certain given premisses to be true, a given conclusion must be true also, if we would avoid inconsistency and contradiction.

 

 

 

 

 

In the two books of Analytica Priora, Aristotle has carried us through the full doctrine of the functions and varieties of the Syllogism; with an intimation that it might be applied to two purposes — Demonstration and Dialectic. We are now introduced to these two distinct applications of the Syllogism: first, in the Analytica Posteriora, to Demonstration; next, in the Topica, to Dialectic. We are indeed distinctly told that, as far as the forms and rules of Syllogism go, these are alike applicable to both;1 but the difference of matter and purpose in the two cases is so considerable as to require a distinct theory and precepts for the one and for the other.

The contrast between Dialectic (along with Rhetoric) on the one hand and Science on the other is one deeply present to the mind of Aristotle. He seems to have proceeded upon the same fundamental antithesis as that which appears in the Platonic dialogues; but to have modified it both in meaning and in terminology, dismissing at the same time various hypotheses with which Plato had connected it.

The antithesis that both thinkers have in view is Opinion or Common Sense versus Science or Special Teaching and Learning; those aptitudes, acquirements, sentiments, antipathies, &c., which a man imbibes and appropriates insensibly, partly by his own doing and suffering, partly by living amidst the drill and example of a given society — as distinguished from those accomplishments which he derives from a teacher already known to possess them, and in which both the time of his apprenticeship and the steps of his progress are alike assignable.

Common Sense is the region of Opinion, in which there is diversity of authorities and contradiction of arguments without any settled truth; all affirmations being particular and relative, true at one time and place, false at another. Science, on the contrary, deals with imperishable Forms and universal truths, which Plato regards, in their subjective aspect, as the innate, though buried, furniture of the soul, inherited from an external pre-existence, and revived in it out of the misleading data of sense by a process first of the cross-examining Elenchus, next of scientific Demonstration. Plato depreciates altogether the untaught, unexamined, stock of acquirements which passes under the name of Common Sense, as a mere worthless semblance of knowledge without reality; as requiring to be broken up by the scrutinizing Elenchus, in order to impress a painful but healthy consciousness of ignorance, and to prepare the mind for that process of teaching whereby alone Science or Cognition can be imparted.2 He admits that Opinion may be right as well as wrong. Yet even when right, it is essentially different from Science, and is essentially transitory; a safe guide to action while it lasts, but not to be trusted for stability or permanence.3 By Plato, Rhetoric is treated as belonging to the province of Opinion, Dialectic to that of Science. The rhetor addresses multitudes in continuous speech, appeals to received common places, and persuades: the dialectician, conversing only with one or a few, receives and imparts the stimulus of short question and answer; thus awakening the dormant capacities of the soul to the reminiscence of those universal Forms or Ideas which are the only true Knowable.

Like Plato, Aristotle distinguishes the region of Common Sense or Opinion from that of Science, and regards Universals as the objects of Science. But his Universals are very different from those of Plato: they are not self-existent realities, known by the mind from a long period of pre-existence, and called up by reminiscence out of the chaos of sensible impressions. To operate such revival is the great function that Plato assigns to Dialectic. But in the philosophy of Aristotle Dialectic is something very different. It is placed alongside of Rhetoric in the region of Opinion. Both the rhetor and the dialectician deal with all subjects, recognizing no limit; they attack or defend any or all conclusions, employing the process of ratiocination which Aristotle has treated under the name of Syllogism; they take up as premisses any one of the various opinions in circulation, for which some plausible authority may be cited; they follow out the consequences of one opinion in its bearing upon others, favourable or unfavourable, and thus become well furnished with arguments for and against all. The ultimate foundation here supposed is some sort of recognized presumption or authoritative sanction4 — law, custom, or creed, established among this or that portion of mankind, some maxim enunciated by an eminent poet, some doctrine of the Pythagoreans or other philosophers, current proverb, answer from the Delphian oracle, &c. Any one of these may serve as a dialectical authority. But these authorities, far from being harmonious with each other, are recognized as independent, discordant, and often contradictory. Though not all of equal value,5 each is sufficient to warrant the setting up of a thesis for debate. In Dialectic, one of the disputants undertakes to do this, and to answer all questions that may be put to him respecting the thesis, without implicating himself in inconsistencies or contradiction. The questioner or assailant, on the other hand, shapes his questions with a view to refute the thesis, by eliciting answers which may furnish him with premisses for some syllogism in contradiction thereof. But he is tied down by the laws of debate to syllogize only from such premisses as the respondent has expressly granted; and to put questions in such manner that the respondent is required only to give or withhold assent, according as he thinks right.

We shall see more fully how Aristotle deals with Dialectic, when we come to the Topica: here I put it forward briefly, in order that the reader may better understand, by contrast, its extreme antithesis, viz., Demonstrative Science and Necessary Truth as conceived by Aristotle. First, instead of two debaters, one of whom sets up a thesis which he professes to understand and undertakes to maintain, while the other puts questions upon it, — Demonstrative Science assumes a teacher who knows, and a learner conscious of ignorance but wishing to know. The teacher lays down premisses which the learner is bound to receive; or if they are put in the form of questions, the learner must answer them as the teacher expects, not according to his own knowledge. Secondly, instead of the unbounded miscellany of subjects treated in Dialectic, Demonstrative Science is confined to a few special subjects, in which alone appropriate premisses can be obtained, and definitions framed. Thirdly, instead of the several heterogeneous authorities recognized in Dialectic, Demonstrative Science has principia of its own, serving as points of departure; some principia common to all its varieties, others special or confined to one alone. Fourthly, there is no conflict of authorities in Demonstrative Science; its propositions are essential, universal, and true per se, from the commencement to the conclusion; while Dialectic takes in accidental premisses as well as essential. Fifthly, the principia of Demonstrative Science are obtained from Induction only; originating in particulars which are all that the ordinary growing mind can at first apprehend (notiora nobis), but culminating in universals which correspond to the perfection of our cognitive comprehension (notiora naturâ.)6

