The passage to the Dutch coast, and my journey onward to Heidelberg,
were performed without interruption, and were unenlivened by any
incident that deserves relating. As it is not my intention to dwell
upon the vicissitudes of my career at the high school and university,
I shall merely say that, attending very little to the conventional and
arbitrary distinctions by which the students of Germany choose to
classify themselves--caring still less for _chores_, _brand-foxes_,
and _Burschenschafft_, and nothing at all for noisy suppers and their
drunken _refrain_--
"Toujours fidele et sans souci
C'est l'ordre du Crambambuli!"--
I very earnestly bent myself to second the intentions of my father.
For three years, diligently and indefatigably, I pursued a course of
severe application to long-neglected studies, which enabled me fairly
to redeem the time I had squandered in early youth. Nor is it unworthy
of remark, that, as is often the case with imaginative people, the
temptations which had appeared so inviting when beheld from a
distance, failed in their powers of allurement on a nearer approach.
The Spirit of the Brocken and I made no advances in intimacy, and I
rode through the Black Forest without a desire to enroll myself
amongst its freebooters.
The fourth year of my stay at Heidelberg was drawing to a close, when,
in pursuance of arrangements entered into with my father, I returned
to England. Upon reaching London, I drove to my kind friends at
Walworth, where I experienced the same ready welcome as before,
accompanied by many congratulations upon my academical success, of
which they had heard from time to time from my family. It was the
middle of winter--the second or third week in December--when London
exhibits all that joyous bustle of plenteousness and good cheer,
amidst which its citizens celebrate the festival of Christmas. As Mrs
Sainsbury and her daughters were now at home, I was easily prevailed
on to prolong my visit for a few days before I departed for
Lincolnshire. The moment I entered the house, the rooms and their
associations recalled to me forcibly the mysterious Pair, whose
proceedings had filled my mind with so much of curiosity and interest
when I was last a sojourner in the abode. During my residence in
Germany I had not forgotten them; and although the austerity of my
pursuits in that country had schooled my fancy to a soberer pace, I
could not forbear from enquiring, in one or two letters which I had
occasion to write to the younger Sainsbury, whether the milkman of
Walworth and his Shadow still pursued their rounds uninterrupted, or
if any thing had transpired that could enlighten our conjectures on
their history. My correspondent always neglected, or forgot, to
satisfy me in this particular; and it was therefore with something, I
am ashamed to say, nearly approaching to anxiety, that on the morning
after my arrival--for the gay variety of the social circle had
monopolized my attention until then--I once more, after so long an
interval, seated myself in the library window, under pretence of
seeking a passage in Herder, which I had quoted for Julia Sainsbury
the preceding evening, and awaited the hour of noon.
And there, before the clock of the neighbouring church had ceased
striking, with the selfsame step, in the same subdued attire in which
I saw him four years ago, came gliding up the street the dark, sullen
milkman; and there, too, close behind him as ever, followed his
shadowy companion! It is in vain to deny it. I could feel my heart
beating audibly when I beheld them, as if they were unsubstantial
visitants, whose appearance I expected the grave would have
interdicted from my eyes for ever. It was a dim, bitter, wintry day,
and showers of sleet were drifting heavily on the fierce and angry
wind, soaking the man's garments through and through, and sweeping
aside the thin habiliments of the female, as though they would tear
them from her slender form, and leave it a prey to the keen wrath of
the elements. Yet the Pair passed upon their way, seemingly regardless
of weather that had banished all other creatures from the streets. As
they stopped beneath the window where I sat, I scrutinized them
eagerly, to see whether time, or toil, or the terrors of such winters
as that now raging, had wrought the work of ruin I would have expected
in their frames. In that of the woman there was but little alteration.
She was thinner and paler perhaps, and the poorness of her dress
betokened no doubt an increase in her sufferings and privations; but
her glance, when I could catch it, had more of fiery blackness: her
mouth more of compressed determination than when I formerly beheld
her. But in Maunsell there was a striking change: his figure was
stooped, his cheek hollow, his eye sunk; in a word, his aspect now
bore the signs of that mental misery which, on an earlier occasion, I
had looked for in one subjected like him to such long, and steady, and
undying persecution. Mournful beings! I internally exclaimed, as they
proceeded from my sight, whatever sinful sorrow thus serves to link
together your discordant existences, it must indeed be of a damning
nature, if such a career as yours does not go far to expiate it!
