History of Human

Thoreau's Civil Disobedience espouses the need to prioritize one's conscience over the dictates of laws. It criticizes American social institutions and policies, most prominently slavery and the Mexican-American War.

Thoreau begins his essay by arguing that government rarely proves itself useful and that it derives its power from the majority because they are the strongest group, not because they hold the most legitimate viewpoint. He contends that people's first obligation is to do what they believe is right and not to follow the law dictated by the majority. When a government is unjust, people should refuse to follow the law and distance themselves from the government in general. A person is not obligated to devote his life to eliminating evils from the world, but he is obligated not to participate in such evils. This includes not being a member of an unjust institution (like the government). Thoreau further argues that the United States fits his criteria for an unjust government, given its support of slavery and its practice of aggressive war.

Thoreau doubts the effectiveness of reform within the government, and he argues that voting and petitioning for change achieves little. He presents his own experiences as a model for how to relate to an unjust government: In protest of slavery, Thoreau refused to pay taxes and spent a night in jail. But, more generally, he ideologically dissociated himself from the government, "washing his hands" of it and refusing to participate in his institutions. According to Thoreau, this form of protest was preferable to advocating for reform from within government; he asserts that one cannot see government for what it is when one is working within it.

Civil Disobedience covers several topics, and Thoreau intersperses poetry and social commentary throughout. For purposes of clarity and readability, the essay has been divided into three sections here, though Thoreau himself made no such divisions.

Henry David Thoreau (July 12, 1817 – May 6, 1862) was an American author, poet, philosopher, polymath,abolitionist, naturalist, tax resister, development critic, surveyor, historian, and leading transcendentalist.[2] He is best known for his book Walden, a reflection upon simple living in natural surroundings, and his essay Resistance to Civil Government (also known as Civil Disobedience), an argument for disobedience to an unjust state. 

Thoreau's books, articles, essays, journals, and poetry total over 20 volumes. Among his lasting contributions are his writings on natural history and philosophy, where he anticipated the methods and findings of ecology and environmental history, two sources of modern-day environmentalism. His literary style interweaves close natural observation, personal experience, pointed rhetoric, symbolicmeanings, and historical lore, while displaying a poetic sensibility, philosophical austerity, and "Yankee" love of practical detail. He was also deeply interested in the idea of survival in the face of hostile elements, historical change, and natural decay; at the same time he advocated abandoning waste and illusion in order to discover life's true essential needs. 

He was a lifelong abolitionist, delivering lectures that attacked the Fugitive Slave Law while praising the writings of Wendell Phillips and defending abolitionist John Brown. Thoreau's philosophy of civil disobedience later influenced the political thoughts and actions of such notable figures as Leo Tolstoy, Mohandas Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Thoreau is sometimes cited as an anarchist. Though Civil Disobedience seems to call for improving rather than abolishing government — "I ask for, not at once no government, but at once a better government" — the direction of this improvement points toward anarchism: "'That government is best which governs not at all;' and when men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which they will have." Richard Drinnon partly blames Thoreau for the ambiguity, noting that Thoreau's "sly satire, his liking for wide margins for his writing, and his fondness for paradox provided ammunition for widely divergent interpretations of 'Civil Disobedience.'

Personal Comment:

Thoreau believes that people should not participate in injustice but that they do not have to actively promote a more just world. 

Edmond Dantès is the apple of this novel's eye. We will follow him over the course of twenty-three years and 117 chapters (yikes). During this time he will pretend to be a number of different people, including Sinbad the Sailor, Lord Wilmore, Abbé Faria, and the Count of Monte Cristo.

Edmond returns from a long journey at sea. The captain of his ship, the Pharaon, has died along the way, and Edmond has successfully lead the crew and the cargo home to Marseilles, France. The ship's owner, Monsieur Morrel, is extremely happy about this. Edmond gets a promotion. He is super-excited to marry the love of his life, a local lady named Mercédès. Everything seems to be going so well.

Unfortunately, there are two men who are severely jealous of Edmond: Danglars, the ship accountant, resents Edmond for his success and his promotion, and Fernand Mondego, a local fisherman, is in love with Mercédès. Danglars decides that they will frame Edmond for treason, telling authorities that Edmond is in possession of an incriminating letter that will prove that he is a supporter of Napoleon. Napoleon is the French Emperor who has recently been stripped of his power and exiled to the island of Elba (check out our "Setting" section for the dirt on Napoleon). Danglars knows that, on their way back to Marseilles, Edmond carried out the dying wish of their ship's captain: he agreed to deliver a package to a close friend of the captain's, and he was given a letter from the island of Elba to deliver to someone in Paris. Edmond doesn't know what either the package or the letter contains.