Amidst all these diversities, Dialectic and Demonstrative Science have in common the process of Syllogism, including such assumptions as the rules of syllogizing postulate. In both, the conclusions are hypothetically true (i.e. granting the premisses to be so). But, in demonstrative syllogism, the conclusions are true universally, absolutely, and necessarily; deriving this character from their premisses, which Aristotle holds up as the cause, reason, or condition of the conclusion. What he means by Demonstrative Science, we may best conceive, by taking it as a small τέμενος or specially cultivated enclosure, subdivided into still smaller separate compartments — the extreme antithesis to the vast common land of Dialectic. Between the two lies a large region, neither essentially determinate like the one, nor essentially indeterminate like the other; an intermediate region in which are comprehended the subjects of the treatises forming the very miscellaneous Encyclopædia of Aristotle. These subjects do not admit of being handled with equal exactness; accordingly, he admonishes us that it is important to know how much exactness is attainable in each, and not to aspire to more.7

In setting out the process of Demonstration, Aristotle begins from the idea of teaching and learning. In every variety thereof some præcognita must be assumed, which the learner must know before he comes to be taught, and upon which the teacher must found his instruction.8 This is equally true, whether we proceed (as in Syllogism) from the more general to the less general, or (as in Induction) from the particular to the general. He who comes to learn Geometry must know beforehand the figures called circle and triangle, and must have a triangular figure drawn to contemplate; he must know what is a unit or monad, and must have, besides, exposed before him what is chosen as the unit for the reasoning on which he is about to enter. These are the præcognita required for Geometry and Arithmetic. Some præcognita are also required preparatory to any and all reasoning: e.g., the maxim of Identity (fixed meaning of terms and propositions), and the maxims of Contradiction and of Excluded Middle (impossibility that a proposition and its contradictory can either be both true or both false.)9 The learner must thus know beforehand certain Definitions and Axioms, as conditions without which the teacher cannot instruct him in any demonstrative science.

Aristotle, here at the beginning, seeks to clear up a difficulty which had been raised in the time of Plato as between knowledge and learning. How is it possible to learn at all? is a question started in the Menon.10 You either know a thing already, and, on this supposition, you do not want to learn it; or you do not know it, and in this case you cannot learn it, because, even when you have learnt, you cannot tell whether the matter learnt is what you were in search of. To this difficulty, the reply made in the Menon is, that you never do learn any thing really new. What you are said to learn, is nothing more than reminiscence of what had once been known in an anterior life, and forgotten at birth into the present life; what is supposed to be learnt is only the recall of that which you once knew, but had forgotten. Such is the Platonic doctrine of Reminiscence. Aristotle will not accept that doctrine as a solution; but he acknowledges the difficulty, and intimates that others had already tried to solve it without success. His own solution is that there are two grades of cognition: (1) the full, complete, absolute; (2) the partial, incomplete, qualified. What you already know by the first of these grades, you cannot be said to learn; but you may learn that which you know only by the second grade, and by such learning you bring your incomplete cognition up to completeness.

Thus, you have learnt, and you know, the universal truth, that every triangle has its three angles equal to two right angles; but you do not yet know that A B C, D E F, G H I, &c., have their two angles equal to two right angles; for you have not yet seen any of these figures, and you do not know that they are triangles. The moment that you see A B C, or hear what figure it is, you learn at one and the same time two facts: first, that it is a triangle; next, by virtue of your previous cognition, that it possesses the above-mentioned property. You knew this in a certain way or incompletely before, by having followed the demonstration of the universal truth, and by thus knowing that every triangle had its three angles equal to two right angles; but you did not know it absolutely, being ignorant that A B C was a triangle.11

Aristotle proceeds to tell us what is meant by knowing a thing absolutely or completely (ἁπλῶς). It is when we believe ourselves to know the cause or reason through which the matter known exists, so that it cannot but be as it is. That is what Demonstration, or Scientific Syllogism, teaches us;12 a Syllogism derived from premisses true, immediate, prior to, and more knowable than the conclusion — causes of the conclusion, and specially appropriate thereto. These premisses must be known beforehand without being demonstrated (i.e. known not through a middle term); and must be known not merely in the sense of understanding the signification of the terms, but also in that of being able to affirm the truth of the proposition. Prior or more knowable is understood here as prior or more knowable by nature (not relatively to us, according to the antithesis formerly explained); first, most universal, undemonstrable principia are meant. Some of these are Axioms, which the learner must “bring with him from home,” or know before the teacher can instruct him in any special science; some are Definitions of the name and its essential meaning; others, again, are Hypotheses or affirmations of the existence of the thing defined, which the learner must accept upon the authority of the teacher.13 As these are the principia of Demonstration, so it is necessary that the learner should know them, not merely as well as the conclusions demonstrated, but even better; and that among matters contradictory to the principia there should be none that he knows better or trusts more.14

