Chapter 16 A Learned Italian
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SEIZING
IN HIS arms the friend so long and ardently desired, Dant¨¨s almost carried him towards the
window, in order to obtain a better view of his features by the aid of the
imperfect light that struggled through the grating. He
was a man of small stature, with hair blanched rather by suffering and
sorrow than by age. He had a deep-set, penetrating eye, almost buried
beneath the thick gray eyebrow, and a long (and still black) beard
reaching down to his breast. His thin face, deeply furrowed by care, and
the bold outline of his strongly marked features, betokened a man more
accustomed to exercise his mental faculties than his physical strength.
Large drops of perspiration were now standing on his brow, while the
garments that hung about him were so ragged that one could only guess at
the pattern upon which they had originally been fashioned. The
stranger might have numbered sixty or sixty-five years; but a certain
briskness and appearance of vigor in his movements made it probable that
he was aged more from captivity than the course of time. He received the
enthusiastic greeting of his young acquaintance with evident pleasure, as
though his chilled affections were rekindled and invigorated by his
contact with one so warm and ardent. He thanked him with grateful
cordiality for his kindly welcome, although he must at that moment have
been suffering bitterly to find another dungeon where he had fondly
reckoned on discovering a means of regaining his liberty. "Let
us first see," said he, "whether it is possible to remove the
traces of my entrance here--our future tranquillity depends upon our
jailers being entirely ignorant of it." Advancing to the opening, he
stooped and raised the stone easily in spite of its weight; then, fitting
it into its place, he said,-- "You
removed this stone very carelessly; but I suppose you had no tools to aid
you." "Why,"
exclaimed Dant¨¨s,
with astonishment, "do you possess any?" "I
made myself some; and with the exception of a file, I have all that are
necessary,--a chisel, pincers, and lever." "Oh,
how I should like to see these products of your industry and
patience." "Well,
in the first place, here is my chisel." So saying, he displayed a
sharp strong blade, with a handle made of beechwood. "And
with what did you contrive to make that?" inquired Dant¨¨s. "With
one of the clamps of my bedstead; and this very tool has sufficed me to
hollow out the road by which I came hither, a distance of about fifty
feet." "Fifty
feet!" responded Dant¨¨s,
almost terrified. "Do
not speak so loud, young man--don't speak so loud. It frequently occurs in
a state prison like this, that persons are stationed outside the doors of
the cells purposely to overhear the conversation of the prisoners." "But
they believe I am shut up alone here." "That
makes no difference." "And
you say that you dug your way a distance of fifty feet to get here?" "I
do; that is about the distance that separates your chamber from mine;
only, unfortunately, I did not curve aright; for want of the necessary
geometrical instruments to calculate my scale of proportion, instead of
taking an ellipsis of forty feet, I made it fifty. I expected, as I told
you, to reach the outer wall, pierce through it, and throw myself into the
sea; I have, however, kept along the corridor on which your chamber opens,
instead of going beneath it. My labor is all in vain, for I find that the
corridor looks into a courtyard filled with soldiers." "That's
true," said Dant¨¨s;
"but the corridor you speak of only bounds one side of my cell; there
are three others--do you know anything of their situation?" "This
one is built against the solid rock, and it would take ten experienced
miners, duly furnished with the requisite tools, as many years to
perforate it. This adjoins the lower part of the governor's apartments,
and were we to work our way through, we should only get into some lock-up
cellars, where we must necessarily be recaptured. The fourth and last side
of your cell faces on--faces on--stop a minute, now where does it
face?" The
wall of which he spoke was the one in which was fixed the loophole by
which light was admitted to the chamber. This loophole, which gradually
diminished in size as it approached the outside, to an opening through
which a child could not have passed, was, for better security, furnished
with three iron bars, so as to quiet all apprehensions even in the mind of
the most suspicious jailer as to the possibility of a prisoner's escape.
As the stranger asked the question, he dragged the table beneath the
window. "Climb
up," said he to Dant¨¨s.
