There is perhaps no more famous account of love, betrayal, and revenge
in literature than The Count of Monte-Cristo by Dumas. I first
encountered the story in my mid-teens and was instantly captured by it.
The basis of the story is simple: young Edmond Dantes is a sailor with a
bright future – soon to be made Captain of a profitable merchantman,
engaged to Mercedes, a Catalan girl noted for her beauty, having just
completed an extremely profitable trading voyage for his employer,
Morrel. It seems that he has already reached his happy ending, in the
first few pages of the novel.
But there are those jealous of his success, most especially Fernand, who
wants Mercedes for himself, and Danglars, another officer of the ship
who wanted the command of the vessel that will go to Dantes. The two
conspire to write an anonymous letter denouncing Dantes as a supporter
of Bonaparte (at the time a serious charge), and Dantes is seized and
arrested on the very eve of his wedding. Worse, the prosecutor
Villefort, while originally sympathetic to Dantes' plight, discovers
that a letter Dantes was carrying from Elba (location of Bonaparte's
exile) is addressed to Villefort's father. Villefort therefore allows
Dantes to be convicted and sentenced to the terrible prison of the
Chateau d'if.
But in prison, Dantes discovers a secret which could change everything
for him – the location of a fabulous treasure – as well as gaining an
education from the Abbe Faria, a fellow prisoner who held this secret.
When Dantes finally manages his escape, he locates the treasure… and
swears vengeance upon those who took away everything from him in a
single day.
Dumas' writing is old-fashioned, but still powerfully gripping. Edmond's
anguish and confusion at what has happened to him are heartrending, even
more so when he has a moment of hope in the presence of Villefort, only
to have it dashed to pieces due to something utterly beyond his control.
Too, there is a moment of black despair suddenly turned to brilliant
hope in one of my favorite literary Moments of Awesome, when Dantes
cries out to God that he is near despair, and a voice replies, seemingly
from the stones themselves, "Who speaks of God and despair at the same
time?"; this is the point at which Dantes first meets Abbe Faria.
One of the most impressive things about The Count of Monte-Cristo is the
careful attention to detail in Edmond Dantes' plans for revenge – and
the fact that he chooses, first, to follow the path of mercy and reward
to the innocent, before he embarks on the mission of the destroyer.
Dantes has not wholly lost his humanity – although there are several
times at which one may have just cause to wonder how far he is willing
to go. Eventually, however, he himself realizes there are limits beyond
which revenge must not go, or it becomes of itself an evil far worse
than that done to the avenger.
I have read The Count of Monte-Cristo many times, and always found
myself struck anew by some detail of the setting or the events therein –
the new methods of speedy communication just emerging into common use,
the way in which the fate of many in the book (and in the real world)
was affected by the swiftly-changing political realities in France, the
at once cosmopolitan and yet very insular discussion of lands and
customs distant from France proper.
Dantes himself is always an interesting study as a person – he tries to
make himself a passionless arbiter of justice as "The Count of
Monte-Cristo", but cannot, quite, erase the kindly, innocent boy that he
was before he ever saw the black gate of the Chateau d'if. One of those
present at the letter-writing, Caderousse, who could easily have
prevented his being jailed, is given not one but two chances to change
the course of his life, when Dantes could easily have justified it to
himself to include Caderousse in his campaign of revenge.
Indeed, as the Count he seems more prone to allowing people to test
themselves to destruction, passing judgment upon themselves by their own
actions, than he is to direct vengeance; he plays an almost
Mephistopholean role in tempting his adversaries and those around them
with opportunities to do wrong, and only bringing down vengeance upon
them when they avail themselves of these opportunities – showing that
they did not betray him in a single moment of weakness, but were acting
according to their true natures.
Ultimately, and surprisingly, The Count of Monte-Cristo turns out not to
be a story of pure dark vengeance but of despair and redemption, of
choices made, and of letting go of the past. Edmond Dantes spares lives
he could have taken, saves others that had been forfeit, and in the end
allows himself to let go of the love and hate of the past and find a new
love where he had never thought to find it.
It is little wonder that this is one of my favorite old novels… or that
it is one of the great and enduring classics of Western literature.
--
Sea Wasp
/^\
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