The sensation created by the presence of these two celebrities was
profound beyond description; and the passengers were never weary of
watching the gleaming spectacles and the square-toed boots of the one,
and the liquid eyes and the ravishing toilettes of the other. Virginia's
acquaintance was made almost instantly by three pale-faced curates, and
so well did their friendship prosper, that they soon sang at nightfall
with her a beautiful vesper hymn. Nor did the matter end here, for the
strains sounded so lovely, and Virginia looked so devotional, that most
of the passengers the night after joined in a repetition of this
touching evening office.
The Professor, as was natural, held quite aloof, and pondered over a new
species of bug, which he had found very plentiful in his berth. But it
soon occurred to him that he often heard the name of God being uttered
otherwise than in swearing. He listened more attentively to the sounds
which he had at first set down as negro-melodies, and he soon became
convinced that they were something whose very existence he despised
himself for remembering--namely, Christian hymns. He then thought of the
three curates, whose existence he despised himself for remembering also.
And the conviction rapidly dawned on him that, though the passengers
seemed fully alive to his fame as a man of science, they could yet know
very little of all that science had done for them; and of the death-blow
it had given to the foul superstitions of the past. He therefore
resolved that next day he would preach them a lay-sermon.
At the appointed time the passengers gathered eagerly round him--all but
Virginia, who retired to her cabin when she saw that the preacher wore
no surplice, as she thought it would be a mortal sin to listen to a
sermon without one.
The Professor began amidst a profound silence. He first proclaimed to
his hearers the great primary axiom on which all modern thought bases
itself. He told them that there was but one order of things--it was so
much neater than two; and if we would be certain of anything, we must
never doubt this. Thus, since countless things exist that the senses
_can_ take account of, it is evident that nothing exists that the senses
can _not_ take account of. The senses can take no account of God;
therefore God does not exist. Men of science can only see theology in a
ridiculous light, therefore theology has no side that is not ridiculous.
He then told them a few of the names that enlightened thinkers had
applied to the Christian deity--how Professor Tyndall had called him an
'atom-manufacturer,' and Professor Huxley a 'pedantic drill-sergeant'.
The passengers at once saw how demonstrably at variance with fact was
all religion, and they laughed with a sense of humour that was quite new
to them. The Professor's tones then became more solemn, and, having
extinguished error, he at once went on to unveil the brilliant light of
truth. He showed them how, viewed by modern science, all existence is a
chain, with a gas at one end and no one knows what at the other; and how
Humanity is a link somewhere; but--holy and awful thought!--we can none
of us tell where. 'However,' he proceeded, 'of one thing we can be quite
certain; all that is, is matter; the laws of matter are eternal, and we
cannot act or think without conforming to them; and if,' he said, 'we
would be solemn and high, and happy, and heroic, and saintly, we have
but to strive and struggle to do what we cannot for an instant avoid
doing. Yes,' he exclaimed, 'as the sublime Tyndall tells us, let us
struggle to attain to a deeper knowledge of matter, and a more faithful
conformity to its laws!'
The Professor would have proceeded, but the weather had been rapidly
growing rough, and he here became violently sea-sick.
'Let us,' he exclaimed hurriedly, 'conform to the laws of matter and go
below.'
Nor was the advice premature. A storm arose, exceptional in its
suddenness and its fury. It raged for two days without ceasing. The
_Australasian_ sprang a leak; her steering gear was disabled; and it was
feared she would go ashore on an island that was seen dimly through the
fog to the leeward. The boats were got in readiness. A quantity of
provisions and of the passengers' baggage was already stowed in the
cutter; when the clouds parted, the sun came out again, and the storm
subsided almost as quickly as it rose.