The Creation of God by Jacob Hartmann (most difficult books to read .txt) 📕

limitation of brain culture by undue interference of the ascendent idea or ideas that limits the range of intelligence and subjects the will power to the control and direction of what the people presumed to be a greater right than their own.

Prescribed limits of education check or stunt the natural progress, and if any progress is made, the people must break through the prescribed limits, as was the case with Luther, Spinoza, Voltaire, Renan, etc.

The ascendency of man over animals checks their further progress in the way of intelligence. The superior hostile intelligence holds possession and will not permit further development. As regards animals, we have taken possession of the earth, and have put a stop to all further advancement.

Supposing a man develops an idea, it is not an easy matter to persuade his next-door neighbor, who is his equal perhaps in intelligence; but, it is not difficult to inculcate his pet idea into his child. It is, as it were, virgin ground, and he plows it to his liking. He has complete control. He is master. He directs it as he wishes, and prevents others from planting strange ideas or ideas hostile or antagonistic to his own.

In this manner we commence breeding ideas, and we continue breeding the same ideas, on the same principle as breeding pigeons or chickens; they are all of the same kind, if you don’t cross them; and the more eggs you lay the more chickens you get, and if they multiply rapidly, especially if you have many hens to one rooster (as the Jews had), what a multitude to spoil a garden-patch!

That is precisely what happens, and that is what actually took place with Abraham.

We have also a natural limitation to brain culture. We may instance the orang-outang, the Bushman, the negro, the idiot, etc.—brains that are not susceptible to much culture or education. The understanding, the development of the intellectual faculties, is limited of necessity. There is no possibility of going beyond their capacity; it will hold a given measure and no more.

Even among these, the range of intelligence may vary some degrees.

Impairment, effectiveness, or entire absence of any one of the senses, limits intellectual acquirements. The uniform activity of all the senses is thereby hindered.

We have in addition innumerable varieties of brain in size, quality, quantity, form; as also inherited failings or diseased conditions.

The qualities of God depend upon the qualities of the man. There has not yet been a god conceived by the human mind but greediness was the chief element. Men made gods for others, whose inferior intellect was easily swayed to believe in great benefits they were to expect, but never got, yet were continually paying for.

Every man or woman is responsible for his or her acts, and no God—supposing there to be any—can save him or her. There can be no intercession between man, and nature or nature’s laws. Every living being is held to strict accountability to the prevailing forces and the controlling elements that compose it. It is always a question of unchangeable equilibrium between the elements and the surrounding medium, as to the kind of a God we may acquire.

A man can see no farther than his sight will permit him. The organ of sight, the eye, may be so constituted that we can barely recognize the nearest object, or we may without difficulty distinguish the smallest object at a great distance. This condition, of seeing objects near, at a moderate distance, or far off, or not seeing at all, depends on the natural construction of the organ itself. The difference between the various qualities of sight is due to the proper qualities and shape of the various structures that enter into the composition of the organ of vision. Every part must be perfect—the lens, the iris, the cornea, the vitreous humor, etc. Not only must the parts be perfect, but they must also be in a healthy condition, to produce accurate vision. All this answers well for ordinary purposes in life, taking in such impressions as the apparatus of vision may from time to time receive. These are retained, stored up; thus memory of objects, the impressions of which have been recorded, may be recalled to mind either in actuality or in imagination. The education of that organ consists in the number, variety, and kind of impressions received. This constitutes the degree of educational experience, being regulated by the amount of knowledge of the greater or lesser number of objects that have been recorded through the retina on the great central nervous system.

Experience, long practice, matures and perfects the knowledge of all things that meet the eye; understanding becomes more thorough, intellect clearer, and judgment more accurate, enabling us by that means to recognize the smallest imperfection, the slightest deviation, and the most delicate shade of harmony, in color and form.