That day, on the re-assembling of the family, I did not fail to allude
to the subject of the milkman, and to express my surprise at his
tenacity to life, as well as at the fixedness of purpose that enabled
him to pursue his occupation through a long series of years, under
such remarkable circumstances. I found, however, that the ladies only
smiled at the interest which my manner exhibited; some of them
assuring me, at the same time, that the neighbourhood was now so
accustomed to the matter, that, although calculated to arrest the
attention of a stranger, to them it had ceased to be either a source
of curiosity or enquiry. I believe they added, that of late the man's
health had begun to fail, and that once or twice, when he happened to
be confined from indisposition, his companion's visits were
interrupted by the occurrence, although she still kept her vigilance
in exercise by watching unremittingly for his re-appearance.
After a few pleasant days passed in London, I proceeded to
Lincolnshire, and had the happiness of finding my family well when I
arrived at home. My father was quite satisfied with the letters I
conveyed from Professor Von Slammerbogen; my mother delighted to
receive me in any character, whether that of pedant or prodigal.
Nicholas, my elder brother, I found as much attached, as when I left
him, to practising "Dull Care", upon the violin. In Tom, however,
there was a considerable modification, he having left his sinister arm
at Hougomont, in exchange for a three months' campaign in country
quarters and a Waterloo medal. In the following term I entered at
Cambridge, as my father had originally planned; and in due time, upon
obtaining my degree, was admitted into holy orders. My first curacy,
it is singular enough, was obtained through the influence of our
friend the Walworth banker, and was that of St ----'s, in his
neighbourhood, but nearer to town, and the centre of a poor but
densely peopled district. The scene of life I now entered upon was
truly laborious and painful. Resolved to perform its duties diligently
to the best of my ability, I found every moment I could spare from
refreshment and sleep hardly sufficient for the claims which the
Comfortless, whom I had to console, the Sick, whom I had to succour,
the Profligate, to reclaim, the Sceptic, to convince, made upon my
time. Wholesome and profitable to my spirit, I trust, was this
discipline! It seems to me a thing inexplicable, how a man can
advocate the interests, the benefits of religion--can impress upon
others the divine precepts of Christianity, and be himself not a
partaker in the blessings he imparts. Such a one, I hope, I have long
ceased to be; and although I do not profess to have attained that
degree of zealous fervour and devotion, which sees, in the light and
graceful relaxations of life nothing but the darkness and allurements
of sin, I humbly believe I have endeavoured to make my course, as much
as in me was possible, conformable to the doctrines I have taught.
Upon settling in London, I gladly renewed my acquaintance with the
Sainsburys; yet so arduous were the duties of my profession, that, for
the first two years in which I resided in St ----'s parish, I saw but
little of this amiable family. Towards the close of that period, the
aid of an additional curate, appointed to assist in the district,
afforded me a little more leisure time, and I was enabled occasionally
to spend an evening at Walworth. In passing to and from my friend's
house, I now and then met, and ever with renewed interest and
surprise, the dark PAIR still plodding their melancholy, interminable
rounds. The last time I beheld them, I remember calculating, as they
passed me, the number of years they had been thus incomprehensibly
associated, and speculating on how many more should elapse before age
and death terminated that melancholy partnership. In about two months
after, I dined at the banker's, and the first intelligence with which
John Sainsbury greeted me, was the news that the milkman of Walworth
and his companion had at length disappeared. Maunsell, he said, had
died some weeks before, after a couple of days' illness. No one seemed
to know of what disorder--general debility, it was thought; no doctor
had been called in; and not having left a will, his property went to
some distant relative. With respect to the woman, she was last
noticed, the evening of his death, sitting in the usual spot--within
sight of the gateway leading to his house--where she generally awaited
his appearance. She was not there the following morning; nor was she
seen again. As the deceased had made no disclosure respecting her, nor
left any papers that could tend to explain their connexion, all
chance, it was concluded, of clearing up the mystery was at an end for
ever. I confess this disappointed me not a little. I found I had,
whenever the strange Pair occurred to my recollection, unconsciously
entertained a conviction that I should, at some period or other, learn
their history; and now that all opportunity of so doing had vanished,
the fancies of my early youth again returned, and occupied me with
their wild suggestions for a longer time than was either pleasing or
justifiable. The coincidence, however, which had brought me so often
into contact with those singular persons, was not fated as yet to
discontinue.