a chance of withdrawing into his own
soul. Therefore the individual does not experience that silent
conversation with self which is reflection. Instead of turning inwards,
he turns outwards. In short, he imitates.

But how, it may be objected, does evolution take place, if every one
imitates every one else? Certainly, it looks at first sight like a
vicious circle. Nevertheless, there is room for a certain progress,
or at any rate for a certain process of change. To analyse its
psychological springs would take us too long. If a phrase will do
instead of an explanation, we may sum them up, with the brilliant French
psychologist, Tarde, as "a cross-fertilization of imitations." We need
not, however, go far to get an impression of how this process of change
works. It is going on every day in our midst under the name of "change
of fashion." When one purchases the latest thing in ties or straw hats,
one is not aiming at a rational form of dress. If there is progress
in this direction, it is subconscious. The underlying spiritual
condition is not inaptly described by Dr. Lloyd Morgan as "a
sheep-through-the-gapishness."

From a moral point of view, this lack of capacity for private judgment
is equivalent to a want of moral freedom. We have seen how relatively
external are the sanctions of savage life. This does not mean, of course,
that there is no answering judgment in the mind of the individual when
he follows his customs. He says, "It is the custom; therefore it is
right." But this judgment can scarcely be said to proceed from a truly
judging, that is to say, critical, self. The man watches his neighbours,
taking his cue from them. His judgment is a judgment of sense. He does
not look inwards to principle. A moral principle is a standard that
can, by means of thought, be transferred from one sensible situation
to another sensible situation. The general law, and its application
to the situation present now to the senses, are considered apart,
before being put together. Consequently, a possible application,
however strongly suggested by custom, fashion, the action of one's
neighbours, one's own impulse or prejudice, or what not, can be
resisted, if it appear on reflection not to be really suited to the
circumstances. In short, in order to be rational and "put two and two
together," one must be able to entertain two and two as distinct
conceptions. Perceptions, on the contrary, can only be compared in
the lump. Just as in t