Dumas keeps the mystery about how the Count found Haydée. Monte Cristo himself says that she became his slave “simply from the circumstance of my having bought her one day, as I was passing through the market at Constantinople” (ch.77). However, considering his desire to punish his enemies, there is no doubt that chance had nothing to do with this. On the contrary, he must have looked for her, as he saw in the daughter of Ali Pasha an instrument of his vengeance. But the similarity of their sufferings (captivity, loss of the loved ones), inflicted on them by the same man, brings them near. The Count makes her his daughter, “having no one else to love in the world” (ch.70) and sheds over her a paternal love (“I love you as [my] child”, ch.49; “the Count of Monte Cristo surrounds me with every paternal care”, ch.86; “I have brought [her] up with the love of a father”, ch.90). For her part, Haydée calls him her “noble protector” (ch.86) and likens him to her father, as the only two men whom she ever loved: “My father said I was his joy-you style me your love,-and both of you have called me [your] child” (ch.49). Haydée has towards Monte Cristo the attitude of a slave towards her master (“Are you no longer my master, or have I ceased to be your slave?”, ch.49; “He is my master, and I am his slave; he has the right to notice nothing”, ch. 117), of a daughter towards her father, but also of a woman in love towards her lover (she “kissed [his hand] with a mixture of love and respect”, ch.45; she greets him after the duel with “[all the enthousiasme of a daughter seeing a dear father], all the delight of a mistress seeing an adored lover”, ch.92). Several times she makes quite clear that she feels for him a different love than that of a daughter for her father (“‘He is here, and here’, said she, touching her eyes and her heart. [...] ‘You? [...] you are everywhere!’”; “In the morning, I shall rejoice in the prospect of your coming, and in the evening dwell with delight on the happiness I have enjoyed in your presence”; “The love I have for you is very different from the love I had for my father” ch.49). Still, she is not coquettish or yet, her artlessness is her coquetry: “Monte Cristo took the delicate hand of the young girl in his, and was about to raise it to his lips, when the [naive] child hastily withdrew it, and presented her cheek” (ch.49). The extent of her love is described in the last chapter (Dumas, 1998, vol. 6, pp. 426-427): “I love you as one loves her father, her brother, her husband! I love you as one loves her life, her God, for you are for me the most beautiful, the best and the greatest of created beings!”. She loves him to the point of dying if he were to die: “I never will leave you, for I am sure I could not exist without you”; “My father died, but I did not die. [Whereas] If you were to die, I should die too” (ch.49); “Well, if you die, [...] bequeath your fortune to others, for if you die I shall require nothing” (ch.90); or if he were to leave her: “‘You mean, then, that if I leave you, Haidee’ - ‘I should die; yes, my lord’" (ch.117). In this, maybe even more than in her appearance, she resembles Medora (“she is just my idea of what Medora must have been”, ch.34), the beautiful fair from Lord Byron’s Corsair, who kills herself as she believes her lover to be dead (Canto III, 19-21). Haidee from the Byronian Don Juan, who inspired Dumas in the choice of name for his character, also dies of grief at losing her lover (Canto IV). Haydée would also make the sacrifice of her life for him (“[...] me, who would yield my life for his”, ch.117), hence she is able to feel when he is in danger (“She had been standing at the door, to prevent his going out without seeing her [...] ‘she wished to see me, to speak to me; she has feared or guessed something’”; “Do you think of dying, my lord?”, ch.90). This thought makes her suffer (“And what I have suffered [...] you shall never know, my lord”), but her subsequent relief couldn’t be greater (“radiant with joy at seeing the count return safely”, ch.92). The fear of losing him (“Are you going to leave me?”, ch.90) turns her usual gentleness into authority (“an authoritative tone the count had never observed before, and which startled him”, ch.90; “this energy so unusual for a slave”, Dumas, 1998, vol. 5, p. 287). Then again, the obedience she owes him as sign of her gratitude and love is much stronger than her own suffering: “It is well,[...] your order shall be executed, my lord; I will forget even your name, and be happy” (ch.117).
Wow!! I love this comment! Going through it for the first time, I knew that there were things that I missed. I know this book is a classic for a good reason. Thank you for detailing the relationship so specifically! It certainly helps me to see why the ending didn’t come out of nowhere. That’s why Dumas is a timeless writer and I am not. Thanks for joining me!
Sorry it wasn't for you! I haven't read it yet. I really don't understand this thing of being nasty to people for not liking a book. Disagree, fine. But no need to get all personal about it. People are dumb.
I agree! We each have our own reading experience when we pick up a book. I’m completely open to people pointing out what I may have missed, but we should always be encouraging people when they challenge themselves in regards to literature. Thanks for joining me!
