"
A Learned Italian" was the name given to the sixteenth chapter in the novel
The Count of Monte Cristo, and within that chapter, I was graced by the presence of a singular old man named Faria. "Le Abbe", as poor Edmond Dantes referred to him touched my heart, mind and soul in ways which led me to believe it possible that Providence, the Higher Power, the Divine or whatever term you wish to attribute to the supernatural, exists within the pages of a book.
Deep in the confines of the abyss known as the Chateau d'Iff, i was introduced by quite miraculous chance, to an imprisoned clergy-man. He made himself known to me by his response to Edmond's heartfelt lament: "
Who talks of God and despair at he same time?" The Abbe cried, and in that moment, that small moment, a tiny ray of light seemed to me to issue from the heavens, pierce through the stark stone walls of the chateau d'Iff, and illumed the dark cloud that hovered over Edmond Dantes for so many years. The young sailor's prayers had been answered!
Using an incredible amount of stealth and planning, the duo then plotted a way to meet.
The Abbe, having dug a tunnel through his own cell, intending to painstakingly chip away at the slabs of stone of the prison, by chance, or as we have seen, fate; found himself adjacent to the sailors cell where they began their most remarkable interview. I paused a moment as i read how Faria had alighted in Edmond's cell, like a star that had descended to the earth, which would then subsequently rise from its temporary abode, into cell number 34. Dumas painted this sage thus:"
his stature was small, with hair that was blanched and withered with sorrow, and a countenance that announced a man who was more accustomed to exercise his moral faculties than physical exercise"
Dantes, naturally was overwhelmed with a queer concoction of emotion when he laid his eyes on this poor, rugged creature, which rendered him paradoxically warmed by emotion and chilled to the touch. "
Let us see" The Abbe then said as the pair scrutinized the old man's miscalculations. Dantes, still in a state of wonder, then inquired about the old man's length and manner of imprisonment, which the Abbe, then replied with a lengthy recollection of deception, and a long-concealed parchment containing the whereabouts of a lost treasure.
The new friends then swore to meet in the Abbe's cell where they would proceed with their strategy of escape in more detail. Now as I delved into the low tunnel that formed the portal to Edmond's long lost hope., I, like Edmond, expected to find a chamber, strewn with books and charts of geometry and astronomy, but to my disappointment, i was met by a dingy cell which boasted the most basic furnishings that were permitted to the residents of the dungeons in the Chaetuea d'Iff. "
Come! Show me the wonderful inventions you told me of-I am all impatience to behold them" Begged the young sailor, and at that, the Abbe asked Edmond which he would fancy seeing first. Faria, then proceeded in showing Edmond his collection of literary works on the state of affairs in the Italian monarchy, the works of Thucydides, Xenophon, Shakespeare, Machiavel and the scripts of languages which the Abbe had scrupulously drawn from his memory, which i felt, captured in a brief moment, the sheer brilliance and tenacity of this old man.
Faria had written his work upon thin sheets of linen and old shirts collected from his previous incarceration with such adroit skill and precision, that Edmond marveled at how legible and organised each volume was. He asked the Abbe with what tools he had used to write it all, to which the Abbe then held up an ingeniously shaped pen-knife which had been fashioned out of an old candlestick, that bore a sharp point with a tiny nib with which he could dip into an inkwell, and scribble out his work. "
As for the ink" continued Faria "
There was a fireplace in my dungeon, but it was closed up long before 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."
At this explanation, Edmond found himself in deep reverie as to how this old man, so forlorn, so frail, could muster the devices of his imagination, and use them as crafts for his emancipation. Edmond wrestled with his mind looking for a flaw to attribute to a man who had such vast knowledge in language, politics and life, but to his disappointment, found no imperfection. I believe in that moment of thought, the young sailor discovered the true power that human beings can exert upon their minds. "
What are you thinking of?" asked the Abbe of Edmond in his moment of meditation "
I was reflecting in the first place" Replied Edmond "
Upon the enormous degree of intelligence and ability you must have employed to reach the high perfection to which you have attained;- if you thus surpass all mankind while but a prisoner, what would you not have accomplished free?" The sailor finished.
The Abbe's response to this question left me teary, as he seemed to shatter over million year's worth of human limitation in one simple answer. The Abbe replied thus: "
Probably nothing at all;-the overflow of my brain would probably, in a state of freedom, have evaporated in a thousand follies; it needs trouble and difficulty and danger to hollow out various mysterious and hidden mines of human intelligence. Pressure is required, you know, to ignite powder: captivity has collected into one single focus all the floating faculties of my mind; they have come into close contact in the narrow space in which they have been wedged, and you are well aware that from the collision of clouds electricity is produced-from electricity comes lightning, from whose flash we have light amid our greatest darkness!"
Awe-struck I paused yet again for a moment, and reflected on this eloquently worded reply which seemed to be spoken so nonchalantly by the old man. His words brought back memories of heroes and heroines who have applied this very same philosophy within their lives. Men and women who saw fit to ward off the oft times crushing wave of dire circumstance .These words seemed to echo in my mind, and the sound led me to think about how the greats who came before us had suffered so dearly, and yet they endured. The Abbe showed me in a moment, the indescribable truth that in great turmoil, the human mind seems to unlock itself to reveal a hidden genius that is buried there like the very same treasure that the Abbe so brilliantly found by deciphering the burned parchment in his library. The will to live, that flame that burns with a bright hue in our hearts cannot be extinguished by an external wind, it is everlasting, and it will burn on for an eternity if we can only find it within our hearts and minds to not shy away from the darkness, but to rather walk into it, in order to find ourselves.
I will not delve into the details of the young sailor and his assisted escape, or the manner of the Abbe's death as that would spoil the magic of
The Count Of Monte Cristo, so I will end my eulogy, if you will, by saying that I undoubtedly believe that divine messages come to us in ways in which we least expect, and I was privy to this truth by listening and hanging onto every word spoken by the Abbe Faria. As I read each word, and turned each leaf of the pages within this book, I heard him, and his voice lingered in my ears and echoed in my heart like the voice of God in disguise.
T.B