We all know how hard it is for a child to recognize shapes, objects, colors, etc. We know its long and tedious repetitions of looking at one and the same thing an infinite number of times before it will recognize it. We know that a child will repeat things, or the names of things, without knowing anything about them; or, it may know the names of things yet not recognize the things when presented to its sight. The decision or judgment whether the thing is right and proper, is left to the person who has already had experience and acquired knowledge and understanding concerning these matters. Thus the child may be directed rightly or wrongly, and its education must depend on the accuracy of the instruction received. However, the impressions received in the early part of life remain firm, and are not easily removed or eradicated, no matter how faulty, wrong, how perverse and false, they may be. The stronger and deeper the impressions and the longer they have become habituated to them, the harder it is to correct them, the more difficult to explain the errors. It is in such cases almost impossible to convince, and a tedious task to eradicate. By these early educational processes durable habits are acquired, that become persistent and remain during life; especially when no contrary influences have been brought to bear upon them to modify or correct them. It is almost an impossibility to train or educate the organ, whether sense of sight or ear, or the organ of voice, after a certain ago has been reached. An artist must start young in his artistic education if he has any desire to excel in that art—that is, if the organs of sight and touch are to be evenly balanced. So that whenever any person inherits the necessary qualities of sight and touch, and these become educated, I mean accurately trained, skill must result in excellence, and from that reach to a degree of perfection. The high art of painting becomes this man’s ideal, and this ideal his god, if the education of the other senses has not materially interfered in shading his ideal, or the moral and social qualities, giving his productions a tone or tint that may cloud or brighten his efforts, not forgetting the inherent or acquired bias of other surroundings that may influence his mind.

In the culture of music or of the ear, there is a wonderful difference in the kind of sounds a person has received as his earliest impressions, the number of sounds his scale of the notes consists of. What we term the monotonous sounds of Chinese music delight the Chinaman’s ear, and he cannot conceive how it is possible for Europeans to tolerate the immense amount of confusion that is usually displayed in an orchestra. Yet the European is delighted with our music and finds the Chinese music very dull. The same difference, but not to that degree, exists among the various European nationalities. Sprightly France thinks British music very dull, etc.

Painting is an art, but everybody cannot paint, though everybody has sight and touch. That art requires a great deal of training. The vast majority of mankind are not able even to draw an accurate outline of any object. Sight, the organ of vision, is a difficult organ to educate.

The same difficulties confront us with other organs. A degree of perfection is requisite in the construction of the organ in order to confer the necessary qualification for a higher training. And here too the education consists of receiving impressions through the organ of hearing to the brain, and these, like the impressions of sight, are recorded, that is to say, they are retained, in memory, so that we may recall them, or recognize them, when familiar sounds strike the ear. Any kind of simple sound is easily retained. A child will much more easily recognize the voice of a cat or a dog than a painting or a picture, and will remember the one but not recognize the other. There is certainly a difference in the educational capabilities of these organs. Simple sounds are easily retained and easily reproduced. A simple combination of sounds are also retained without difficulty. Thus it comes that we are all more or less imitators of sounds or simple melodies. These seem to contribute to our amusement more readily, either for our own satisfaction, or for the satisfaction of others, or both.

These reproductions of sounds or melodies do not require any mental effort or physical effort. The organ of voice may be used—that is, we attempt to sing. We may hum, or we can pucker our lips together and whistle. Each individual whistles in his own peculiar fashion, seldom two alike. They may be similar, but never alike. The fault may lie in the lips, the tongue, in the form of the opening made, the manner of blowing through the opening formed by the lips, the duration and strength of the expiration, dryness or moisture of the mouth, the thickness or flabbiness of cheeks, etc., etc. Hence it comes that every man has his whistle. You may take a class and train them to whistle a melody, say “Yankee Doodle.” Each one will produce similar successive sounds or notes, so that that particular melody is recognized, but each one will have his own “Yankee Doodle,” with peculiarities, characteristics peculiarly his own. If, for example, he is musically inclined, or has had any training in music, he or she may put a quaver or two in, as a variation, more or less. Yet each one will still own his own whistle and pipe his own “Yankee Doodle.”

That is just what happens with God. We have no God, we never had one, but we have been educated up to one. In childhood we already hear the first indistinct sound, and we don’t know whether it is the bark of a dog or the mew of a cat. By and by, as we grow older and are ready to attend Sunday-school, or some other institution where these instructions are imparted, you learn the melody of “Yankee Doodle”—rather puzzling at first, but it comes. Variations are put in to suit special cases and special occasions, and each individual member of any one class whistles his “Yankee Doodle” to the best of his ability—entirely his own; he is perfectly happy with it; it does not in any way interfere in the ordinary pursuits in life, his pleasures, his stomach, his diversion nor his business; and really it makes no difference where he is, in the street, in the factory, in the store, on the exchange, in the hovel or in the palace, he carries his “Yankee Doodle” with him. Whistle it over a birth, over a wedding, or over a funeral, whistle it wherever you will, it is the same “Yankee Doodle.” It is used on all occasions—in wars on the battlefield, or at peace on parade, etc. Thus it happens that everyone, male or female, has his or