When Danglars and Fernand falsely accuse Edmond of treason, the authorities capture Edmond, taking him away from his wedding. Edmond then meets Monsieur Villefort, who is kind of like an assistant district attorney, and Monsieur Villefort takes a look at the so-called incriminating letter from Edmond's former ship captain. Monsieur Villefort's eyes get really big, and the next thing we know Edmond is thrown into the Chateau d'If for life. Chateau d'If is a prison on an island in the Mediterranean Sea. It turns out that the letter was written by someone close to Napoleon and was addressed to Monsieur Villefort's father. And so Monsieur Villefort destroys the letter and has its messenger locked up in order to protect his father.

Edmond spends fourteen years in prison. During that time, he almost goes crazy and nearly gives up on life. But then he meets a wealthy Italian prisoner (a priest) called Abbé Faria. The Abbé educates Edmond about all kinds of things, and the two figure out a way to dig an escape route out of the prison. They have big plans, but, at the last minute, the Abbé becomes very sick and dies. The Abbé leaves Edmond directions to a buried treasure on the island of Monte Cristo.

Edmond escapes Chateau d'If by pretending to be the dead Abbé. He swims to safety on a ship, and he eventually finds his way to the island of Monte Cristo, where he finds riches beyond his wildest dreams. With this newfound treasure, Edmond reinvents himself as the Count of Monte Cristo, traveling all over the world buying beautiful things. He begins to hatch an elaborate plot to take revenge on Danglars, Fernand, and Monsieur Villefort.

Eventually, the Count finds himself in Paris where Danglars, Fernand, and Villefort have all settled. Each of them is very wealthy, successful, and married with children. Fernand has married Mercédès. The Count is an instant hit with these social-climbing families. He's mysterious, sophisticated, wise, and elegant – everyone wants to be his best friend. The Count's intricate revenge plot gains momentum in Paris and around Paris where he gradually ruins the lives of each of his enemies.

The Count gives his home on the island of Monte Cristo and his land in France to Maximillian Morrel (the son of Monsieur Morrel), and Max's sweetheart, Valentine Villefort (Villefort's daughter). The Count leaves the island of Monte Cristo and his revenge-loving life behind, choosing to seek a new existence with his new love, Haydée, a former Greek slave. The Count rides off into the sunset.

Alexandre Dumas, the author of The Three Musketeers andThe Count of Monte Cristo, among scores of other novels, was born on July 24, 1802. His father was somewhat of an adventurer-soldier, a mulatto, and was not a favorite of Napoleon because of his staunch republicanism. Therefore, on his father's death in 1806, when Alexandre was only four, the family was left in rather severe financial straits. The young boy's formal education was scanty, most of it provided by a priest, and as soon as he could qualify, Alexandre entered the services of a lawyer. As he grew older, he became close friends with the son of an exiled Swedish nobleman, and the two of them began to dabble in vaudeville enterprises. Later, as a young man, Dumas went to Paris and secured a position as a clerk to the Duc d'Orleans; this was a marvelous stroke of good fortune, for the Duc would soon become king, and Dumas would write a superb Memoir about his many and varied mishaps while he was employed by the future king. 

At the same time, Dumas and his old friend, Leuven, produced several melodramas. When he was twenty-two, however, a melodrama of his own making presented itself: Dumas found himself the father of an illegitimate son by a dressmaker, Marie Labay; when the boy was seven, Dumas went to court to get custody of him, and succeeded. 

Professionally, this was an extremely happy time for Dumas; for six years, he and Leuven had been collaborating on plays, and their legitimate dramas had been staged to much popular acclaim. Then in 1829, Dumas' Henri III et sa cour (Henry III and His Court) was produced; it was Dumas' first spectacular triumph. The Duc was so fond of it that he appointed Dumas the librarian of the Palais Royal. 

The Revolution of 1830 interrupted Dumas' playwriting, and for a pleasant and amusing account of these years, one should consult Dumas' Memoirs for many rich and humorous anecdotes (not worrying unduly about the degree of truth in them, of course). Then, because Dumas was implicated in some "irregularities" during a noted French general's funeral, he suddenly decided to "tour" Switzerland; as a result, we have another long series of delightful Memoirs, this time issued as travel books. It should be noted, though, that Dumas always retained his affectionate relationship with the Duc, and that he eventually returned to France, where he composed many first-rate, long-running plays. 

