Chapter 34

by Herman Melville

　　IN WHICH THE COSMOPOLITAN TELLS THE STORY OF THE GENTLEMAN MADMAN."Charlemont was a young merchant of French descent, living in St.Louis--a man not deficient in mind, and possessed of that sterling andcaptivating kindliness, seldom in perfection seen but in youthfulbachelors, united at times to a remarkable sort of gracefullydevil-may-care and witty good-humor. Of course, he was admired byeverybody, and loved, as only mankind can love, by not a few. But in histwenty-ninth year a change came over him. Like one whose hair turns grayin a night, so in a day Charlemont turned from affable to morose. Hisacquaintances were passed without greeting; while, as for hisconfidential friends, them he pointedly, unscrupulously, and with a kindof fierceness, cut dead."One, provoked by such conduct, would fain have resented it with wordsas disdainful; while another, shocked by the change, and, in concern fora friend, magnanimously overlooking affronts, implored to know whatsudden, secret grief had distempered him. But from resentment and fromtenderness Charlemont alike turned away."Ere long, to the general surprise, the merchant Charlemont wasgazetted, and the same day it was reported that he had withdrawn fromtown, but not before placing his entire property in the hands ofresponsible assignees for the benefit of creditors."Whither he had vanished, none could guess. At length, nothing beingheard, it was surmised that he must have made away with himself--asurmise, doubtless, originating in the remembrance of the change somemonths previous to his bankruptcy--a change of a sort only to beascribed to a mind suddenly thrown from its balance."Years passed. It was spring-time, and lo, one bright morning,Charlemont lounged into the St. Louis coffee-houses--gay, polite,humane, companionable, and dressed in the height of costly elegance. Notonly was he alive, but he was himself again. Upon meeting with oldacquaintances, he made the first advances, and in such a manner that itwas impossible not to meet him half-way. Upon other old friends, whom hedid not chance casually to meet, he either personally called, or lefthis card and compliments for them; and to several, sent presents of gameor hampers of wine."They say the world is sometimes harshly unforgiving, but it was not soto Charlemont. The world feels a return of love for one who returns toit as he did. Expressive of its renewed interest was a whisper, aninquiring whisper, how now, exactly, so long after his bankruptcy, itfared with Charlemont's purse. Rumor, seldom at a loss for answers,replied that he had spent nine years in Marseilles in France, and thereacquiring a second fortune, had returned with it, a man devotedhenceforth to genial friendships."Added years went by, and the restored wanderer still the same; orrather, by his noble qualities, grew up like golden maize in theencouraging sun of good opinions. But still the latent wonder was, whathad caused that change in him at a period when, pretty much as now, hewas, to all appearance, in the possession of the same fortune, the samefriends, the same popularity. But nobody thought it would be the thingto question him here."At last, at a dinner at his house, when all the guests but one hadsuccessively departed; this remaining guest, an old acquaintance, beingjust enough under the influence of wine to set aside the fear oftouching upon a delicate point, ventured, in a way which perhaps spokemore favorably for his heart than his tact, to beg of his host toexplain the one enigma of his life. Deep melancholy overspread thebefore cheery face of Charlemont; he sat for some moments tremulouslysilent; then pushing a full decanter towards the guest, in a chokedvoice, said: 'No, no! when by art, and care, and time, flowers are madeto bloom over a grave, who would seek to dig all up again only to knowthe mystery?--The wine.' When both glasses were filled, Charlemont tookhis, and lifting it, added lowly: 'If ever, in days to come, you shallsee ruin at hand, and, thinking you understand mankind, shall tremblefor your friendships, and tremble for your pride; and, partly throughlove for the one and fear for the other, shall resolve to be beforehandwith the world, and save it from a sin by prospectively taking that sinto yourself, then will you do as one I now dream of once did, and likehim will you suffer; but how fortunate and how grateful should you be,if like him, after all that had happened, you could be a little happyagain.'"When the guest went away, it was with the persuasion, that thoughoutwardly restored in mind as in fortune, yet, some taint ofCharlemont's old malady survived, and that it was not well for friendsto touch one dangerous string."