God, such God as we know of now, like all other things and beings on this terrestrial globe was evolved very, very slowly in the minds of man—crude, ill-shapen, ill-fashioned, grotesque, barbarous, savage, semi-civilized: harmonizing with his existing mental condition and all his surroundings; a product of man’s rudeness, of his uncultured nature, his inexperienced special senses, with his nervous system just emerging from an instinctive animal life to a grade or two above its former intelligence—the first step towards real humanity.

God was not always presented to humanity in his present guise. Oh, no; everyone with a moderate degree of intelligence who chooses to examine the records will find that God has undergone vast and important changes—changes in tendencies and character, conforming with the progressive or retrogressive forms of political and social life of the various communities, corresponding with the periods of the time in which they lived.

The idea, in its primary conception, was slowly evolved, without special meaning or signification, dark, mysterious, incomprehensible. We may say, however, that this idea of God was endowed with characteristics best known to men, but of a higher quality than ordinarily then existing; largely reflecting their makers, an embodiment of their own powers and capabilities.

There was a time, no matter how remote, when there were creatures resembling the present form of man but of inferior nervous development, that had no knowledge of either God or religion.

Nor had man in those ages any more intelligence than he had acquired by experience, or was necessary for his immediate use. It improved as the exigencies of his wants arose, fresh experience leading to new observations, slowly adding to the already accumulated stock.

The intelligence of to-day would have been useless a hundred years ago, to the same race even, and of less use still two hundred years ago, and so on.

It is very doubtful whether man at first was even conscious of his own existence, any more than the higher type of brute life. This consciousness slowly dawned upon him as his intelligence increased. A child is not conscious of its own existence. It exists so long as the necessary material is contributed towards its existence, or until it has grown strong enough to contribute towards its own. It may after a while acquire intelligence sufficient to become conscious of its own existence or not. The same rule holds good among the types of man such as we find on earth at the present time.

During the early stages of man’s existence, the muscular powers were exercised most, we may say almost exclusively, the special senses serving in their function as a guide for those powers, with the degree of intelligence obtained from the number of impressions received. These senses had acquired their several experiences from the necessities that from time to time were made manifest.

There are writers who make use of extraordinary expressions in regard to nature, as for example, that Nature is mighty, beautiful, wise, etc.

Nature is mighty only under certain conditions. Peculiar combinations of elements are essential. The presence or absence of the sun’s heat plays always an important part.

Nature’s being beautiful depends largely upon the education of the senses, the capability of discerning symmetry, harmony, color, etc., and this is acquired by comparison, taste, and habit. What strikes one eye as beautiful, may have just a contrary effect on another, or be passed with perfect indifference by a third.

As to wisdom, nature can be wise only through a cultured, well-educated, evenly balanced mind. The expression is applicable only to man. Wisdom is a particular quality eminently and evidently the product of a highly trained nervous system.

It is not an easy task at the present time to unravel the mental process of the earliest races of man that first led to the formation and the adoption of the idea that something existed more potent and more powerful than themselves.

Yet if we carefully examine the mental condition of some of the wild, barbarous nations existing at the present time, we may infer, with a reasonable degree of accuracy, the mental process the earliest races of man were capable of.

Races or tribes, no matter how low in the scale of civilization, that were perfectly secure in their possessions, amply provided by nature against the encroachments of other races, man or animals, existed right along perfectly content, exerting themselves just enough to gather in those substances which they found contributive to the sustenance of their lives. The surplus time was spent in gamboling, frisking, playing, amusing themselves in their primitive condition like children of nature as they were. Progress they made none. There was no occasion for it. Their senses were exercised to the extent of their immediate wants and no more. The natural head of the family or tribe was the oldest, the father. He controlled or governed his descendants. So long as the father was able to exercise his supreme power he was the recognized head, adviser, leader, etc. While in this condition, the primitive customs, habits, or usages practiced in their natural mode of living began, and continued with very few changes for ages.

Their language was as simple and crude as their mode of life, just sufficient for their wants. This mode of communication originated mainly from the necessities of life, as hunger, danger, pleasure, protection, surprise, fear, etc. For all these they found expressions, sounds that conveyed the notions to one another, quite intelligible among themselves. They adopted names for things and beings with which they came in contact in their daily lives, and for such instruments, utensils, and clothing as they from time to time invented or discovered by accident. The sounds that expressed their immediate necessity of communicating with one another, their wants—the cries of call, pain, etc.—had no form in particular, no grammatical construction, no rules. Their emotions and passions were limited, because they knew no wants, no conflicts, other than those that arise from feelings inspired by their five senses. And they really had language enough for all purposes—suitable and ample for their condition in life.