In Aristotle’s time two doctrines had been advanced, in opposition to the preceding theory: (1) Some denied the necessity of any indemonstrable principia, and affirmed the possibility of, demonstrating backwards ad infinitum; (2) Others agreed in denying the necessity of any indemonstrable principia, but contended that demonstration in a circle is valid and legitimate — e.g. that A may be demonstrated by means of B, and B by means of A. Against both these doctrines Aristotle enters his protest. The first of them — the supposition of an interminable regress — he pronounces to be obviously absurd: the second he declares tantamount to proving a thing by itself; the circular demonstration, besides, having been shown to be impossible, except in the First figure, with propositions in which the predicate reciprocates or is co-extensive with the subject — a very small proportion among propositions generally used in demonstrating.15

Demonstrative Science is attained only by syllogizing from necessary premisses, such as cannot possibly be other than they are. The predicate must be (1) de omni, (2) per se, (3) quatenus ipsum, so that it is a Primum Universale; this third characteristic not being realized without the preceding two. First, the predicate must belong, and belong at all times, to everything called by the name of the subject. Next, it must belong thereunto per se, or essentially; that is, either the predicate must be stated in the definition declaring the essence of the subject, or the subject must be stated in the definition declaring the essence of the predicate. The predicate must not be extra-essential to the subject, nor attached to it as an adjunct from without, simply concomitant or accidental. The like distinction holds in regard to events: some are accidentally concomitant sequences which may or may not be realized (e.g., a flash of lightning occurring when a man is on his journey); in others, the conjunction is necessary or causal (as when an animal dies under the sacrificial knife).16 Both these two characteristics (de omni and per se) are presupposed in the third (quatenus ipsum); but this last implies farther, that the predicate is attached to the subject in the highest universality consistent with truth; i.e., that it is a First Universal, a primary predicate and not a derivative predicate. Thus, the predicate of having its three angles equal to two right angles, is a characteristic not merely de omni and per se, but also a First Universal, applied to a triangle. It is applied to a triangle, quatenus triangle, as a primary predicate. If applied to a subject of higher universality (e.g., to every geometrical figure), it would not be always true. If applied to a subject of lower universality (e.g., to a right-angled triangle or an isosceles triangle), it would be universally true and would be true per se, but it would be a derivative predicate and not a First Universal; it would not be applied to the isosceles quatenus isosceles, for there is a still higher Universal of which it is predicable, being true respecting any triangle you please. Thus, the properties with which Demonstration, or full and absolute Science, is conversant, are de omni, per se, and quatenus ipsum, or Universalia Prima;17 all of them necessary, such as cannot but be true.

Aristotle remarks that there is great liability to error about these Universalia Prima. We sometimes demonstrate a predicate to be true, universally and per se, of a lower species, without being aware that it might also be demonstrated to be true, universally and per se, of the higher genus to which that species belongs; perhaps, indeed, that higher genus may not yet have obtained a current name. That proportions hold by permutation, was demonstrated severally for numbers, lines, solids, and intervals of time; but this belongs to each of them, not from any separate property of each, but from what is common to all: that, however, which is common to all had received no name, so that it was not known that one demonstration might comprise all the four.18 In like manner, a man may know that an equilateral and an isosceles triangle have their three angles equal to two right angles, and also that a scalene triangle has its three angles equal to two right angles; yet he may not know (except sophistically and by accident19) that a triangle in genere has its three angles equal to two right angles, though there be no other triangles except equilateral, isosceles, and scalene. He does not know that this may be demonstrated of every triangle quatenus triangle. The only way to obtain a certain recognition of Primum Universale, is, to abstract successively from the several conditions of a demonstration respecting the concrete and particular, until the proposition ceases to be true. Thus, you have before you a brazen isosceles triangle, the three angles whereof are equal to two right angles. You may eliminate the condition brazen, and the proposition will still remain true. You may also eliminate the condition isosceles; still the proposition is true. But you cannot eliminate the condition triangle, so as to retain only the higher genus, geometrical figure; for the proposition then ceases to be always true. Triangle is in this case the Primum Universale.20

In every demonstration the principia or premisses must be not only true, but necessarily true; the conclusion also will then be necessarily true, by reason of the premisses, and this constitutes Demonstration. Wherever the premisses are necessarily true, the conclusion will be necessarily true; but you cannot say, vice versâ, that wherever the conclusion is necessarily true, the syllogistic premisses from which it follows must always be necessarily true. They may be true without being necessarily true, or they may even be false: if, then, the conclusion be necessarily true, it is not so by reason of these premisses; and the syllogistic proof is in this case no demonstration. Your syllogism may have true premisses and may lead to a conclusion which is true by reason of them; but still you have not demonstrated, since neither premisses nor conclusion are necessarily true.21 When an opponent contests your demonstration, he succeeds if he can disprove the necessity of your conclusion; if he can show any single case in which it either is or may be false.22 It is not enough to proceed upon a premiss which is either probable or simply true: it may be true, yet not appropriate to the case: you must take your departure from the first or highest universal of the genus about which you attempt to demonstrate.23 Again, unless you can state the why of your conclusion; that is to say, unless the middle term, by reason of which the conclusion is necessarily true, be itself necessarily true, — you have not demonstrated it, nor do you know it absolutely. Your middle term not being necessary may vanish, while the conclusion to which it was supposed to lead abides: in truth no conclusion was known through that middle.24 In the complete demonstrative or scientific syllogism, the major term must be predicable essentially or per se of the middle, and the middle term must be predicable essentially or per se of the minor; thus alone can you be sure that the conclusion also is per se or necessary. The demonstration cannot take effect through a middle term which is merely a Sign; the sign, even though it be a constant concomitant, yet being not, or at least not known to be, per se, will not bring out the why of the conclusion, nor make the conclusion necessary. Of non-essential concomitants altogether there is no demonstration; wherefore it might seem to be useless to put questions about such; yet, though the questions cannot yield necessary premisses for a demonstrative conclusion, they may yield premisses from which a conclusion will necessarily follow.25