The young man obeyed, mounted on the table, and, divining the wishes of
his companion, placed his back securely against the wall and held out both
hands. The stranger, whom as yet Dant¨¨s
knew only by the number of his cell, sprang up with an agility by no means
to be expected in a person of his years, and, light and steady on his feet
as a cat or a lizard, climbed from the table to the outstretched hands of
Dant¨¨s, and from them to his
shoulders; then, bending double, for the ceiling of the dungeon prevented
him from holding himself erect, he managed to slip his head between the
upper bars of the window, so as to be able to command a perfect view from
top to bottom. An
instant afterwards he hastily drew back his head, saying, "I thought
so!" and sliding from the shoulders of Dant¨¨s as dextrously as he had ascended, he nimbly leaped
from the table to the ground. "What was it that you thought?"
asked the young man anxiously, in his turn descending from the table. The
elder prisoner pondered the matter. "Yes," said he at length,
"it is so. This side of your chamber looks out upon a kind of open
gallery, where patrols are continually passing, and sentries keep watch
day and night." "Are
you quite sure of that?" "Certain.
I saw the soldier's shape and the top of his musket; that made me draw in
my head so quickly, for I was fearful he might also see me." "Well?"
inquired Dant¨¨s.
"You
perceive then the utter impossibility of escaping through your
dungeon?" "Then,"
pursued the young man eagerly-- "Then,"
answered the elder prisoner, "the will of God be done!" and as
the old man slowly pronounced those words, an air of profound resignation
spread itself over his careworn countenance. Dant¨¨s gazed on the man who could thus philosophically
resign hopes so long and ardently nourished with an astonishment mingled
with admiration. "Tell
me, I entreat of you, who and what you are?" said he at length;
"never have I met with so remarkable a person as yourself." "Willingly,"
answered the stranger; "if, indeed, you feel any curiosity respecting
one, now, alas, powerless to aid you in any way." "Say
not so; you can console and support me by the strength of your own
powerful mind. Pray let me know who you really are?" The
stranger smiled a melancholy smile. "Then listen," said he.
"l am the Abb¨¦ Faria, and have been imprisoned
as you know in this Chateau d'If since the year 1811; previously to which
I had been confined for three years in the fortress of Fenestrelle. In the
year 1811 I was transferred to Piedmont in France. It was at this period I
learned that the destiny which seemed subservient to every wish formed by
Napoleon, had bestowed on him a son, named king of Rome even in his
cradle. I was very far then from expecting the change you have just
informed me of; namely, that four years afterwards, this colossus of power
would be overthrown. Then who reigns in France at this moment--Napoleon
II?" "No,
Louis XVIII." "The
brother of Louis XVII! How inscrutable are the ways of providence--for
what great and mysterious purpose has it pleased heaven to abase the man
once so elevated, and raise up him who was so abased?" Dant¨¨s, whole attention was riveted on
a man who could thus forget his own misfortunes while occupying himself
with the destinies of others. "Yes,
yes," continued he, "'Twill be the same as it was in England.
