"Make no mistake: I should fight a duel for a trifle, an insult, a contradiction, a slap—and all the more merrily for knowing that, thanks to the skill I have acquired in all physical exercises and long experience of danger, I should be more or less certain of killing my opponent. Oh, yes, indeed, I should fight a duel for any of these things; but in return for a slow, deep, infinite, eternal pain, I should return as nearly as possible a pain equivalent to the one inflicted on me. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, as they say in the East, those men who are the elect of creation, and who have learnt to make a life of dreams and paradise a reality." (35.42)
The Count's notions regarding revenge seem to be taken solely from the Old Testament. He doesn't acknowledge Jesus' commandment to "turn the other cheek."
"Oh, God," said Monte Cristo, "your vengeance may sometimes be slow in coming, but I think that then it is all the more complete." (83.7)
As the saying goes, "Revenge is a dish best served cold." Here, Monte Cristo seems to agree with the conventional wisdom.
"Poor young man!" Monte Cristo muttered, so low that even he could not hear these words of compassion as he spoke them. "It is written that the sins of the father shall be visited on the sons, even to the third and forth generation." (85.135)
Monte Cristo, on the other hand, clearly doesn't believe that there are any extenuating circumstances. Revenge is revenge, and nothing should interfere with it, even across generations.
"No, it is not life that I regret, but the ruin of my plans, which were so long in devising and so laborious to construct. Providence, which I thought favoured them, was apparently against them. God did not want them to come to fruition!
"This burden which I took on, almost as heavy as a world, and which I thought I could carry to the end, was measured according to my desire and not my strength. I shall have to put it down when my task is barely half completed. Ah, I shall have to become a fatalist, after fourteen years of despair and ten years of hope had made me a believe me a believer in Providence!" (90.2-3)
In order to believe he is an agent of Providence, the Count must believe he knows what is meant to be. To see that certainty crumble is, potentially, just as damaging as that fateful bolt from the blue, the stroke.
"What is truly desirable? A possession that we cannot have. So, my life is devoted to seeing things that I cannot understand and obtaining things that are impossible to have. I succeed by two means: money and will. I am as persevering in the pursuit of my whims as, for example, you are, Monsieur Danglars, in building a railway; or you, Monsieur de Villefort, in condemning a man to death; or you, Monsieur Debray, pacifying a kingdom; you, Monsieur de Château-Renaud, in finding favour with a woman; or you, Monsieur Morrel, in breaking a horse that no one else can ride." (63.7)
Unlike the others, who seem to do things because they love them or what they lead to – for instance, railroads lead to money – Monte Cristo claims to do things for the sake of, well, doing things, like a climber who scales a mountain because it's there.
"Poor young man!" Monte Cristo muttered, so low that even he could not hear these words of compassion as he spoke them. "It is written that the sins of the father shall be visited on the sons, even to the third and forth generation." (85.135)
Because sin itself is able to persist, according to Monte Cristo, and corrupt even the sons of those who sinned, the Count himself must persist in his pursuit of those sinners-by-proxy if he hopes to complete his job.
"Suppose that the Lord God, after creating the world, after fertilizing the void, had stopped one-third of the way through His creation to spare an angel the tears that our crimes would one day bring to His immortal eyes. Suppose that, having prepared everything, kneaded everything, seeded everything, at the moment when He was about to admire his work, God had extinguished the sun and with His foot dashed the world into eternal night, then you will have some idea…Or, rather, no…No, even then you cannot have any idea of what I am losing by losing my life at this moment." (89.71)
There's no better way to emphasize the scale of your task than comparing it to the creation of the world. Grandiose or not, Monte Cristo manages to communicate just how much energy he's put into his work.
"And all this, good Lord, because my heart, which I thought was dead, was only numbed; because it awoke, it beat; because I gave way to the pain of that beating which had been aroused in my breast by the voice of a woman!
"And yet," the count went on, lapsing more and more into anticipation of the dreadful future that Mercédès had made him accept, "and yet it is impossible that that woman, with such a noble heart, could for purely selfish reasons have agreed to let me be killed when I am so full of life and strength. It is not possible that she should take her maternal love, or, rather, her maternal delirium, that far! Some virtues, when taken to the extreme, become crimes." (90.5-6)
In short, it is possible to be too concerned, to care too much.
"You see," said the count. "You do want to kill yourself: here it is in black and white!"
"Very well," Morrel exclaimed, instantaneously switching from an appearance of calm to one of extreme violence. "Very well, suppose that is so, suppose I have decided to turn the barrel of this pistol against myself, who will stop me? Who will have the courage to stop me? Suppose I should say: all my hopes are dashed, my heart is broken, my life is extinguished, there is nothing about me except mourning and horror, the earth has turned to ashes and every human voice is tearing me apart…Suppose I should say: it is only humane to let me die because, if you do not, I shall lose my reason, I shall become mad…Tell me, Monsieur, if I should say that, and when it is seen that it is voiced with the anguish and the tears of my heart, will anyone answer me: "You are wrong?" Will anyone prevent me from being the most unhappy of creatures? Tell me, Count, would you have the courage to do so?" (105. 73-74)
The short answer to Morrel's final question is "Yes," and the Count tells him so. No predicament is insurmountable and no battle unwinnable.