In every demonstration three things may be distinguished: (1) The demonstrated conclusion, or Attribute essential to a certain genus; (2) The Genus, of which the attributes per se are the matter of demonstration; (3) The Axioms, out of which, or through which, the demonstration is obtained. These Axioms may be and are common to several genera: but the demonstration cannot be transferred from one genus to another; both the extremes as well as the middle term must belong to the same genus. An arithmetical demonstration cannot be transferred to magnitudes and their properties, except in so far as magnitudes are numbers, which is partially true of some among them. The demonstrations in arithmetic may indeed be transferred to harmonics, because harmonics is subordinate to arithmetic; and, for the like reason, demonstrations in geometry may be transferred to mechanics and optics. But we cannot introduce into geometry any property of lines, which does not belong to them quâ lines; such, for example, as that a straight line is the most beautiful of all lines, or is the contrary of a circular line; for these predicates belong to it, not quâ line, but quâ member of a different or more extensive genus.26 There can be no complete demonstration about perishable things, or about any individual line, except in regard to its attributes as member of the genus line. Where the conclusion is not eternally true, but true at one time and not true at another, this can only be because one of its premisses is not universal or essential. Where both premisses are universal and essential, the conclusion must be eternal or eternally true. As there is no demonstration, so also there can be no definition, of perishable attributes.27

For complete demonstration, it is not sufficient that the premisses be true, immediate, and undemonstrable; they must, furthermore, be essential and appropriate to the class in hand. Unless they be such, you cannot be said to know the conclusion absolutely; you know it only by accident. You can only know a conclusion when demonstrated from its own appropriate premisses; and you know it best when it is demonstrated from its highest premisses. It is sometimes difficult to determine whether we really know or not; for we fancy that we know, when we demonstrate from true and universal principia, without being aware whether they are, or are not, the principia appropriate to the case.28 But these principia must always be assumed without demonstration — the class whose essential constituent properties are in question, the universal Axioms, and the Definition or meaning of the attributes to be demonstrated. If these definitions and axioms are not always formally enunciated, it is because we tacitly presume them to be already known and admitted by the learner.29 He may indeed always refuse to grant them in express words, but they are such that he cannot help granting them by internal assent in his mind, to which every syllogism must address itself. When you assume a premiss without demonstrating it, though it be really demonstrable, this, if the learner is favourable and willing to grant it, is an assumption or Hypothesis, valid relatively to him alone, but not valid absolutely: if he is reluctant or adverse, it is a Postulate, which you claim whether he is satisfied or not.30 The Definition by itself is not an hypothesis; for it neither affirms nor denies the existence of anything. The pupil must indeed understand the terms of it; but this alone is not an hypothesis, unless you call the fact that the pupil comes to learn, an hypothesis.31 The Hypothesis or assumption is contained in the premisses, being that by which the reason of the conclusion comes to be true. Some object that the geometer makes a false hypothesis or assumption, when he declares a given line drawn to be straight, or to be a foot long, though it is neither one nor the other. But this objection has no pertinence, since the geometer does not derive his conclusions from what is true of the visible lines drawn before his eyes, but from what is true of the lines conceived in his own mind, and signified or illustrated by the visible diagrams.32

The process of Demonstration neither requires, nor countenances, the Platonic theory of Ideas — universal substances beyond and apart from particulars. But it does require that we should admit universal predications; that is, one and the same predicate truly applicable in the same sense to many different particulars. Unless this be so, there can be no universal major premiss, nor appropriate middle term, nor valid demonstrative syllogism.33