After Charles I., Cromwell; after Cromwell, Charles II, and then James II,
and then some son-in-law or relation, some Prince of Orange, a stadtholder
who becomes a king. Then new concessions to the people, then a
constitution, then liberty. Ah, my friend!" said the abb¨¦, turning towards Dant¨¨s, and surveying him with the
kindling gaze of a prophet, "you are young, you will see all this
come to pass." "Probably,
if ever I get out of prison!" "True,"
replied Faria, "we are prisoners; but I forget this sometimes, and
there are even moments when my mental vision transports me beyond these
walls, and I fancy myself at liberty." "But
wherefore are you here?" "Because
in 1807 I dreamed of the very plan Napoleon tried to realize in 1811;
because, like Machiavelli, I desired to alter the political face of Italy,
and instead of allowing it to be split up into a quantity of petty
principalities, each held by some weak or tyrannical ruler, I sought to
form one large, compact, and powerful empire; and, lastly, because I
fancied I had found my C?sar Borgia in a crowned simpleton, who feigned to
enter into my views only to betray me. It was the plan of Alexander VI and
Clement VII, but it will never succeed now, for they attempted it
fruitlessly, and Napoleon was unable to complete his work. Italy seems
fated to misfortune." And the old man bowed his head. Dant¨¨s could not understand a man
risking his life for such matters. Napoleon certainly he knew something
of, inasmuch as he had seen and spoken with him; but of Clement VII and
Alexander VI he knew nothing. "Are
you not," he asked, "the priest who here in the Chateau d'If is
generally thought to be--ill?" "Mad,
you mean, don't you?" "I
did not like to say so," answered Dant¨¨s, smiling. "Well,
then," resumed Faria with a bitter smile, "let me answer your
question in full, by acknowledging that I am the poor mad prisoner of the
Chateau d'If, for many years permitted to amuse the different visitors
with what is said to be my insanity; and, in all probability, I should be
promoted to the honor of making sport for the children, if such innocent
beings could be found in an abode devoted like this to suffering and
despair." Dant¨¨s remained for a short time mute
and motionless; at length he said,--"Then you abandon all hope of
escape?" "I
perceive its utter impossibility; and I consider it impious to attempt
that which the Almighty evidently does not approve." "Nay,
be not discouraged. Would it not be expecting too much to hope to succeed
at your first attempt? Why not try to find an opening in another direction
from that which has so unfortunately failed?" "Alas,
it shows how little notion you can have of all it has cost me to effect a
purpose so unexpectedly frustrated, that you talk of beginning over again.
In the first place, I was four years making the tools I possess, and have
been two years scraping and digging out earth, hard as granite itself;
then what toil and fatigue has it not been to remove huge stones I should
once have deemed impossible to loosen. Whole days have I passed in these
Titanic efforts, considering my labor well repaid if, by night-time I had
contrived to carry away a square inch of this hard-bound cement, changed
by ages into a substance unyielding as the stones themselves; then to
conceal the mass of earth and rubbish I dug up, I was compelled to break
through a staircase, and throw the fruits of my labor into the hollow part
of it; but the well is now so completely choked up, that I scarcely think
it would be possible to add another handful of dust without leading to
discovery. Consider also that I fully believed I had accomplished the end
and aim of my undertaking, for which I had so exactly husbanded my
strength as to make it just hold out to the termination of my enterprise;
and now, at the moment when I reckoned upon success, my hopes are forever
dashed from me. No, I repeat again, that nothing shall induce me to renew
attempts evidently at variance with the Almighty's pleasure." Dant¨¨s held down his head, that the
other might not see how joy at the thought of having a companion
outweighed the sympathy he felt for the failure of the abb¨¦'s plans. The
abb¨¦ sank upon Edmond's bed. while
Edmond himself remained standing. Escape had never once occurred to him.
There are, indeed, some things which appear so impossible that the mind
does not dwell on them for an instant. To undermine the ground for fifty
feet--to devote three years to a labor which, if successful, would conduct
you to a precipice overhanging the sea--to plunge into the waves from the
height of fifty, sixty, perhaps a hundred feet, at the risk of being
dashed to pieces against the rocks, should you have been fortunate enough
to have escaped the fire of the sentinels; and even, supposing all these
perils past, then to have to swim for your life a distance of at least
three miles ere you could reach the shore--were difficulties so startling
and formidable that Dant¨¨s had never even dreamed of such
a scheme, resigning himself rather to death. But the sight of an old man
clinging to life with so desperate a courage, gave a fresh turn to his
ideas, and inspired him with new courage. Another, older and less strong
than he, had attempted what he had not had sufficient resolution to
undertake, and had failed only because of an error in calculation. This
same person, with almost incredible patience and perseverance, had
contrived to provide himself with tools requisite for so unparalleled an
attempt. Another had done all this; why, then, was it impossible to Dant¨¨s?