"I think ill of the past," he said, "and cannot have been mistaken in that way. What! Could the goal that I set myself have been wrong? What, have I been on the wrong road for the past ten years? What, can it be that in a single hour the architect can become convinced that the work into which he has put all his hopes was, if not impossible, sacrilegious?
"I cannot accept that idea, because it would drive me mad." (113.5-6)
If you've ever spent a long time working on anything you know the feeling: that gnawing fear that maybe, somewhere you got off track, that you didn't follow directions and are now doing exactly what you were trying to avoid.
"So, do live and be happy, children dear to my heart, and never forget that, until the day when God deigns to unveil the future to mankind, all human wisdom is contained in these two words: 'wait' and 'hope'!" (117.150)
The Count strips away all the dirt and the grit and the blood and gets down to the wholesome core. The Count of Monte Cristo isn't just about revenge – it's about patience and optimism.
"and Ali, lying in his tomb, left the traitor unpunished, but I, who have also been betrayed, assassinated and cast into a tomb, I have emerged from that tomb by the grace of God and I owe it to God to take my revenge. He sent me for that purpose. Here I am." (89.43)
Here, though, Monte Cristo tells Mercédès that God requires someone to do his will, and that he is that man.
"Poor young man!" Monte Cristo muttered, so low that even he could not hear these words of compassion as he spoke them. "It is written that the sins of the father shall be visited on the sons, even to the third and fourth generation." (85.135)
As far as Monte Cristo is concerned, Justice is a powerful and unrelenting force.
A moment later, the door through which the priest had entered opened and Monte Cristo appeared. "Forgive me, dear Baron," he said, "but one of my good friends, Abbé Busoni, whom you saw enter, has just arrived in Paris. It is a long time since we last met and I could not tear myself away from him immediately. I hope that this reason will be sufficient to persuade you to excuse me for keeping you waiting." (66.6)
The facility with which the Count can change his appearance and behavior is amazing, at times comically so.
"For in spite of all my woes, in spite of all my tortures, I can now show you a face rejuvenated by the joy of revenge, a face that you must have seen often in your dreams since your marriage…your marriage to my fiancée, Mercédès!" (92.105)
Here, the most powerful transformation is actually a return to the original state, a regression.
"What is truly desirable? A possession that we cannot have. So, my life is devoted to seeing things that I cannot understand and obtaining things that are impossible to have. I succeed by two means: money and will. I am as persevering in the pursuit of my whims as, for example, you are, Monsieur Danglars, in building a railway; or you, Monsieur de Villefort, in condemning a man to death; or you, Monsieur Debray, pacifying a kingdom; you, Monsieur de Château-Renaud, in finding favour with a woman; or you, Monsieur Morrel, in breaking a horse that no one else can ride." (63.7)
By seeking the impossible, the Count provides himself with limitless fodder for his plans. They may be a pretext to cover up his larger goal, but they're still stunning.
"And all this, good Lord, because my heart, which I thought was dead, was only numbed; because it awoke, it beat; because I gave way to the pain of that beating which had been aroused in my breast by the voice of a woman!
"And yet," the count went on, lapsing more and more into anticipation of the dreadful future that Mercédès had made him accept, "and yet it is impossible that that woman, with such a noble heart, could for purely selfish reasons have agreed to let me be killed when I am so full of life and strength. It is not possible that she should take her maternal love, or, rather, her maternal delirium, that far! Some virtues, when taken to the extreme, become crimes." (90.5-6, our emphasis)
The last line says it all: unchecked ambition can be dangerous, and sometimes deadly.
"Like a benefactor in a novel, I should have left without seeing you again; but such conduct was beyond my feeble powers, because I am a weak and vain man, and because a joyful and tender look from one of my fellow-creatures does me good. Now I am leaving, and I shall take selfishness to the point of saying to you: Don't forget me, my friends, because you will probably never see me again." (112.41)
Monte Cristo is ashamed that he should require recognition for his good deeds. He wants to believe that he can do something and not expect, not want anything in return.
"What I mean, my dear fellow," the Count says, "is that I shall do more by myself with my gold than you and all your people with their daggers, their pistols, their carbines and their blunderbusses. So let me do it." (34.39)
The Count lets Luigi Vampa know that, sometimes, the coin is mightier than the sword. This kind of passive influence is Monte Cristo's stock in trade, and Peppino's rescue seems to prove its effectiveness.
"To me, a good servant is one over whom I have the power of life and death."
"And do you have the power of life and death over Bertuccio?" Albert asked.
"Yes," the count said curtly. Some words end a conversation like a steel door falling. The count's "Yes" was one of those words. (85.119-120)
The power over life and death is definitely the ultimate form of control. That Edmond should need to have it over every servant speaks to his exacting (and ruthless) nature.