The puzzle was solved when Spencer showed that intuition is a result of the experience of the race. Courage, for instance, was so important for the survival of a primitive tribe in the struggle against its neighbours, that every man found his comfort and reputation depend mainly on his prowess. If he fought desperately he gained wealth, honour, and plenty of wives; but cowards were maltreated by other men and scorned even by the women. The bravest man left the largest number of offspring; and every boy was told so early and earnestly to be courageous as to develop a pugnacious instinct, which has come down to the present day in much greater strength than is needed for the ordinary demands of civilised life. We love war too much, because our ancestors were in danger of not loving it enough for their own safety. As courage ceased to be the one all-important excellence, industry, fidelity, and honesty were found so useful as to be encouraged with a care which has done much to mould conscience into its present shape. Other virtues were inculcated in the same way. The welfare of the family was found to depend largely on the fidelity of wife to husband; and the result was that chastity has held a much higher place in the feminine than in the masculine conscience. So our religious instincts owe much of their strength to the zeal with which our ancestors sought to avert the divine wrath. Thus we have ideas which were originally only vague inferences from primitive experience, but which have gradually gained such strength and definiteness, that they have much more power than if we had thought them out unaided by the past. Spencer himself says, "There have been, and still are, developing in the race certain fundamental moral intuitions" which "are the results of accumulated experiences of utility, gradually organised and inherited," but "have come to be quite independent of conscious experience." They "have no apparent basis in the individual experiences of utility"; and thus conscience has acquired its characteristic disinterestedness. When we feel this inner prompting to a brave or honest action which must be done promptly or left undone, it is our duty to act without hesitation or regard to our own interest. We are serving our race in the way which its experience has taught. Suppose, however, that there is time enough for deliberation, and that we see a possibility of harm to our neighbours, our family, or even to our own highest welfare. In this case, we ought to compare the good and evil results carefully. We should also do well to consider what was the decision of the consciences of the best and wisest men under similar circumstances. If we neglect these precautions, we may be in danger of following not conscience but passion. There is also a possibility that conscience may embody only such primitive ideas of duty as have since been found incorrect. This has often been the case with persecutors and monarchists.