Faria had dug his way through fifty feet, Dant¨¨s would dig a hundred; Faria, at the age of fifty,
had devoted three years to the task; he, who was but half as old, would
sacrifice six; Faria, a priest and savant, had not shrunk from the idea of
risking his life by trying to swim a distance of three miles to one of the
islands--Daume, Rattonneau, or Lemaire; should a hardy sailer, an
experienced diver, like himself, shrink from a similar task; should he,
who had so often for mere amusement's sake plunged to the bottom of the
sea to fetch up the bright coral branch, hesitate to entertain the same
project? He could do it in an hour, and how many times had he, for pure
pastime, continued in the water for more than twice as long! At once Dant¨¨s resolved to follow the brave example of his
energetic companion, and to remember that what has once been done may be
done again. After
continuing some time in profound meditation, the young man suddenly
exclaimed, "I have found what you were in search of!" Faria
started: "Have you, indeed?" cried he, raising his head with
quick anxiety; "pray, let me know what it is you have
discovered?" "The
corridor through which you have bored your way from the cell you occupy
here, extends in the same direction as the outer gallery, does it
not?" "It
does." "And
is not above fifteen feet from it?" "About
that." "Well,
then, I will tell you what we must do. We must pierce through the corridor
by forming a side opening about the middle, as it were the top part of a
cross. This time you will lay your plans more accurately; we shall get out
into the gallery you have described; kill the sentinel who guards it, and
make our escape. All we require to insure success is courage, and that you
possess, and strength, which I am not deficient in; as for patience, you
have abundantly proved yours--you shall now see me prove mine." "One
instant, my dear friend," replied the abb¨¦; "it is clear you do not understand the nature
of the courage with which I am endowed, and what use I intend making of my
strength. As for patience, I consider that I have abundantly exercised
that in beginning every morning the task of the night before, and every
night renewing the task of the day. But then, young man (and I pray of you
to give me your full attention), then I thought I could not be doing
anything displeasing to the Almighty in trying to set an innocent being at
liberty--one who had committed no offence, and merited not
condemnation." "And
have your notions changed?" asked Dant¨¨s with much surprise; "do you think yourself
more guilty in making the attempt since you have encountered me?" "No;
neither do I wish to incur guilt. Hitherto I have fancied myself merely
waging war against circumstances, not men. I have thought it no sin to
bore through a wall, or destroy a staircase; but I cannot so easily
persuade myself to pierce a heart or take away a life." A slight
movement of surprise escaped Dant¨¨s. "Is
it possible," said he, "that where your liberty is at stake you
can allow any such scruple to deter you from obtaining it?" "Tell
me," replied Faria, "what has hindered you from knocking down
your jailer with a piece of wood torn from your bedstead, dressing
yourself in his clothes, and endeavoring to escape?" "Simply
the fact that the idea never occurred to me," answered Dant¨¨s. "Because,"
said the old man, "the natural repugnance to the commission of such a
crime prevented you from thinking of it; and so it ever is because in
simple and allowable things our natural instincts keep us from deviating
from the strict line of duty. The tiger, whose nature teaches him to
delight in shedding blood, needs but the sense of smell to show him when
his prey is within his reach, and by following this instinct he is enabled
to measure the leap necessary to permit him to spring on his victim; but
man, on the contrary, loathes the idea of blood--it is not alone that the
laws of social life inspire him with a shrinking dread of taking life; his
natural construction and physiological formation"-- Dant¨¨s was confused and silent at this
explanation of the thoughts which had unconsciously been working in his
mind, or rather soul; for there are two distinct sorts of ideas, those
that proceed from the head and those that emanate from the heart. "Since
my imprisonment," said Faria, "I have thought over all the most
celebrated cases of escape on record. They have rarely been successful.
Those that have been crowned with full success have been long meditated
upon, and carefully arranged; such, for instance, as the escape of the Duc
de Beaufort from the Chateau de Vincennes, that of the Abb¨¦ Dubuquoi from For l'Ev¨ºque; of Latude from the Bastille.
Then there are those for which chance sometimes affords opportunity, and
those are the best of all. Let us, therefore, wait patiently for some
favorable moment, and when it presents itself, profit by it." "Ah,"
said Dant¨¨s,
"you might well endure the tedious delay; you were constantly
employed in the task you set yourself, and when weary with toil, you had
your hopes to refresh and encourage you." "I
assure you," replied the old man, "I did not turn to that source
for recreation or support." "What
did you do then?" "I
wrote or studied." "Were
you then permitted the use of pens, ink, and paper?" "Oh,
no," answered the abb¨¦;
"I had none but what I made for myself." "You
made paper, pens and ink?" "Yes."