Arts and sciences they had none. Their simple domestic arrangements were as primitive as they were. Their furniture consisted of little or nothing. Cooking utensils they needed none. There was no occasion to cook; nature’s food was ample. This they collected, selected, and fed upon.

Clothing they had no use for, in the warm climate they lived in. They were clad in nature’s garb, male and female alike. Innocence and virtue was well understood among them. They were moral in their way, committed no wrong—there was no occasion for it. There was plenty for everyone. The larders of nature were free, open, and plentiful. Therefore all were satisfied and happy.

Wealth or property they had. All they surveyed was theirs. What belonged to one belonged to the other. Mine and thine was unknown. The more civilized qualifications of property right developed many centuries later.

Commerce they knew nothing of. There was no need for that, since furniture, utensils, implements of agriculture, weapons, clothing of any kind, they had no use for.

They had no laws—nor law-makers, nor justices, nor judges, nor any officials known in later times.

And what is more, they had no God, or idol, or myth, or symbol, or worship, or prayer or religion, or soul, or spirit. Nor did they know anything about what we indicate by the epithets physical or metaphysical, neither theological nor psychological, neither gnostic nor agnostic.

They did not know of any of those things. These were evolved and invented later, as the necessities and exigencies arose, as their wants increased, and circumstances changed from internal to external conditions.

Consequently, their language was limited. They made use of a limited number of words, or produced articulate sound enough to express just what they wanted, and no more. They may have had two or three hundred different words or sounds in use. We have men to-day among us that have not many more words at command, and their ideas generally correspond in number and quality to their stock of words.

The stock of words and the stock of ideas always depend upon the amount of experience and the amount of exercise the five senses have had; together with the urgencies and difficulties they have had to contend with. The power of observation is developed in accordance as the opportunities arise.

Each particular special sense develops its own faculties, from the practice, use, and experience of that sense, the role it is called upon to play as necessities arise. And as each object is perceived or observed by the special sense, it is recorded, a picture of the same is retained in the great nervous storehouse for future reference. The retention and recognition of the same goes to the formation of memory. As the stock of objects increases, words or sounds designating the same also increase in number, and the material for the formation of ideas is also largely increased.

Ideas can be formed only about such things as we know, or rather such things as any one special sense has been impressed with, has perceived and recognized. Those things or beings by which any one sense has not been impressed, the mind neither has perceived nor is able to recognize. Everyone, whether barbarian or civilized, is perfectly familiar with those things or beings that immediately surround him—that is, all those things and beings which the senses have already been impressed with, perceived and recognized. Sounds, or words, have been invented to designate all such; and these are known; the picture representing any one object is retained, stored away in the great nervous storehouse, the brain—are remembered. The oftener a thing is perceived, the more familiar it becomes and the more easily recognized, the firmer it becomes fixed and the more easily it is recollected.

Thus primitive man, with his few wants, and these wants amply supplied by nature, had or invented names for all of them. These formed the earliest collection of names of objects—their appearance, their actions, their habits, etc. All these qualities were associated, identified, and presented by words, in due time, without the presence of the objects. That is to say, the simplest ideas were in this manner formed, and the ideas so formed corresponded with the number of words, and the number of words corresponded with the number of impressions received by the senses.

Each sense presents its share—one sense more, another less. A person may have received a large number of impressions on the organ of vision—a painter, for instance—and may have stored away a wealth of artistic knowledge, yet the sense of hearing may be exceedingly poor in the number of impressions received. Such an individual would be rich in artistic ideas but comparatively poor in musical ideas. So it is with all the special senses.

Each sense receives impressions on its own account. It has its own special nervous center, and these special centers again are closely connected with the great mass of brain matter. Collectively they have for their function, to receive impressions, retain them, store them away, recollect them, and reproduce them by articulate sound, or to recognize them.

In this process then we have the formation of idea, memory, thought; recollection is the endeavor to call back, or form a figure of, an object once already perceived—felt by the senses.