The limitations as well as the uses of Aristotle's logic may be traced to the circumstances of its origin. Both parties to the disputation, Questioner and Respondent alike, were mainly concerned with the inter-dependence of the propositions put forward. Once the Respondent had given his assent to a question, he was bound in consistency to all that it implied. He must take all the consequences of his admission. It might be true or it might be false as a matter of fact: all the same he was bound by it: its truth or falsehood was immaterial to his position as a disputant. On the other hand, the Questioner could not go beyond the admissions of the Respondent. It has often been alleged as a defect in the Syllogism that the conclusion does not go beyond the premisses, and ingenious attempts have been made to show that it is really an advance upon the premisses. But having regard to the primary use of the syllogism, this was no defect, but a necessary character of the relation. The Questioner could not in fairness assume more than had been granted by implication. His advance could only be an argumentative advance: if his conclusion contained a grain more than was contained in the premisses, it was a sophistical trick, and the Respondent could draw back and withhold his assent. He was bound in consistency to stand by his admissions; he was not bound to go a fraction of an inch beyond them.
We thus see how vain it is to look to the Aristotelian tradition for an organon of truth or a criterion of falsehood. Directly and primarily, at least, it was not so; the circumstances of its origin gave it a different bent. Indirectly and secondarily, no doubt, it served this purpose, inasmuch as truth was the aim of all serious thinkers who sought to clear their minds and the minds of others by Dialectic. But in actual debate truth was represented merely by the common-sense of the audience. A dialectician who gained a triumph by outraging this, however cleverly he might outwit his antagonist, succeeded only in amusing his audience, and dialecticians of the graver sort aimed at more serious uses and a more respectful homage, and did their best to discountenance merely eristic disputation. Further, it would be a mistake to conclude because Aristotle's Logic, as an instrument of Dialectic, concerned itself with the syllogism of propositions rather than their truth, that it was merely an art of quibbling. On the contrary, it was essentially the art of preventing and exposing quibbling. It had its origin in quibbling, no doubt, inasmuch as what we should call verbal quibbling was of the essence of Yes-and-No Dialectic, and the main secret of its charm for an intellectual and disputatious people; but it came into being as a safeguard against quibbling, not a serviceable adjunct.
The mediæval developments of Logic retained and even exaggerated the syllogistic character of the original treatises. Interrogative dialectic had disappeared in the Middle Ages whether as a diversion or as a discipline: but errors of inconsistency still remained the errors against which principally educated men needed a safeguard. Men had to keep their utterances in harmony with the dogmas of the Church. A clear hold of the exact implications of a proposition, whether singly or in combination with other propositions, was still an important practical need. The Inductive Syllogism was not required, and its treatment dwindled to insignificance in mediæval text-books, but the Deductive Syllogism and the formal apparatus for the definition of terms held the field.
It was when observation of Nature and its laws became a paramount pursuit that the defects of Syllogistic Logic began to be felt. Errors against which this Logic offered no protection then called for a safeguard—especially the errors to which men are liable in the investigation of cause and effect. "Bring your thoughts into harmony one with another," was the demand of Aristotle's age. "Bring your thoughts into harmony with authority," was the demand of the Middle Ages. "Bring them into harmony with fact," was the requirement most keenly felt in more recent times. It is in response to this demand that what is commonly but not very happily known as Inductive Logic has been formulated.
In obedience to custom, I shall follow the now ordinary division of Logic into Deductive and Inductive. The titles are misleading in many ways, but they are fixed by a weight of usage which it would be vain to try to unsettle. Both come charging down the stream of time each with its cohort of doctrines behind it, borne forward with irresistible momentum.
The best way of preventing confusion now is to retain the established titles, recognise that the doctrines behind each have a radically different aim or end, and supply the interpretation of this end from history. What they have in common may be described as the prevention of error, the organisation of reason against error. I have shown that owing to the bent impressed upon it by the circumstances of its origin, the errors chiefly safeguarded by the Aristotelian logic were the errors of inconsistency. The other branch of Logic, commonly called Induction, was really a separate evolution, having its origin in a different practical need. The history of this I will trace separately after we have seen our way through the Aristotelian tradition and its accretions. The Experimental Methods are no less manifestly the germ, the evolutionary centre or starting-point, of the new Logic than the Syllogism is of the old, and the main errors safeguarded are errors of fact and inference from fact.
At this stage it will be enough to indicate briefly the broad relations between Deductive Logic and Inductive Logic.
Inductive Logic, as we now understand it—the Logic of Observation and Explanation—was first formulated and articulated to a System of Logic by J. S. Mill. It was he that added this wing to the old building. But the need of it was clearly expressed as early as the thirteenth century. Roger Bacon, the Franciscan friar (1214–1292), and not his more illustrious namesake Francis, Lord Verulam, was the real founder of Inductive Logic. It is remarkable that the same century saw Syllogistic Logic advanced to its most complete development in the system of Petrus Hispanus, a Portuguese scholar who under the title of John XXI. filled the Papal Chair for eight months in 1276–7.
A casual remark of Roger Bacon's in the course of his advocacy of Experimental Science in the Opus Majus draws a clear line between the two branches of Logic. "There are," he says, "two ways of knowing, by Argument and by Experience. Argument concludes a question, but it does not make us feel certain, unless the truth be also found in experience."
On this basis the old Logic may be clearly distinguished from the new, taking as the general aim of Logic the protection of the mind against the errors to which it is liable in the acquisition of knowledge.
All knowledge, broadly speaking, comes either from Authority, i.e., by argument from accepted premisses, or from Experience. If it comes from Authority it comes through the medium of words: if it comes from Experience it comes through the senses. In taking in knowledge through words we are liable to certain errors; and in taking in knowledge through the senses we are liable to certain errors. To protect against the one is the main end of "Deductive" Logic: to protect against the other is the main end of "Inductive" Logic. As a matter of fact the pith of treatises on Deduction and Induction is directed to those ends respectively, the old meanings of Deduction and Induction as formal processes (to be explained afterwards) being virtually ignored.
There is thus no antagonism whatever between the two branches of Logic. They are directed to different ends. The one is supplementary to the other. The one cannot supersede the other.
Aristotelian Logic can never become superfluous as long as men are apt to be led astray by words. Its ultimate business is to safeguard in the interpretation of the tradition of language. The mere syllogistic, the bare forms of equivalent or consistent expression, have a very limited utility, as we shall see. But by cogent sequence syllogism leads to proposition, and proposition to term, and term to a close study of the relations between words and thoughts and things.
Footnote 1: We know for certain—and it is one of the evidences of the importance attached to this trivial-looking pastime—that two of the great teacher's logical treatises, the Topics and the Sophistical Refutations, were written especially for the guidance of Questioners and Respondents. The one instructs the disputant how to qualify himself methodically for discussion before an ordinary audience, when the admissions extracted from the respondent are matters of common belief, the questioner's skill being directed to make it appear that the