statement; but our opponent's argument appears to refute it.
Should we abandon our position at once, we may discover later on
that we were right after all; the proof we offered was false, but
nevertheless there was a proof for our statement which was true. The
argument which would have been our salvation did not occur to us at
the moment. Hence we make it a rule to attack a counter-argument, even
though to all appearances it is true and forcible, in the belief that
its truth is only superficial, and that in the course of the dispute
another argument will occur to us by which we may upset it, or succeed
in confirming the truth of our statement. In this way we are almost
compelled to become dishonest; or, at any rate, the temptation to do
so is very great. Thus it is that the weakness of our intellect and
the perversity of our will lend each other mutual support; and that,
generally, a disputant fights not for truth, but for his proposition,
as though it were a battle _pro aris et focis_. He sets to work _per
fas et nefas_; nay, as we have seen, he cannot easily do otherwise.
As a rule, then, every man will insist on maintaining whatever he
has said, even though for the moment he may consider it false or
doubtful.[1]

[Footnote 1: Machiavelli recommends his Prince to make use of every
moment that his neighbour is weak, in order to attack him; as
otherwise his neighbour may do the same. If honour and fidelity
prevailed in the world, it would be a different matter; but as these
are qualities not to be expected, a man must not practise them
himself, because he will meet with a bad return. It is just the same
in a dispute: if I allow that my opponent is right as soon as he seems
to be so, it is scarcely probable that he will do the same when the
position is reversed; and as he acts wrongly, I am compelled to act
wrongly too. It is easy to say that we must yield to truth, without
any prepossession in favour of our own statements; but we cannot
assume that our opponent will do it, and therefore we cannot do
it either. Nay, if I were to abandon the position on which I had
previously bestowed much thought, as soon as it appeared that he was
right, it might easily happen that I might be misled by a momentary
impression, and give up the truth in order to accept an error.]

To some extent every man is armed against such a procedure by his own
cunning and villainy. He learns by daily experience, and thus comes
to have his own _nat