The Maxim or Axiom of Contradiction, in its most general enunciation, is never formally enunciated by any special science; but each of them assumes the Maxim so far as applicable to its own purpose, whenever the Reductio ad Absurdum is introduced.34 It is in this and the other common principles or Axioms that all the sciences find their point of contact and communion; and that Dialectic also comes into communion with all of them, as also the science (First Philosophy) that scrutinizes the validity or demonstrability of the Axioms.35 The dialectician is not confined to any one science, or to any definite subject-matter. His liberty of interrogation is unlimited; but his procedure is essentially interrogatory, and he is bound to accept the answer of the respondent — whatever it be, affirmative or negative — as premiss for any syllogism that he may construct. In this way he can never be sure of demonstrating any thing; for the affirmative and the negative will not be equally serviceable for that purpose. There is indeed also, in discussions on the separate sciences, a legitimate practice of scientific interrogation. Here the questions proper to be put are limited in number, and the answers proper to be made are determined beforehand by the truths of the science — say Geometry; still, an answer thus correctly made will serve to the interrogator as premiss for syllogistic demonstration.36 The respondent must submit to have such answer tested by appeal to geometrical principia and to other geometrical propositions already proved as legitimate conclusions from the principia; if he finds himself involved in contradictions, he is confuted quâ geometer, and must correct or modify his answer. But he is not bound, quâ geometer, to undergo scrutiny as to the geometrical principia themselves; this would carry the dialogue out of the province of Geometry into that of First Philosophy and Dialectic. Care, indeed, must be taken to keep both questions and answers within the limits of the science. Now there can be no security for this restriction, except in the scientific competence of the auditors. Refrain, accordingly, from all geometrical discussions among men ignorant of geometry and confine yourself to geometrical auditors, who alone can distinguish what questions and answers are really appropriate. And what is here said about geometry, is equally true about the other special sciences.37 Answers may be improper either as foreign to the science under debate, or as appertaining to the science, yet false as to the matter, or as equivocal in middle term; though this last is less likely to occur in Geometry, since the demonstrations are accompanied by diagrams, which help to render conspicuous any such ambiguity.38 To an inductive proposition, bringing forward a single case as contributory to an ultimate generalization, no general objection should be offered; the objection should be reserved until the generalization itself is tendered.39 Sometimes the mistake is made of drawing an affirmative conclusion from premisses in the Second figure; this is formally wrong, but the conclusion may in some cases be true, if the major premiss happens to be a reciprocating proposition, having its predicate co-extensive with its subject. This, however, cannot be presumed; nor can a conclusion be made to yield up its principles by necessary reciprocation; for we have already observed that, though the truth of the premisses certifies the truth of the conclusion, we cannot say vice versâ that the truth of the conclusion certifies the truth of the premisses. Yet propositions are more frequently found to reciprocate in scientific discussion than in Dialectic; because, in the former, we take no account of accidental properties, but only of definitions and what follows from them.40

Knowledge of Fact and knowledge of the Cause must be distinguished, and even within the same Science.41 In some syllogisms the conclusion only brings out τὸ ὅτι — the reality of certain facts; in others, it ends in τὸ διότι — the affirmation of a cause, or of the Why. The syllogism of the Why is, where the middle term is not merely the cause, but the proximate cause, of the conclusion. Often, however, the effect is more notorious, so that we employ it as middle term, and conclude from it to its reciprocating cause; in which case our syllogism is only of the ὅτι; and so it is also when we employ as middle term a cause not proximate but remote, concluding from that to the effect.42 Sometimes the syllogisms of the ὅτι may fall under one science, those of the διότι under another, namely, in the case where one science is subordinate to another, as optics to geometry, and harmonics to arithmetic; the facts of optics and harmonics belonging to sense and observation, the causes thereof to mathematical reasoning. It may happen, then, that a man knows τὸ διότι well, but is comparatively ignorant τοῦ ὅτι: the geometer may have paid little attention to optical facts.43 Cognition of the διότι is the maximum, the perfection, of all cognition; and this, comprising arithmetical and geometrical theorems, is almost always attained by syllogisms in the First figure. This figure is the most truly scientific of the three; the other two figures depend upon it for expansion and condensation. It is, besides, the only one in which universal affirmative conclusions can be obtained; for in the Second figure we get only negative conclusions; in the Third, only particular. Accordingly, propositions declaring Essence or Definition, obtained only through universal affirmative conclusions, are yielded in none but the First figure.44

As there are some affirmative propositions that are indivisible, i.e., having affirmative predicates which belong to a subject at once, directly, immediately, indivisibly, — so there are also some indivisible negative propositions, i.e., with predicates that belong negatively to a subject at once, directly, &c. In all such there is no intermediate step to justify either the affirmation of the predicate, or the negation of the predicate, respecting the given subject. This will be the case where neither the predicate nor the subject is contained in any higher genus.45

In regard both to these propositions immediate and indivisible, and to propositions mediate and deducible, there are two varieties of error.46 You may err simply, from ignorance, not knowing better, and not supposing yourself to know at all; or your error may be a false conclusion, deduced by syllogism through a middle term, and accompanied by a belief on your part that you do know. This may happen in different ways. Suppose the negative proposition, No B is A, to be true immediately or indivisibly. Then, if you conclude the contrary of this47 (All B is A) to be true, by syllogism through the middle term C, your syllogism must be in the First figure; it must have the minor premiss false (since B is brought under C, when it is not contained in any higher genus), and it may have both premisses false. Again, suppose the affirmative proposition, All B is A, to be true immediately or indivisibly. Then if you conclude the contrary of this (No B is A) to be true, by syllogism through the middle term C, your syllogism may be in the First figure, but it may also be in the Second figure, your false conclusion being negative. If it be in the First figure, both its premisses may be false, or one of them only may be false, either indifferently.48 If it be in the Second figure, either premiss singly may be wholly false, or both may be partly false.49

Let us next assume the affirmative proposition, All B is A, to be true, but mediate and deducible through the middle term C. If you conclude the contrary of this (No B is A) through the same middle term C, in the First figure, your error cannot arise from falsity in the minor premiss, because your minor (by the laws of the figure) must be affirmative; your error must arise from a false major, because a negative major is not inconsistent with the laws of the First figure. On the other hand, if you conclude the contrary in the First figure through a different middle term, D, either both your premisses will be false, or your minor premiss will be false.50 If you employ the Second figure to conclude your contrary, both your premisses cannot be false, though either one of them singly may be false.51

