Furthermore, man, as a social being, is very ready to accept the estimate of his actions placed upon them by his fellows.  It is not easy to resist public opinion now.  The tie of class or professional feeling is a tremendous power for good and evil.  It must have been almost irresistible in that primitive army, which summarily outlawed or killed the obstinately disobedient.  But all obedience was lauded and rewarded.  It had to be so.  And if the tribe was worthy to survive, because its regulations were better than those of its rivals, or perhaps as nearly just and right as were well possible, it was altogether best and right it should be so.  The voice of the people was, in a very rude, stammering way, the voice of God.  And those who survived became more and more obedient, and found themselves, when disobedient, feeling debased, and mean, and unworthy, as their fellows considered them.  And all this feeling tended to develop a conscience in the individual answering to the estimates and regulations of the community.

And remember that the primitive religion is a tribal religion.  The gods felt toward a man just as his neighbors did.  A public opinion of this sort is irresistible, and a man’s conscience and estimate of himself and his actions must conform to it.  But you may say a man may grant that this opinion is in a sense irresistible, and find himself very miserable and unhappy under its condemnation.  But he would not feel remorse; this is a very different feeling.  Possibly it may be.  I am not so sure.  But what I am interested in maintaining is that the condemnation of one’s fellow-men puts more vividly before one’s eyes, and emphasizes, the condemnation of one’s own self.  It may often be a necessary step in self-conviction.  And what is most important, even in our own case, the condemnation of our fellows often brings with it self-condemnation.

Try the experiment, as you will some day, of following a course of action which you feel fairly confident is right, but which all your neighbors think is foolish and wrong.  See if you do not feel twinges within you which you must examine very closely to distinguish from twinges of conscience.  If you do not, I see but one explanation—­you are conscious that God is with you, and content with this majority.  But in the case of primitive man God was always on the side of one’s tribe.

Now this does not explain the origin of man’s conception of right; it presupposes such a conception in some dim form.  I do not now know why right is right or beauty beautiful.  I only know they are so.  Where or when either of these perceptions dawned I do not know.  But, given some such dim perception, I believe that primitive human society gave it its iron grip on every fibre of man’s nature.