Dumas' well-known collaboration with Auguste Maquet began in 1837 and resulted in a series of historical novels in which Dumas hoped to reconstruct the major events of French history. For example, the Three Musketeers are united in order to defend the honor of Anne of Austria against Richelieu. This particular novel in the series was so popular that Dumas immediately composed two sequels and, by coincidence,The Count of Monte Cristo was also written during this same period, with the help of collaborators. 

In fact, Dumas, with the aid of collaborators, turned out so much fiction and miscellaneous writing that it has been remarked that "No one has ever read the whole of Dumas, not even himself." We know now, however, that Dumas' assistants only provided him with rough plotlines and suggested incidents to him. He himself filled in the outlines, and all of his novels' manuscripts are in his handwriting. 

Like so many creative and productive men, Dumas' life ended in a series of personal and financial tragedies. He built a strangely beautiful and impressive French Gothic, English Renaissance hybrid mansion and filled it with a multitude of scavenger-friends; both home and hangers-on were tremendous drains on his purse, as was the construction and upkeep of his own theater, the Theatre Historique, built specifically for the performance of his own plays.
In 1851, Dumas moved to Brussels, as much for his political advantage as it was to escape creditors — despite the 1,200 volumes which bore his name — and he died not long after a scandalous liaison with an American circus girl, a situation that he might well have chosen as a fictional framework for his demise. 

Dumas' son, Alexandre Dumas fils, is remembered today chiefly for his first novel, The Lady of the Camellias, which was the basis for the libretto of Verdi's opera La Traviata, as well as for the plot of one of Hollywood's classic films, Camille, starring Greta Garbo.

A. Settings

• Paris
• Marseilles
• Rome
• Monte Cristo
• Greece
• Constantinople

B. latter part

The story begins in 1815 and ends in 1844.

Characters  List:
  
Edmond Dantès (alias the Count of Monte Cristo; his other aliases are Sinbad the Sailor, Abbé Busoni, and Lord Wilmore) Dantès is the dashing and romantic hero of the novel; at the age of nineteen, he is falsely imprisoned for a crime which he did not commit and is kept in the horrible dungeon of the Chateau d'If, where he undergoes unbelievable hardships and sufferings that would destroy an ordinary man. While imprisoned, Dantès hears a fellow prisoner digging a tunnel, and so he too begins digging. When the two men finally meet, the other prisoner turns out to be a learned Abbé, who teaches Dantès many languages, sciences, history, and other subjects. They become as father and son, and when the Abbé is about to die, he reveals to Dantès the hiding place of a long-secret buried treasure, consisting of untold wealth in gold coins, diamonds, and other precious jewels.
After fourteen years of bitter imprisonment and hardships, and after a very daring and miraculous escape, Dantès is able to discover the buried treasure on the island of Monte Cristo, and so he buys the island. He becomes the Count of Monte Cristo and dedicates himself to becoming God's avenging angel. The rest of his life is spent, at first, performing acts of goodness and charity for the good people whom he has known. Then he devotes his life to bringing about God's retribution against the evil people who were responsible for his imprisonment. The largest portion of the novel deals with his unique methods of effecting this revenge against his enemies, who became, during Dantès' fourteen years of imprisonment, very powerful and very wealthy people.

Luigi Vampa Chief of a large gang of bandits, whose headquarters are in the ancient catacombs outside of Rome. Some years earlier, Monte Cristo met Vampa when the bandit was still a young shepherd, and they exchanged gifts which should have made them lifelong friends, but apparently Vampa forgot because he later tried to capture the Count only to be captured by the Count. The Count could have turned Vampa over to "Roman justice," which would have quickly snuffed out his life, but instead, the two men parted friends, with the condition that Vampa and his band would always respect the Count and all of the Count's friends — this is how the Count was able to so easily rescue Albert de Morcerf. Of course, there is always the suspicion (or knowledge) that the Count "arranged" the kidnapping in the first place, so as to make Albert indebted to him, because it is through Albert's obligations that the Count will be introduced to all of his enemies in Paris, including Albert's father, who betrayed Edmond Dantès many years ago. Vampa also serves the Count by kidnapping Monsieur Danglars at the end of the novel and holding him prisoner until the Baron is forced to spend all of the five million francs that he embezzled from charity hospitals. Again, every indication points to the Count of Monte Cristo's arranging the kidnapping, thus effecting his final revenge against Danglars.
Signor Pastrini The owner of the Hotel de Londres in Rome who arranges for the meeting between the Count of Monte Cristo and Albert de Morcerf, a meeting which the Count anticipates so that his introduction to his enemies can be effected.