Such will be the case when the deducible proposition assumed to be true is affirmative, and when therefore the contrary conclusion which you profess to have proved is negative. But if the deducible proposition assumed to be true is negative, and if consequently the contrary conclusion must be affirmative, — then, if you try to prove this contrary through the same middle term, your premisses cannot both be false, but your major premiss must always be false.52 If, however, you try to prove the contrary through a different and inappropriate middle term, you cannot convert the minor premiss to its contrary (because the minor premiss must continue affirmative, in order that you may arrive at any conclusion at all), but the major can be so converted. Should the major premiss thus converted be true, the minor will be false; should the major premiss thus converted be false, the minor may be either true or false. Either one of the premisses, or both the premisses, may thus be false.53

Errors of simple ignorance (not concluded from false syllogism) may proceed from defect or failure of sensible perception, in one or other of its branches. For without sensation there can be no induction; and it is from induction only that the premisses for demonstration by syllogism are obtained. We cannot arrive at universal propositions, even in what are called abstract sciences, except through induction of particulars; nor can we demonstrate except from universals. Induction and Demonstration are the only two ways of learning; and the particulars composing our inductions can only be known through sense.54

Aristotle next proceeds to show (what in previous passages he had assumed)55 that, if Demonstration or the syllogistic process be possible — if there be any truths supposed demonstrable, this implies that there must be primary or ultimate truths. It has been explained that the constituent elements assumed in the Syllogism are three terms and two propositions or premisses; in the major premiss, A is affirmed (or denied) of all B; in the minor, B is affirmed of all C; in the conclusion, A is affirmed (or denied) of all C.56 Now it is possible that there may be some one or more predicates higher than A, but it is impossible that there can be an infinite series of such higher predicates. So also there may be one or more subjects lower than C, and of which C will be the predicate; but it is impossible that there can be an infinite series of such lower subjects. In like manner there may perhaps be one or more middle terms between A and B, and between B and C; but it is impossible that there can be an infinite series of such intervening middle terms. There must be a limit to the series ascending, descending, or intervening.57 These remarks have no application to reciprocating propositions, in which the predicate is co-extensive with the subject.58 But they apply alike to demonstrations negative and affirmative, and alike to all the three figures of Syllogism.59

In Dialectical Syllogism it is enough if the premisses be admitted or reputed as propositions immediately true, whether they are so in reality or not; but in Scientific or Demonstrative Syllogism they must be so in reality: the demonstration is not complete unless it can be traced up to premisses that are thus immediately or directly true (without any intervening middle term).60 That there are and must be such primary or immediate premisses, Aristotle now undertakes to prove, by some dialectical reasons, and other analytical or scientific reasons.61 He himself thus distinguishes them; but the distinction is faintly marked, and amounts, at most, to this, that the analytical reasons advert only to essential predication, and to the conditions of scientific demonstration, while the dialectical reasons dwell upon these, but include something else besides, viz., accidental predication. The proof consists mainly in the declaration that, unless we assume some propositions to be true immediately, indivisibly, undemonstrably, — Definition, Demonstration, and Science would be alike impossible. If the ascending series of predicates is endless, so that we never arrive at a highest generic predicate; if the descending series of subjects is endless, so that we never reach a lowest subject, — no definition can ever be attained. The essential properties included in the definition, must be finite in number; and the accidental predicates must also be finite in number, since they have no existence except as attached to some essential subject, and since they must come under one or other of the nine later Categories.62 If, then, the two extremes are thus fixed and finite — the highest predicate and the lowest subject — it is impossible that there can be an infinite series of terms between the two. The intervening terms must be finite in number. The Aristotelian theory therefore is, that there are certain propositions directly and immediately true, and others derived from them by demonstration through middle terms.63 It is alike an error to assert that every thing can be demonstrated, and that nothing can be demonstrated.

It is plain from Aristotle’s own words64 that he intended these four chapters (xix.-xxii.) as a confirmation of what he had already asserted in chapter iii. of the present treatise, and as farther refutation of the two distinct classes of opponents there indicated: (1) those who said that everything was demonstrable, demonstration in a circle being admissible; (2) those who said that nothing was demonstrable, inasmuch as the train of predication upwards, downwards, and intermediate, was infinite. Both these two classes of opponents agreed in saying, that there were no truths immediate and indemonstrable; and it is upon this point that Aristotle here takes issue with them, seeking to prove that there are and must be such truths. But I cannot think the proof satisfactory; nor has it appeared so to able commentators either of ancient or modern times — from Alexander of Aphrodisias down to Mr. Poste.65 The elaborate amplification added in these last chapters adds no force to the statement already given at the earlier stage; and it is in one respect a change for the worse, inasmuch as it does not advert to the important distinction announced in chapter iii., between universal truths known by Induction (from sense and particulars), and universal truths known by Deduction from these. The truths immediate and indemonstrable (not known through a middle term) are the inductive truths, as Aristotle declares in many places, and most emphatically at the close of the Analytica Posteriora. But in these chapters, he hardly alludes to Induction. Moreover, while trying to prove that there must be immediate universal truths, he neither gives any complete list of them, nor assigns any positive characteristic whereby to identify them. Opponents might ask him whether these immediate universal truths were not ready-made inspirations of the mind; and if so, what better authority they had than the Platonic Ideas, which are contemptuously dismissed.