Dumas keeps the mystery about how the Count found Haydée. Monte Cristo himself says that she became his slave “simply from the circumstance of my having bought her one day, as I was passing through the market at Constantinople” (ch.77). However, considering his desire to punish his enemies, there is no doubt that chance had nothing to do with this. On the contrary, he must have looked for her, as he saw in the daughter of Ali Pasha an instrument of his vengeance. But the similarity of their sufferings (captivity, loss of the loved ones), inflicted on them by the same man, brings them near. The Count makes her his daughter, “having no one else to love in the world” (ch.70) and sheds over her a paternal love (“I love you as [my] child”, ch.49; “the Count of Monte Cristo surrounds me with every paternal care”, ch.86; “I have brought [her] up with the love of a father”, ch.90). For her part, Haydée calls him her “noble protector” (ch.86) and likens him to her father, as the only two men whom she ever loved: “My father said I was his joy-you style me your love,-and both of you have called me [your] child” (ch.49).
Haydée has towards Monte Cristo the attitude of a slave towards her master (“Are you no longer my master, or have I ceased to be your slave?”, ch.49; “He is my master, and I am his slave; he has the right to notice nothing”, ch. 117), of a daughter towards her father, but also of a woman in love towards her lover (she “kissed [his hand] with a mixture of love and respect”, ch.45; she greets him after the duel with “[all the enthousiasme of a daughter seeing a dear father], all the delight of a mistress seeing an adored lover”, ch.92). Several times she makes quite clear that she feels for him a different love than that of a daughter for her father (“‘He is here, and here’, said she, touching her eyes and her heart. [...] ‘You? [...] you are everywhere!’”; “In the morning, I shall rejoice in the prospect of your coming, and in the evening dwell with delight on the happiness I have enjoyed in your presence”; “The love I have for you is very different from the love I had for my father” ch.49). Still, she is not coquettish or yet, her artlessness is her coquetry: “Monte Cristo took the delicate hand of the young girl in his, and was about to raise it to his lips, when the [naive] child hastily withdrew it, and presented her cheek” (ch.49). The extent of her love is described in the last chapter (Dumas, 1998, vol. 6, pp. 426-427): “I love you as one loves her father, her brother, her husband! I love you as one loves her life, her God, for you are for me the most beautiful, the best and the greatest of created beings!”. She loves him to the point of dying if he were to die: “I never will leave you, for I am sure I could not exist without you”; “My father died, but I did not die. [Whereas] If you were to die, I should die too” (ch.49); “Well, if you die, [...] bequeath your fortune to others, for if you die I shall require nothing” (ch.90); or if he were to leave her: “‘You mean, then, that if I leave you, Haidee’ - ‘I should die; yes, my lord’" (ch.117). In this, maybe even more than in her appearance, she resembles Medora (“she is just my idea of what Medora must have been”, ch.34), the beautiful fair from Lord Byron’s Corsair, who kills herself as she believes her lover to be dead (Canto III, 19-21). Haidee from the Byronian Don Juan, who inspired Dumas in the choice of name for his character, also dies of grief at losing her lover (Canto IV).
Haydée would also make the sacrifice of her life for him (“[...] me, who would yield my life for his”, ch.117), hence she is able to feel when he is in danger (“She had been standing at the door, to prevent his going out without seeing her [...] ‘she wished to see me, to speak to me; she has feared or guessed something’”; “Do you think of dying, my lord?”, ch.90). This thought makes her suffer (“And what I have suffered [...] you shall never know, my lord”), but her subsequent relief couldn’t be greater (“radiant with joy at seeing the count return safely”, ch.92). The fear of losing him (“Are you going to leave me?”, ch.90) turns her usual gentleness into authority (“an authoritative tone the count had never observed before, and which startled him”, ch.90; “this energy so unusual for a slave”, Dumas, 1998, vol. 5, p. 287). Then again, the obedience she owes him as sign of her gratitude and love is much stronger than her own suffering: “It is well,[...] your order shall be executed, my lord; I will forget even your name, and be happy” (ch.117).
Wow!! I love this comment! Going through it for the first time, I knew that there were things that I missed. I know this book is a classic for a good reason. Thank you for detailing the relationship so specifically! It certainly helps me to see why the ending didn’t come out of nowhere. That’s why Dumas is a timeless writer and I am not. Thanks for joining me!
Sorry it wasn't for you! I haven't read it yet. I really don't understand this thing of being nasty to people for not liking a book. Disagree, fine. But no need to get all personal about it. People are dumb.
I agree! We each have our own reading experience when we pick up a book. I’m completely open to people pointing out what I may have missed, but we should always be encouraging people when they challenge themselves in regards to literature. Thanks for joining me!