It is easy to get into the way of thinking that the denotation of a word—­the things which it names—­is the only part of its meaning that counts; but with many words the connotation—­I use the word in the rhetorical rather than in the logical sense, to include its implications, associations, and general emotional coloring—­has more effect on human nature.  There is a good deal of difference between telling a man that his assertion is “incorrect,” “untrue,” or “false”; if you use the last and he is at all choleric you may bring on an explosion.  In argument, where you are aiming to persuade as well as to convince, the question of the feelings of your audience and how they will be affected by the terms you use is obviously of great importance.  And if you are using such terms as “gentleman,” “political honesty,” “socialist,” “coeducation,” you must not forget that such words have a definite emotional connotation, which will vary largely with the reader.

47.  Begging the Question.  The fallacy of “begging the question” consists of assuming as true something that the other side would not admit.  It is especially insidious in the condensed arguments of which I spoke a few pages back.  A common form of the fallacy consists of slipping in an epithet which quietly takes for granted one’s own view of the question, or of using some expression that assumes one’s own view as correct.  For example, in an argument for a change in a city government, to declare that all intelligent citizens favor it would be begging the question.  In an argument for the protection of crows, to begin, “Few people know how many of these useful birds are killed each year,” would be to beg the question, since the argument turns on whether crows are useful or not.  A gross and uncivil form of this fallacy is to use opprobrious epithets in describing persons who take the other view, as in the following sentence from an article in a magazine on the question of examinations for entrance to college: 

As for interest and variety, what could destroy and taboo both more effectually than the rigid and rigorous demands of a formal set of examinations prepared, as a rule, by pedantic specialists who know practically nothing of the fundamental problems and needs of the high school.

Begging the question is often committed in the course of defining terms, as in the following passage from Cardinal Newman’s “Idea of a University”: 

It is the fashion just now, as you very well know, to erect so-called Universities, without making any provision in them at all for Theological chairs.  Institutions of this kind exist both here [Ireland] and in England.  Such a procedure, though defended by writers of the generation just passed with much plausible argument and not a little wit, seems to me an intellectual absurdity; and my reason For saying so runs, with whatever abruptness, into the form of a syllogism:—­A University, I should lay down, by its very name professes