Peppino An agent of Luigi Vampa, he is deeply indebted to the Count of Monte Cristo for saving his life. Peppino was sentenced to death, and the Count used his wealth (he gave one of the three enormous emeralds from his treasures to the Pope, who installed it in his tiara) and his influence to buy a pardon for Peppino, just minutes before Peppino was to be executed.

ALI, the Count's mute Nubian valet He serves virtually no function in the novel except to lasso Madame de Villefort's runaway horses, thus obligating the Villeforts to the Count.

Jacopo Dantès first meets Jacopo when he escapes from the Chateau d'If. Swimming toward a ship which he hopes will rescue him, he is approaching the vessel when his strength gives out. He is pulled out of the water by Jacopo, who then lends him a pair of pants and a shirt. Thus, Monte Cristo is indebted to Jacopo for saving his life and is symbolically aligned with him by sharing Jacopo's clothes.
Later, when Monte Cristo pretends to be wounded on the island of Monte Cristo, Jacopo proves his devotion and loyalty to the Count by volunteering to give up his share of the smuggling bounty in order to look after his friend. Thus, Monte Cristo now knows that he has found a loyal and devoted friend whom he can fully trust to help him once he has recovered the treasure of the Spada family. Later, Jacopo is fully rewarded for his loyalty to the Count by being made, among other things, the captain of Monte Cristo's private yacht.

Gaspard Caderousse He is one of the original conspirators who falsified facts in a letter and thereby framed Edmond Dantès. He never came to Dantès' aid when he was imprisoned, and later, the Count of Monte Cristo comes to him disguised as the Abbé Busoni and learns about the entire nature of Caderousse's conspiracy against Dantès, as well as Caderousse's rampant duplicity. Busoni rewards Caderousse for his narration, hoping that Caderousse will become an honest man. However, Caderousse's greed is too strong, and he continues to rob and murder until one evening, while attempting to rob the Count's house, he is killed by an accomplice, just as the Count reveals that he is Edmond Dantès.

Monsieur De Villefort Villefort is described early in the novel as the type of person who "would sacrifice anything to his ambition, even his own father." And throughout the novel, whenever political expediency demands it, he denies his own father, who was a Bonapartist and therefore opposed to the ruling royalty. When it is discovered that Edmond Dantès has a letter from the island of Elba, where Napoleon is confined, to be delivered to Villefort's father (Monsieur Noirtier), Villefort, in order to protect his own interest, has Dantès imprisoned in the impregnable fortress of the Chateau d'If, from which there is no escape. (Villefort is the prosecuting attorney, with great powers of life and death.) In addition, Villefort closes his ears to the entreaties of the elder Dantès, as well as to Monsieur Morrel, who tries on several occasions to plead for Dantès' release. Because of his political ambitions, Villefort is willing to have an innocent man imprisoned for life. Thus, he becomes the central enemy against whom the Count of Monte Cristo effects revenge. During Dantès' fourteen years of imprisonment, Villefort uses all sorts of conniving means to achieve the powerful post of Deputy Minister of France; he becomes the most powerful law enforcement man in the nation. He has also made a politically advantageous marriage to the daughter of the Marquis and Marquise de Saint-Méran and has one daughter, Valentine, by that marriage. He later takes a second wife and has one son, Edouard, by her. He also has had an affair with a woman who becomes the Baroness Danglars, and Villefort uses his wife's family mansion (Monte Cristo later purchases this mansion) to conceal his mistress (the woman who will become Madame Danglars) while she is pregnant. When the child is born, Villefort announces that the child is stillborn and takes the child in a box to the garden, where he plans to bury him alive. However, an assassin who has a vendetta for Villefort stabs him and, thinking that the box contains treasure, he takes it, only to find that it contains an infant who is ultimately raised by him and his sister-in-law. The boy is named Benedetto, and he will later be brought back to Paris by Monte Cristo as Prince Cavalcanti and will accuse his own father, Villefort, of all of his dastardly deeds. This is part of Monte Cristo's revenge: A son whom the father tried to kill as an infant becomes the instrument of Divine Justice and accuses and destroys the evil father.

Renée, the first Madame de Villefort, née Mademoiselle Saint-Méran The mother of Valentine. Her marriage to Villefort was "politically" arranged, and she does not appear in the novel.
Valentine De Villefort Valentine is the daughter of the first Madame de Villefort and is, therefore, the granddaughter of the Marquis and Marquise de Saint-Méran, whose fortune she is due to inherit. This fortune causes extreme envy in her stepmother. Valentine, like her brother, Edouard, and Albert de Morcerf and Eugénie Danglars represent the innocent persons who are trapped by the evil machinations of one or both parents.

