ses, but clearly, each by itself. At
the bar of His tribunal no one is answerable for another; each answers
for himself alone; one is responsible only for one's own acts. But those
acts are of infinite consequence, for the soul, redeemed by the blood of
a God, is of immeasurable value; hence, according as it has or has not
profited by the divine sacrifice, so will the reward or punishment be
infinite; at the final judgment, an eternity of torment or bliss opens
before it. All other interests vanish alongside of a vision of such
vastness. Thenceforth, righteousness is the most serious of all aims,
not in the eyes of man, but of God and again, day after day, the
soul renews within itself that tragic questioning in which the Judge
interrogates and the sinner responds.--Through this dialogue, which
has been going on for eighteen centuries, and which is yet to continue,
conscience has grown more and more sensitive, and man has conceived
the idea of absolute justice. Whether this is vested in an all-powerful
master, or whether it is a self-existent truth, like mathematical
truths, in no way diminishes its sacredness nor, consequently, from its
authority. It commands with a superior voice and its commands must be
obeyed, irrespective of cost: there are strict duties to which every man
is rigorously bound. No pledge may relieve him of these duties; if not
fulfilled because he has given contrary pledges he is no less culpable
on this account, and besides, he is culpable for having pledged himself;
the pledging of himself to crimes was in itself a crime. His fault thus
appears to himself twofold, and the inward prick galls him twice instead
of once. Hence, the more sensitive the conscience, the more loath it is
to give up; it rejects any promise which may lead to wrong-doing, and
refuses to give to give others any right of imposing remorse.

At the same time another sentiment has arisen, not less valuable, but
hardier, more energetic, more human and more effective. On his own in
his stronghold, the feudal chieftain, at the head of his band, could
depend on nobody but himself, for a public force did not then exist. It
was necessary that he should protect himself, and, indeed, over-protect
himself. Whoever, in the anarchical and military society in which
he lived, allowed the slightest encroachment, or left unpunished the
slightest approach to insult, was regarded as weak or craven and at once
became a prey; one had to be proud-spir