Revenge over and under the waves

September has definitely been French month - the better part of a fortnight spent in chilly but beautiful Cevennes, and two great classic French novels, which are not unrelated to each other - Jules Vernes' Twenty thousand leagues under the sea and Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo.

Count of Monte Cristo really surprised me. It's an incredibly readable, if sprawling tale, that must have influenced many another book - Les Miserables, A Tale of Two Cities, and, I suspect, most notably Vernes' classic sci-fi novel Twenty thousand leagues under the sea, to mention just a few. The edition I read was the Wordsworth edition, which featured an old translation, along with a new preface and notes by editor, Keith Wren. Preface and notes are excellent, if occasionally laugh-out loud funny. Wren is not a big fan of the translation, and his comments are often acerbic; but there's some very helpful information about Dumas' writing methods and the issues around serialisation (like many of Dumas' novels, Monte Cristo, was originally serialised, with Dumas writing at speed for each new episode).


The novel itself calls for a huge suspension of disbelief as coincidences abound, most people fail to notice the obvious, and Dumas himself forgets quite what he was doing with his characters (an unfortunate peril of being a writer of serials). It's a rip-roaring tale though with some great characters that drags the reader along with it, happily dispensing with any notions of reality as you get deeper into the plot.

Edmond Dantes, the hero, begins a descent into Hell (it's no coincidence that his surname is very close to the Inferno's Dante), when jealous acquaintances conspire against him, and see him condemned to the notorious Chateau d'If - the Alcatraz of Marseilles. Dantes loses everything - his liberty, his optimistic nature and (unknown even to himself at this time) his father, who dies a horrible death in penury, and his fiancee, who unknowingly marries one of the men who conspired to send him to prison. On the brink of suicide Dantes is saved when he meets a fellow prisoner, who gives him an education, and shows him how to escape jail. In doing so, the Abbe Faria saves Dantes both mentally and physically.

Dantes however is scarred by his time spent in prison, and after escaping becomes determined to avenge himself on those who ruined him. He takes on the alter ego of the Count of Monte Cristo, and becomes a sort of superhero bent on dispensing justice.

Yes, much of it is completely daft; but Dumas has a great gift for making you believe in his characters, the story, confusing as it is at times, races along at a great pace and there's something for everyone - from political jiggery-pokery to romance, a touch of comedy, even a murder mystery. There are also some truly jaw-dropping moments guaranteed to delight any adventurous reader's heart - I don't think I'll ever forget the account of Dantes' escape from Chateau d'If. There are also some delightful characters ranging from the Count himself to villainous if pathetic Caderousse (surely an early version of Hugo's Thenardier). What makes Les Miserables the greater novel though is the character of Jean Valjean, who remains human, but also a remarkable example of good triumphing over evil. Hard as Edmond Dantes tries, he is irrevocably marked by his experiences, and this reflects on his interactions with all around him.

As an adventure story I loved this, I also loved some of the characters who seemed to be strangely ahead of their time such as the dashing Mademoiselle Danglars; but in some ways it is very much a child of the period in which it was written. Monte Cristo's attitudes towards slavery and cruelty are difficult to read; but it is nevertheless a great roller-coaster of a read.

So, what connection can the story of a sea-faring man in The Count of Monte Cristo have in common with Verne's sci-fi classic, Twenty thousand leagues under the sea? Both novels have men who love the sea at their heart, and in both cases the men are set on revenge against those who have wronged them. The central plot of Verne's novel is very similar to that of Dumas'. A tale of revenge meted out by a wronged man (although we know very little of the backstory of Captain Nemo), who has become fabulously wealthy, and so is able to do whatever he wants.

Frontispiece to the 1871 edition

Twenty thousand leagues revolves around Professor Pierre Arronax, a zoologist, who is asked to undertake an investigation when a sea-monster (believed to be a giant whale) causes problems to shipping in the Pacific and Atlantic. Arronax along with his faithful servant, Conseil (a nautical Passepartout), and Ned Land, a famed whaler, set out to find the monster. The monster however turns out not to be a whale but a submarine, owned by the enigmatic Captain Nemo, a Renaissance man with murderous intent. Arronax is captivated by the charismatic villain, who he sees as a fellow scientist, but Ned Land, the most down-to-earth of the party, is desperate to return home.

If Monte Cristo was about the haut monde, social appearance, and outward trappings, Twenty thousand leagues is the opposite as it examines the inward mind of man; and how intellectual advances can change society. It's also an early example of the sci-fi novel warning against the perils of science itself. Much of Twenty thousand leagues shows science at its very best - making use of new discoveries for the greater good of mankind (Nemo produces an abundant range of clothes, fuel and food all from natural resources derived from the sea). While travel opens the mind, and reveals the amazing riches and wonder of the ocean; but Arronax also becomes deluded by these positives, and fails to see the danger in Nemo, who although a genius is mentally damaged by his life experiences and is now set to wreak revenge on whoever crosses his path.

Twenty thousand leagues is a great tour-de-force, a thrilling adventure into an unknown land. Reading it today, so much of it seems obvious - of course, we can wander under the sea, yes, we can harvest what we will, but Verne's novel was written at the cutting edge of marine science. It was only within the decade in which he was writing that submarines were first used in warfare - surprisingly this particular sub was "people-powered", it would be later in the same decade before a French submarine was able to dive using compressed air as a means of propulsion. The novel is stuffed with the latest scientific facts, some of which were undoubtedly true, some probably made up by Verne, but he writes so beautifully and inventively that it's hard to see which is which.

Along with the power of science, and the dangers of science, this is an oddly 21st century novel in which Nemo could almost be seen as a bit of an ecological crusader, battling to maintain the equanimity of the biospheres through which his submarine home, the Nautilus, moves. Yes, we can harvest where we will, but should we?

Twenty thousand leagues is a fascinating journey into another world that to a 21st century reader feels both familiar and different, for Victorian me I think it would have been a fascinating if frightening world. Verne's novel is apparently the favourite novel of French President, Emmanuel Macron, who recently named the new "First Dog" Nemo, in honour of his hero. It's good to see that Verne is still as popular in France as ever. Verne was an extraordinary man, who had the knack of making the impossible seem possible, and as has been proved many times, he was quite right. Two thrilling reads with fascinating connections. I've enjoyed "French" month.