Valentine's mother, as far as we know, was an innocent person, and Valentine herself represents the absolute purity of young womanhood who will attract the pure love of the noble Maximilien Morrel. She unknowingly also attracts the enmity of her wicked stepmother, who tries to poison her. Since it is the Count of Monte Cristo who recognizes the stepmother's envy and greed and because he instructs her in the use of poison, the Count undergoes his greatest change as a result of his exposure to some of the children of his enemies. Prior to the realization that his beloved friend, Maximilien, loves Valentine, The Count had begun his revenge with the biblical philosophy that the sins of the father will be visited upon the later generations, even unto the fourth generation. Therefore, he is not concerned that Valentine's stepmother might poison her; this would be proper punishment for the wicked father. It is only when Maximilien Morrel reveals that Valentine is his true love that the Count undergoes a significant change of heart, and because of the Count's love for Maximilien, he sets a plot in motion that will save the life of the daughter of his most hated enemy. To do so, however, he must ask her to undergo such tremendous terrors as being entombed alive, until she is reborn into happiness with Maximilien at the end of the novel.

Héloise, the second Madame de Villefort Early in the novel, in Paris, the Count of Monte Cristo became acquainted with Madame de Villefort, and in an intimate conversation, he discussed with her his extensive knowledge of poisons, particularly a poison known as "brucine" which, taken in small doses, can cure a person but which, taken in larger doses, will kill one. Since Madame de Villefort has a child named Edouard, she becomes insanely jealous of the large fortune which her stepdaughter, Valentine, will inherit from the Marquis and Marquise de Saint-Méran. Likewise, Valentine is to inherit most of Monsieur Noirtier's fortune, making her one of the wealthiest heiresses in France. In Madame de Villefort's desire to possess the wealth that Valentine is to inherit, she poisons both the Marquis and the Marquise (and during the process, one of the servants, Barrois), and then she believes that she has also successfully poisoned Valentine. Later, when her husband accuses her of the poisonings and demands that she commit suicide or else face public execution, she poisons both herself and their nine-year-old son, leaving Villefort totally distraught. Thus, the Count's revenge is complete against the cruel and inhuman Monsieur de Villefort.

Edouard De Villefort The young nine-year-old son of the second Madame de Villefort and her husband. He is merely an innocent pawn caught in a vicious power struggle. The death of this innocent young boy causes the Count of Monte Cristo to re-evaluate his belief in the rightness of the "sins of the father being visited upon the son." The Count feels deep remorse over the death of the young boy, and he tries to save his life, but on failing to do so, he places the innocent, dead boy beside the body of his dead mother.
Monsieur Noirtier Villefort's very strong-willed father, who is the source of great embarrassment to Villefort and a threat to his ambitions. Monsieur Noirtier was one of France's leading Bonapartists (supporters of Napoleon), and his political views, his power in the Bonapartist party, and his influence make him a thorn in the side of his son, an opportunist who is willing to support whichever political party is in power. It is because of a letter carried by Edmond Dantès and addressed to Monsieur Noirtier and sent from someone on the Isle of Elba (probably Napoleon himself), that Villefort is persuaded to imprison Edmond Dantès so that no royalists (supporters of the king) will ever know that Villefort's father is so intimately associated with Napoleon. Later in the novel, when Monsieur Noirtier is paralyzed, he is able to communicate only with his servant, Barrois, and with his beloved granddaughter, Valentine, whom he tries to warn about the intricate plots surrounding her because of her pending inheritance.

Monsieur Danglars, later Baron Danglars When we first meet this envious and devious man, we are immediately aware that he has a jealous hatred for Edmond Dantès simply because Dantès is younger, more capable, more assured, and self-confident and because he is a thoroughly good-natured young man of nineteen, with complete openness, honesty, and frankness. Danglars is the one who conceives of the conspiracy against Dantès, and he is the one responsible for writing the treacherous, anonymous note which sends Dantès to prison for fourteen years.

The note and the handwriting are permanently engraved in Dantès' eyes, and years later he is able to confirm Danglars' evil duplicity by another sample of his handwriting, in addition to the somewhat reliable testimony which Caderousse tells to the Abbé Busoni, an alias for the Count of Monte Cristo. By various illegal means, Danglars first ingratiates himself into the family of a prominent banker, later marries the banker's widow, and by using illegal banking methods, he quickly becomes an extremely wealthy man. The Count of Monte Cristo, however, is even more clever, and he gradually involves himself in Danglars' finances to the point that Danglars eventually goes bankrupt. But he does manage to confiscate five million francs in bank notes, and he flees to Italy, hoping to have them cashed. He is captured by the bandit chief Luigi Vampa, an old friend of the Count of Monte Cristo, and then he is gradually stripped of all his five million francs. He is finally freed by the bandits, but he is now an old and broken man, and, worst of all, he is penniless. The Count's vengeance has at last been effected.

