Alexander Dumas’s classic “The Count of Monte Cristo” is a paragon of French novella. While his “Three Musketeers” might be more adapted and beloved by swashbuckling boys, The Count is a story for us adults. I confess that reading the mammoth 1,450 page novel was a pleasure until the thirty first chapter. For thirty chapters the reader is plunged into the tale of Edmund Dantes, first mate of Phareon ship that has recently returned from the prison island Elba that holds Emperor Napoleon captive. Dantes returns to Marseilles, his home, to greet his ship own Mr. monsieur Morrel. Edmund relates how his captain was laid sick by a fever and they laid at port of Ferraro off Elba. After assuring Ship Owner Morrel that the cargo is intact and becoming a candidate to be the new captain, Edmund Dantes visits his father and then his fiancée Mercedes who is tacitly trying to ward off the amorous advances of Fernand Mondego, who pledges his love to Mercedes only to find her like Medusa reducing his heart to stone with rejection. Edmund having raised enough funds to marry Mercedes commences with the proceedings to chagrin of Fernand. While this happy engagement is in preparations of being consummated, a plot against Dantes is devised by a shipmate of Phareon named Danglars and the furious Fernand who desires his love above all scruples. Danglars with a piece of paper writes incriminating words to Proco de roi, Villfort, deceiving Edmund Dantes as a Bonapartist carrying instructions from the isolated Emperor from Elba. Villfort a serving of justice and loyal to the opposite party of Bonapartists known as the Royalists is content to round Edmund Dantes up on the eve of his wedding. Despite Dantes pleading of innocence, a personal detail of who the letter Dantes carries is addressed to leads Villfort to send Edmund to life imprisonment at the Chateau D’if, a purgatory on earth where Edmund puts his trust in the Lord and meets his salvation, the Abbe (priest) Faria who educates Edmund in theology, philosophy, mathematics, physics, history, literature, and beyond. In addition to this treasure of knowledge comes a tangible treasure of Sparda which amounts to 100 millions (trillions back then). For this period and transition from engagement party to prison at the chateau Edmund is devout in his faith though sworn to avenge himself against Danglars, Fernand, and Villfort.
At first Dantes saves the “worthy” Morrel family from bankruptcy under an alias Sinbad the Sailor. However, Edmund Dantes benevolence swiftly develops in malevolence as he assumes the new alter ego The Count of Monte Cristo. A dramatic shift in character happens after chapter thirty in chapter thirty one where Edmund disguised as Sinbad the Sailor offers Fraz d’Epinay, a friend of Albert Mondego, a batch of Hatchis (Hashish, Cannabis, Pot). From the point on Edmund now consumed by his quest for revenge weaves a web to destroy not only the guilty Danglars, Villlfort, and Fernand, but their families.
Dantes quite mad resorts to poisoning or rather suggesting to Madame de Villfort, poisoning her step daughter Valentine. Death, ruination and desertion plague the houses of Mondego (Morcerf), Danglars, and Villfort as Edmund declared himself an angel of judgement and echoing deus vult! God wills it! Convinced he is an agent of God and even a god himself, Dantes does the most devilish harm to his enemies and only compassion for s family he loves, the Morrels, and the connection to the Villforts stays his hand and sickle. As Edmund returns to benevolence he becomes acutely aware of how revenge has poisoned his soul and pledges to Maximilian Morrel, a son to him and his beloved Valentine Villfort the following words:
“There is a felucca for you at anchor. Jacopo will carry you to Leghorn, where Monsieur Noirtier awaits his granddaughter, whom he wishes to bless before you lead her to the altar. All that is in this grotto, my friend, my house in the Champs Elysees, and my chateau at Treport, are the marriage gifts bestowed by Edmond Dantes upon the son of his old master, Morrel. Mademoiselle de Villefort will share them with you; for I entreat her to give to the poor the immense fortune reverting to her from her father, now a madman, and her brother who died last September with his mother. Tell the angel who will watch over your future destiny, Morrel, to pray sometimes for a man, who like Satan thought himself for an instant equal to God, but who now acknowledges with Christian humility that God alone possesses supreme power and infinite wisdom. Perhaps those prayers may soften the remorse he feels in his heart. As for you, Morrel, this is the secret of my conduct towards you. There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of living.
“Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget that until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words,—’Wait and hope.’ Your friend, Edmund Dantes.” (The Count of Monte Cristo, Chapter 117, The Fifth of October).
In these last words of the Count of Monte Cristo we see wisdom at Last prevail over madness. The Count acknowledges he was a devil to wield justice in place of Providence. I found the statement “all human wisdom is contained in these two words- wait and hope,” to be both inspiring and telling of our life on earth. The Apostle says, “while we wait for the blessed hope--the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ,.” (Titus 2:13). We wait and hope for Jesus to return and establish His Kingdom.
