Here it will be of most use to sketch the psychological groundwork of primitive morality, as contrasted with morality of the more advanced type.  In pursuance of the plan hitherto followed, let us try to move yet another step on from the purely exterior view of human life towards our goal; which is to appreciate the true inwardness of human life—­so far at least as this is matter for anthropology, which reaches no farther than the historic method can take it.

It is, of course, open to question whether either primitive or advanced morality is sufficiently of one piece to allow, as it were, a composite photograph to be framed of either.  For our present purposes, however, this expedient is so serviceable as to be worth risking.  Let us assume, then, that there are two main stages in the historical evolution of society, as considered from the standpoint of the psychology of conduct.  I propose to term them the synnomic and the syntelic phases of society.  “Synnomic” (from the Greek nomos, custom) means that customs are shared.  “Syntelic” (from the Greek telos, end) means that ends are shared.

The synnomic phase is, from the psychological point of view, a kingdom of habit; the syntelic phase is a kingdom of reflection.  The former is governed by a subconscious selection of its standards of good and bad; the latter by a conscious selection of its standards.  It remains to show very briefly how such a difference comes about.

The outstanding fact about the synnomic life of the ruder peoples is perhaps this—­that there is hardly any privacy.  Of course, many other drawbacks must be taken into account also—­no wide-thrown communications, no analytic language, no writing, no books, and so on; but perhaps being in a crowd all the time is the worst drawback of all.  For, as Disraeli says in Sybil, gregariousness is not association.  Constant herding and huddling together hinders the development of personality.  That independence of character which is the prime condition of syntelic society cannot mature, even though the germs be there.  No one has 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.”