Baroness Danglars She is the wife of Danglars, but they have lived separate lives for over seven years, and both have their own separate lovers. At present, her lover is Lucien Debray, an officer in Baron Danglars' banking establishment, who is collaborating with her to manipulate stocks and bonds so that they can accumulate large sums of money. When their scheme is over, because Danglars is on the verge of bankruptcy, young Lucien divides the money and then drops Madame Danglars as his mistress. Madame Danglars also figures prominently in another aspect of the plot. Earlier, she had an affair with Monsieur Villefort, the Count's archenemy, and she retired to Villefort's wife's family estate to have their child in secrecy. The estate is later purchased by the Count of Monte Cristo, and her son, whom she thought to be dead, is paid by the Count of Monte Cristo to pretend to be the wealthy Prince Cavalcanti. As such, her illegitimate son becomes engaged to her own legitimate daughter, Eugénie.

Eugénie Danglars The daughter who is first engaged to Albert de Morcerf and then, in another arranged marriage, to the bogus Prince Cavalcanti, alias the criminal Benedetto, who is actually her mother's illegitimate son. She abhors the idea of marriage and bondage and wants to live as a liberated woman in charge of her own destiny. When her fiancé is exposed as a fraud and a murderer, she and a girl friend escape; they hope to reach Rome by a circuitous route. Her disappearance is one of the final blows to the pride of her villainous father.

Fernand Mondego, alias the Count de Morcerf In his youth, Fernand was a simple fisherman and a sometime smuggler who was in love with the woman whom Edmond Dantès was engaged to, Mercédès Herrera. Because Mercédès loved Fernand as a brother, Edmond Dantds trusted him. However, it is Fernand who actually mailed the letter condemning Dantès, hoping all the while that if Dantès was arrested, he would then be able to marry Mercédès. By evil means, he was able to use his smuggling skills and his treachery in warfare to eventually be made a Count and awarded an immense sum of money. Sometime during his rise to power, he married Mercédès, who had waited a long time for Dantès, but finally abandoned hope. Fernand gained most of his wealth by betraying a high authority named Ali Pasha, whose daughter he sold into slavery, and who is now the paramour of the Count of Monte Cristo. When all of his treachery is exposed and he discovers that his wife and son have deserted him, Fernand shoots himself.
Mercédès Herrera, later the Countess de Morcerf She is the innocent victim of many of the above machinations. She loved only Edmond Dantès, and when he seemingly disappeared forever, she attempted to care for his father. When the elderly Dantès died, she had no place to go, and so she succumbed to pressure and married Fernand. As the Countess de Morcerf, she became an educated and distinguished but unhappy woman. She is the only person who knows that the Count of Monte Cristo is really Edmond Dantès. When she discovers the full extent of her husband's treachery, she leaves his house without any of his wealth (giving all her money to charity hospitals), and she returns to the small house which once belonged to Edmond Dantès' father, there to live out her life in deep prayer.

Albert De Morcerf When the young Viscount Albert was visiting Rome, he happened to be staying in the same hotel where the Count of Monte Cristo was staying. They became close acquaintances, and when Albert was kidnapped by a gang of bandits, whose chief was Luigi Vampa, a man deeply indebted to the Count of Monte Cristo, the Count was able to rescue Albert before the bandits put him to death. Thus, young Albert was indebted to Monte Cristo forever for saving his life. Because of Albert's obligation to him, the Count was later able to be introduced to all of his enemies in Paris, including Albert's father, Count de Morcerf (alias Fernand), who betrayed Dantès many years ago. Albert, however, apparently inherited all of his mother's goodness and none of his father's treachery. Eventually, Albert wins the love and respect of the Count of Monte Cristo, and even though the Count is on the verge of killing Albert in a duel after he is challenged and insulted by Albert, the Count's willingness to recognize Albert's goodness is another example of "an exception" to his belief in the "sons of the father rightly inheriting their father's guilt."

Benedetto, alias Andrea Cavalcanti Being the illegitimate son of the immoral Madame Danglars and the corrupt, ambitious, and despicable Villefort, Benedetto represents almost pure evil. It is only by luck that he was not buried alive as an infant, but as his father, Villefort, was about to bury him, Bertuccio saw the box that Benedetto was in and mistakenly believed it to be filled with treasure. Bertuccio hoped to revenge himself on Villefort, and so he stabbed him and took the baby to his sister-in-law. Benedetto lived with her and made her life miserable. Then one day, he tied her up, beat her, and stole all of her money. Later, he was caught and found himself in prison, with Caderousse as a cellmate. By the time of the story, Monte Cristo has tracked him down and has paid him to disguise himself as a wealthy Italian nobleman so that he can use Benedetto in his larger, ultimate plan for total revenge against the traitorous Baron Danglars (by having him become engaged to Eugénie Danglars) and by exposing Villefort as the would-be murderer of his own infant son.