The Count of Monte Cristo is a moralist tale, with ample references to Christ and Christian virtue and humility. The story is a parable of what happens when we disobey Christ’s words, “you must forgive so that your Father in heaven will forgive you,” (Matthew 6:15), “If you do not forgive your Father in heaven will not forgive you,” (Mark 11:26), and “forgive someone who has wrong you seventy times seven (infinite),” (Matthew 18:21-22) and, “But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.” (Luke 6:27-31). Had Edmund heeded the words of the Lord he would not have become a vampiric Count whose revenge destroys lives and even his own heart until it is warmed again by Mercedes, Maximilian, and Haydee, a young lady whom he finds the happiness robbed from him returned.
Edmund could have saved himself much heart ache had he listened to the words of Christ, “forgive them for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34). Indeed the principle trio of villains, monsieur Danglars, Fernand, and Villfort knew what they were doing to Edmund, but perhaps the real sources of their scapegoating Dantes and ship wrecking him in prime of his happiness wasn’t totally known to them, Danglars was greed and avarice, Villfort fear and ambition, and Fernand jealousy and love sickness. In fact, there is cause to support these antagonists. Villfort does his duty, for Edmund is found to possess the letter that contains news of Napoleon’s escape as well as plans to help aide in this bonapartist enterprise. By Law Edmund was guilty of treason for carrying such a letter even though its contents were unknown to him. In the eyes of justice Edmund stood condemned even without Villfort’s personal reason. Dantes’ fall and imprisonment is in actuality his own fault, the lesson, do not carry letters of which you are ignorant of the contents, a lesson for us even in the 21st century. As for Fernand, his motive is pure, his love or amour for Mercedes is genuine and he unable to tolerant life without her takes the incriminating letter forged by Danglars to destroy Edmund. Fernand motive isn’t envy, but love to the point of murder. Danglars reason for betraying Edmund has to do with monetary reasons, he loves wealth, however, he holds a hatred towards Edmund over the adventure to Elba where at the behest of the Captain who is dying, Dantes takes the incriminating letter. In truth, had Edmund listen to Danglars and not put in to Port Ferraro at Elba, the entire misadventure known as The Count of Monte Cristo souls never have happened.
Dumas’ genius is in showing how one choice that each of the characters make sets in motion events that consist of consequences none could have foreseen or dreamed in their nightmares. The tale makes its mark on the sea shores of the reader by giving us a glimpse into this fact, “why do you judge frail man?” (Job) and “judge not lest you be judged, for the measure you use shall be measured against you.” (Matthew 7:1-3). Whether the judgments were from trio of antagonists or the protagonist himself, the end result was ruination and death. Forgiveness is the only remedy and loving your enemy is the surest way to escape becoming Ruthven or Vlad the Impaler of the Island of Monte Cristo!
Each of the locations in Monte Cristo are allegorical. Paris is Nineveh or the City of Nimrod that makes gods out of pretense, glory, honor, and superficiality. Marseilles is the charming childhood town or village where we spend our days in simple joys and innocence. Rome is a field of blood where plots, devices, intrigues, and politics lead to public executions and the execution of revenge easily obtained, especially if you have Luigi Vampa as your ally. The Chateu D’if is the prison where we can learn to join in Christ’s sufferings and receive treasure from heaven. The Isle of Monte Cristo serves as the soul of Dantes which at first is treasure island for benevolence and malevolence, then a place of pleasure and plotting, and then finally redemption where the Count comes to his senses and repents thus fulfilling the name of the island: Monte Cristo, Mount of Christ.
Recommending this classic is rather a hard task. It is riveting page turner (unlike War and Peace) and it contains praise for Christ throughout in noble declarations and the final lines of the book. However, the depths of Dantes revenge which involve hashish (cannabis) and occultic apothecary (making medicines and poisons) along with Edmund’s retelling of making a bargain with the devil like Faust to Villfort, and the rest of the Ruthvan vampiric transformations of Edmund Dantes made me never want to read the book again nor recommend it lightly sue to these base contents. Still there is merit in the moral education of how revenge destroys the avenger as much as the object of revenge. There is also the great final chapter with “wait and hope.” Make no mistake Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo Novel is not the Touchstone Pictures 2002 film with Jim Caviezel and Guy Pierce, the book is almost the total antithesis and opposite of the film.
Monte Cristo is not for the faint at heart or weak in faith (Jude 1:23). Set sail at your own peril, for ahead of the reader lies rocks, sea monsters, and despair, as well as hope. For myself the journey had a purpose, but the Count coaxing people to take the evil drug known as Hashish (Canabias, Pot) and his bargain with the devil and poisoning plots made him irredeemable and made Dantes worthy of Dante’s seventh circle of hell! I found myself empathizing with Villfort more than the protagonist and that to me speaks volumes.
The Count should have died in Chateau D’if with the Abbe. None of his machinations of revenge nor the losses that compel Dantes to carry them out are sufficient to make you root for him, instead all you feel is horror as the Count carries out his plans. I then can only recommend this to a minority of brothers and sisters in Christ who can discern and rightly divide the lesson from the graphic revenge played out on the page. For the rest of you brethren, I say adieu and spend your time on another island, perhaps Patmos (The Book of Revelation, Holy Bible).
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