Dant¨¨s gazed with admiration, but he
had some difficulty in believing. Faria saw this. "When
you pay me a visit in my cell, my young friend," said he, "I
will show you an entire work, the fruits of the thoughts and reflections
of my whole life; many of them meditated over in the shades of the
Coloseum at Rome, at the foot of St. Mark's column at Venice, and on the
borders of the Arno at Florence, little imagining at the time that they
would be arranged in order within the walls of the Chateau d'If. The work
I speak of is called A Treatise on the Possibility of a General Monarchy
in Italy, and will make one large quarto volume." "And
on what have you written all this?" "On
two of my shirts. I invented a preparation that makes linen as smooth and
as easy to write on as parchment." "You
are, then, a chemist?" "Somewhat;
I know Lavoisier, and was the intimate friend of Cabanis." "But
for such a work you must have needed books--had you any?" "I
had nearly five thousand volumes in my library at Rome; but after reading
them over many times, I found out that with one hundred and fifty
well-chosen books a man possesses, if not a complete summary of all human
knowledge, at least all that a man need really know. I devoted three years
of my life to reading and studying these one hundred and fifty volumes,
till I knew them nearly by heart; so that since I have been in prison, a
very slight effort of memory has enabled me to recall their contents as
readily as though the pages were open before me. I could recite you the
whole of Thucydides, Xenophon, Plutarch, Titus Livius, Tacitus, Strada,
Jornand¨¨s,
Dante, Montaigne, Shakspeare, Spinoza, Machiavelli, and Bossuet. I name
only the most important." "You
are, doubtless, acquainted with a variety of languages, so as to have been
able to read all these?" "Yes,
I speak five of the modern tongues--that is to say, German, French,
Italian, English, and Spanish; by the aid of ancient Greek I learned
modern Greek--I don't speak it so well as I could wish, but I am still
trying to improve myself." "Improve
yourself!" repeated Dant¨¨s;
"why, how can you manage to do so?" "Why,
I made a vocabulary of the words I knew; turned, returned, and arranged
them, so as to enable me to express my thoughts through their medium. I
know nearly one thousand words, which is all that is absolutely necessary,
although I believe there are nearly one hundred thousand in the
dictionaries. I cannot hope to be very fluent, but I certainly should have
no difficulty in explaining my wants and wishes; and that would be quite
as much as I should ever require." Stronger
grew the wonder of Dant¨¨s,
who almost fancied he had to do with one gifted with supernatural powers;
still hoping to find some imperfection which might bring him down to a
level with human beings, he added, "Then if you were not furnished
with pens, how did you manage to write the work you speak of?" "I
made myself some excellent ones, which would be universally preferred to
all others if once known. You are aware what huge whitings are served to
us on maigre days. Well, I selected the cartilages of the heads of these
fishes, and you can scarcely imagine the delight with which I welcomed the
arrival of each Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, as affording me the means
of increasing my stock of pens; for I will freely confess that my
historical labors have been my greatest solace and relief. While retracing
the past, I forget the present; and traversing at will the path of history
I cease to remember that I am myself a prisoner." "But
the ink," said Dant¨¨s;
"of what did you make your ink?" "There
was formerly a fireplace in my dungeon," replied Faria, "but it
was closed up long ere I became an occupant of this prison. Still, it must
have been many years in use, for it was thickly covered with a coating of
soot; this soot I dissolved in a portion of the wine brought to me every
Sunday, and I assure you a better ink cannot be desired. For very
important notes, for which closer attention is required, I pricked one of
my fingers, and wrote with my own blood." "And
when," asked Dant¨¨s,
"may I see all this?" "Whenever
you please," replied the abb¨¦. "Oh,
then let it be directly!" exclaimed the young man. "Follow
me, then," said the abb¨¦,
as he re-entered the subterranean passage, in which he soon disappeared,
followed by Dant¨¨s.
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