The Marquis And The Marquise De Saint-Mèran The first in-laws of Villefort, whose granddaughter, Valentine, will be the sole inheritor of their fortune, thus arousing the envy of the second Madame de Villefort, who poisons both the Marquis and the Marquise so that Valentine can inherit their fortune immediately and she can then poison Valentine, insuring that Edouard, Valentine's half-brother, will come into an immense fortune.

Monsieur De Boville He is the Director of Prisons, from whom Dantès buys financial notes which are invested in Monsieur Morrel's shipping firm. Dantès is also able to secretly extract Villefort's note condemning him to what Villefort believed would be a life of isolated imprisonment. Boville is also involved in devastating financial transactions with Danglars.

Doctor D'avrigny The attending physician to the Villeforts, who is convinced that the Marquis and the Marquise de Saint-Méran were poisoned. After the death of Barrois, whom the doctor is certain was the victim of the same poison, he threatens Villefort with a police investigation, but is persuaded to keep the matter quiet. With Valentine's "seeming" death, d'Avrigny joins Maximilien in demanding punishment for the "supposed" murderer.

Lucien Debray A young man in Monsieur Danglars' office who is having an affair with Madame Danglars; Debray and Madame Danglars are using certain information to destroy Danglars' fortune while increasing their own fortune tremendously.

Franz D'epinay One of the many men about town; he is a friend of Albert de Morcerf. Franz accompanies Albert to Rome, where he acts as an emissary between the bandits and Monte Cristo after Albert is captured by the bandit.

Conflict:

• Love Versus Alienation

Dantès declares himself an exile from humanity during the years in which he carries out his elaborate scheme of revenge. He feels cut off not only from all countries, societies, and individuals but also from normal human emotions. Dantès is unable to experience joy, sorrow, or excitement; in fact, the only emotions he is capable of feeling are vengeful hatred and occasional gratitude. It is plausible that Dantès’s extreme social isolation and narrow range of feeling are simply the result of his obsession with his role as the agent of Providence. It is not difficult to imagine that a decade-long devotion to a project like Dantès’s might take a dramatic toll on one’s psychology. 

Yet Dantès’s alienation from humanity is not solely due to his obsessive lust for revenge but also to his lack of love for any living person. Though he learns of his enemies’ treachery years before he escapes from prison, his alienation from humanity begins to take hold only when Abbé Faria dies. Until Faria’s death, Dantès’s love for Faria keeps him connected to his own humanity, by keeping the humanizing emotion of love alive within him. When Dantès learns that his father is dead and that Mercédès has married another man, his alienation is complete. There are no longer any living people whom he loves, and he loses hold of any humanizing force. 

This humanizing force eventually returns when Dantès falls in love with Haydée. This relationship reconciles Dantès to his humanity and enables him to feel real emotion once again. In a triumphant declaration of emotion, he says to Haydée, “through you I again connect myself with life, through you I shall suffer, through you rejoice.” Dantès’s overcomes his alienation, both from society and from his own humanity, through his love of another human being.

Climax 

Dantès slowly brings complete devastation upon Caderousse, Fernand, Villefort, and Danglars.

Denouement:

After his intervention in the de Villefort poisoning case leads Héloïse de Villefort to kill both herself and her son Edward, the Count realizes that maybe he's taken things a little too far. His attempts to save Edward fail, and he's thrown into a crisis of conscience. He subsequently allows Danglars to escape from Luigi Vampa with his life, though not before taking every last penny.
The de Villefort incident disturbs the Count's plan and signals a great, if late, shift in the narrative, casting Monte Cristo's whole plan into a new and disturbing light.

Ending:

If you've read the "What's Up With the Title?" section, you already know that there's some serious Christian symbolism going on in The Count of Monte Cristo. (If you haven't read that section, now might be the time.) Nowhere is that more apparent than at the book's end. For one thing, the Count literally brings someone back from the dead – at least as far as Maximilian is concerned. Also, as you might recall – especially if you've just found out what's up with the title – you know that this happens at a place called Mount Christ. Oh, and the guy who did the resurrecting has taken on the name of the place that's named after Jesus.