We have thus recognized that there exist immediate (ultimate or primary) propositions, wherein the conjunction between predicate and subject is such that no intermediate term can be assigned between them. When A is predicated both of B and C, this may perhaps be in consequence of some common property possessed by B and C, and such common property will form a middle term. For example, equality of angles to two right angles belongs both to an isosceles and to a scalene triangle, and it belongs to them by reason of their common property — triangular figure; which last is thus the middle term. But this need not be always the case.66 It is possible that the two propositions — A predicated of B, A predicated of C — may both of them be immediate propositions; and that there may be no community of nature between B and C. Whenever a middle term can be found, demonstration is possible; but where no middle term can be found, demonstration is impossible. The proposition, whether affirmative or negative, is then an immediate or indivisible one. Such propositions, and the terms of which they are composed, are the ultimate elements or principia of Demonstration. Predicate and subject are brought constantly into closer and closer conjunction, until at last they become one and indivisible.67 Here we reach the unit or element of the syllogizing process. In all scientific calculations there is assumed an unit to start from, though in each branch of science it is a different unit; e.g. in barology, the pound-weight; in harmonics, the quarter-tone; in other branches of science, other units.68 Analytical research teaches us that the corresponding unit in Syllogism is the affirmative or negative proposition which is primary, immediate, indivisible. In Demonstration and Science it is the Noûs or Intellect.69

Having thus, in the long preceding reasoning, sought to prove that all demonstration must take its departure from primary undemonstrable principia — from some premisses, affirmative and negative, which are directly true in themselves, and not demonstrable through any middle term or intervening propositions, Aristotle now passes to a different enquiry. We have some demonstrations in which the conclusion is Particular, others in which it is Universal: again, some Affirmative, some Negative, Which of the two, in each of these alternatives, is the best? We have also demonstrations Direct or Ostensive, and demonstrations Indirect or by way of Reductio ad Absurdum. Which of these two is the best? Both questions appear to have been subjected to debate by contemporary philosophers.70

Aristotle discusses these points dialectically (as indeed he points out in the Topica that the comparison of two things generally, as to better and worse, falls under the varieties of dialectical enquiry71), first stating and next refuting the arguments on the weaker side. Some persons may think (he says) that demonstration of the Particular is better than demonstration of the Universal: first, because it conducts to fuller cognition of that which the thing is in itself, and not merely that which it is quatenus member of a class; secondly, because demonstrations of the Universal are apt to generate an illusory belief, that the Universal is a distinct reality apart from and independent of all its particulars (i.e., that figure in general has a real existence apart from all particular figures, and number in general apart from all particular numbers, &c.), while demonstrations of the Particular do not lead to any such illusion.72

To these arguments Aristotle replies:— 1. It is not correct to say that cognition of the Particular is more complete, or bears more upon real existence, than cognition of the Universal. The reverse would be nearer to the truth. To know that the isosceles, quatenus triangle, has its three angles equal to two right angles, is more complete cognition than knowing simply that the isosceles has its three angles equal to two right angles. 2. If the Universal be not an equivocal term — if it represents one property and one definition common to many particulars, it then has a real existence as much or more than any one or any number of the particulars. For all these particulars are perishable, but the class is imperishable. 3. He who believes that the universal term has one meaning in all the particulars, need not necessarily believe that it has any meaning apart from all particulars; he need not believe this about Quiddity, any more than he believes it about Quality or Quantity. Or if he does believe so, it is his own individual mistake, not imputable to the demonstration. 4. We have shown that a complete demonstration is one in which the middle term is the cause or reason of the conclusion. Now the Universal is most of the nature of Cause; for it represents the First Essence or the Per Se, and is therefore its own cause, or has no other cause behind it. The demonstration of the Universal has thus more of the Cause or the Why, and is therefore better than the demonstration of the Particular. 5. In the Final Cause or End of action, there is always some ultimate end for the sake of which the intermediate ends are pursued, and which, as it is better than they, yields, when it is known, the only complete explanation of the action. So it is also with the Formal Cause: there is one highest form which contains the Why of the subordinate forms, and the knowledge of which is therefore better; as when, for example, the exterior angles of a given isosceles triangle are seen to be equal to four right angles, not because it is isosceles or triangle, but because it is a rectilineal figure. 6. Particulars, as such, fall into infinity of number, and are thus unknowable; the Universal tends towards oneness and simplicity, and is thus essentially knowable, more fully demonstrable than the infinity of particulars. The demonstration thereof is therefore better. 7. It is also better, on another ground; for he that knows the Universal does in a certain sense know also the Particular;73 but he that knows the Particular cannot be said in any sense to know the Universal. 8. The principium or perfection of cognition is to be found in the immediate proposition, true per se. When we demonstrate, and thus employ a middle term, the nearer the middle term approaches to that principium, the better the demonstration is. The demonstration of the Universal is thus better and more accurate than that of the Particular.74

Such are the several reasons enumerated by Aristotle in refutation of the previous opinion stated in favour of the Particular. Evidently he does not account them all of equal value: he intimates that some are purely dialectical (λογικά); and he insists most upon the two following:— 1. He that knows the Universal knows in a certain sense the Particular; if he knows that every triangle has its three angles equal to two right angles, he knows potentially that the isosceles has its three angles equal to the same, though he may not know as yet that the isosceles is a triangle. But he that knows the Particular does not in any way know the Universal, either actually or potentially.75 2. The Universal is apprehended by Intellect or Noûs, the highest of all cognitive powers; the Particular terminates in sensation. Here, I presume, he means, that, in demonstration of the Particular, the conclusion teaches you nothing more than you might have learnt from a direct observation of sense; whereas in that of the Universal the conclusion teaches you more than you could have learnt from direct sensation, and comes into correlation with the highest form of our intellectual nature.76

Next, Aristotle compares the Affirmative with the Negative demonstration, and shows that the Affirmative is the better. Of two demonstrations (he lays it down) that one which proceeds upon a smaller number of postulates, assumptions, or propositions, is better than the other; for, to say nothing of other reasons, it conducts you more speedily to knowledge than the other, and that is an advantage. Now, both in the affirmative and in the negative syllogism, you must have three terms and two propositions; but in the affirmative you assume only that something is; while in the negative you assume both that something is, and that something is not. Here is a double assumption instead of a single; therefore the negative is the worse or inferior of the two.77 Moreover, for the demonstration of a negative conclusion, you require one affirmative premiss (since from two negative premisses nothing whatever can be concluded); while for the demonstration of an affirmative conclusion, you must have two affirmative premisses, and you cannot admit a negative. This, again, shows that the affirmative is logically prior, more trustworthy, and better than the negative.78 The negative is only intelligible and knowable through the affirmative, just as Non-Ens is knowable only through Ens. The affirmative demonstration therefore, as involving better principles, is, on this ground also, better than the negative.79 A fortiori, it is also better than the demonstration by way of Reductio ad Absurdum, which was the last case to be considered. This, as concluding only indirectly and from impossibility of the contradictory, is worse even than the negative; much more therefore is it worse than the direct affirmative.80

If we next compare one Science with another, the prior and more accurate of the two is, (1) That which combines at once the ὅτι and the διότι; (2) That which is abstracted from material conditions, as compared with that which is immersed therein — for example, arithmetic is more accurate than harmonics; (3) The more simple as compared with the more complex: thus, arithmetic is more accurate than geometry, a monad or unit is a substance without position, whereas a point (more concrete) is a substance with position.81 One and the same science is that which belongs to one and the same generic subject-matter. The premisses of a demonstration must be included in the same genus with the conclusion; and where the ultimate premisses are heterogeneous, the cognition derived from them must be considered as not one but a compound of several.82 You may find two or more distinct middle terms for demonstrating the same conclusion; sometimes out of the same logical series or table, sometimes out of different tables.83

There cannot be demonstrative cognition of fortuitous events,84 for all demonstration is either of the necessary or of the customary. Nor can there be demonstrative cognition through sensible perception. For though by sense we perceive a thing as such and such (through its sensible qualities), yet we perceive it inevitably as hoc aliquid, hic, et nunc. But the Universal cannot be perceived by sense; for it is neither hic nor nunc, but semper et ubique.85 Now demonstrations are all accomplished by means of the Universal, and demonstrative cognition cannot therefore be had through sensible perception. If the equality of the three angles of a triangle to two right angles were a fact directly perceivable by sense, we should still have looked out for a demonstration thereof: we should have no proper scientific cognition of it (though some persons contend for this): for sensible perception gives us only particular cases, and Cognition or Science proper comes only through knowing the Universal.86 If, being on the surface of the moon, we had on any one occasion seen the earth between us and the sun, we could not have known from that single observation that such interposition is the cause universally of eclipses. We cannot directly by sense perceive the Universal, though sense is the principium of the Universal. By multiplied observation of sensible particulars, we can hunt out and elicit the Universal, enunciate it clearly and separately, and make it serve for demonstration.87 The Universal is precious, because it reveals the Cause or διότι, and is therefore more precious, not merely than sensible observation, but also than intellectual conception of the ὅτι only, where the Cause or διότι lies apart, and is derived from a higher genus. Respecting First Principles or Summa Genera, we must speak elsewhere.88 It is clear, therefore, that no demonstrable matter can be known, properly speaking, from direct perception of sense; though there are cases in which nothing but the impossibility of direct observation drives us upon seeking for demonstration. Whenever we can get an adequate number of sensible observations, we can generalize the fact; and in some instances we may perhaps not seek for any demonstrative knowledge (i.e. to explain it by any higher principle). If we could see the pores in glass and the light passing through them, we should learn through many such observations why combustion arises on the farther side of the glass; each of our observations would have been separate and individual, but we should by intellect generalize the result that all the cases fall under the same law.89

Aristotle next proceeds to refute, at some length, the supposition, that the principia of all syllogisms are the same. We see at once that this cannot be so, because some syllogisms are true, others false. But, besides, though there are indeed a few Axioms essential to the process of demonstration, and the same in all syllogisms, yet these are not sufficient of themselves for demonstration. There must farther be other premisses or matters of evidence — propositions immediately true (or established by prior demonstrations) belonging to each branch of Science specially, as distinguished from the others. Our demonstration relates to these special matters or premisses, though it is accomplished out of or by means of the common Axioms.90

Science or scientific Cognition differs from true Opinion, and the cognitum from the opinatum, herein, that Science is of the Universal, and through necessary premisses which cannot be otherwise; while Opinion relates to matters true, yet which at the same time may possibly be false. The belief in a proposition which is immediate (i. e., undemonstrable) yet not necessary, is Opinion; it is not Science, nor is it Noûs or Intellect — the principium of Science or scientific Cognition. Such beliefs are fluctuating, as we see every day; we all distinguish them from other beliefs, which we cannot conceive not to be true and which we call cognitions.91 But may there not be Opinion and Cognition respecting the same matters? There may be (says Aristotle) in different men, or in the same man at different times; but not in the same man at the same time. There may also be, respecting the same matter, true opinion in one man’s mind, and false opinion in the mind of another.92

With some remarks upon Sagacity, or the power of divining a middle term in a time too short for reflection (as when the friendship of two men is on the instant referred to the fact of their having a common enemy), the present book is brought to a close.93