So, we've got this sort of literal resurrection thing, and a direct reference to Jesus Christ. "But is Valentine really the only person/thing that's being resurrected?", you ask. No way, we answer. The ending is about a broader kind of redemption and rebirth. Remember, the Count has just had a crisis of conscience (he's like, "oh man, was all that revenge stuff worth it?"). He's made some amends, but he has something special cooked up for Maximilian, a kind of positive lesson, a lesson which he puts neatly into a couple of sentences:

As for you, Morrel, this is the whole secret of my behaviour towards you: there is neither happiness nor misfortune in this world, there is merely the comparison between one state and another, nothing more. Only someone who has suffered the deepest misfortune is capable of experiencing the heights of felicity. Maximilian, you must needs have wished to die, to know how good it is to live. (117.149)

This is the ultimate lesson taken away from Monte Cristo's years of pain and suffering. It basically boils down to "No pain, no gain" or, to be needlessly wordy, "No suffering, no cherishment of life." And who should know better than the Count? It must be said, too, that it's a deeply Christian sentiment. In the Good Book, Jesus must suffer in order to redeem mankind, which is to say, only by his suffering can they come to enjoy the afterlife. If all this weren't enough, well, it helps to look at MC's parting words to Maximilian and Valentine. "So, do live and be happy, children dear to my heart," he tells them, "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). He's telling them to wait patiently until Judgment Day. Monte Cristo himself already had his own sort of miniature version of it, but, as we know, it didn't go quite right. Now, just before he sails off into the sunset, he tells them to wait for the real deal.

That said, they hope, and we hope, that Monte Cristo will be back too, and long before Judgment Day. After all, everybody loves a good sequel.

The people who betrayed the count ended up by paying with their lives as he cleverly took his revenge on each one. Plus, the fact that the count actually really did find treasure and good friends (in the form of pirates) meant that he was a good person who attracted good people. Regardless of the fact that the pirates could have treated him badly and even shot him when he found the treasure, they didn't, they became his friends and they benefitted from his success.  

The main moral is that the bad deeds we do in life do not go unpunished and the good ones get rewarded. 

I. Vocabulary build up

• Rigged - fitted or equipped with necessary rigging (sails and shrouds and stays etc) 
• Laden - filled with a great quantity.
• Strait -  a narrow channel of the sea joining two larger bodies of water.
• Sedately - in a sedate manner
• Vague - lacking clarity or distinctness. 
• Disquietude - feelings of anxiety that make you tense and irritable.   

K. Personal Comment:

The Count of Monte Cristo is an adventure novel.

SHYLOCK, the Jew, lived at Venice: he was an usurer, who had amassed an immense fortune by lending money at great interest to Christian merchants. Shylock, being a hard-hearted man, exacted the payment of the money he lent with such severity that he was much disliked by all good men, and particularly by Antonio, a young merchant of Venice; and Shylock as much hated Antonio, because he used to lend money to people in distress, and would never take any interest for the money he lent; therefore there was great enmity between this covetous Jew and the generous merchant Antonio. Whenever Antonio met Shylock on the Rialto (or Exchange), he used to reproach him with his usuries and hard dealings, which the Jew would bear with seeming patience, while he secretly meditated revenge.

Antonio was the kindest man that lived, the best conditioned, and had the most unwearied spirit in doing courtesies; indeed, he was one in whom the ancient Roman honour more appeared than in any that drew breath in Italy. He was greatly beloved by all his fellow-citizens; but the friend who was nearest and dearest to his heart was Bassanio, a noble Venetian, who, having but a small patrimony, had nearly exhausted his little fortune by living in too expensive a manner for his slender means, as young men of high rank with small fortunes are too apt to do. Whenever Bassanio wanted money, Antonio assisted him; and it seemed as if they had but one heart and one purse between them.

One day Bassanio came to Antonio, and told him that he wished to repair his fortune by a wealthy marriage with a lady whom he dearly loved, whose father, that was lately dead, had left her sole heiress to a large estate; and that in her father's lifetime he used to visit at her house, when he thought he had observed this lady had sometimes from her eyes sent speechless messages, that seemed to say he would be no unwelcome suitor; but not having money to furnish himself with an appearance befitting the lover of so rich an heiress, he besought Antonio to add to the many favours he had shown him, by lending him three thousand ducats.
Antonio had no money by him at that time to lend his friend; but expecting soon to have some ships come home laden with merchandise, he said he would go to Shylock, the rich money-lender, and borrow the money upon the credit of those ships.

Antonio and Bassanio went together to Shylock, and Antonio asked the Jew to lend him three thousand ducats upon any interest he should require, to be paid out of the merchandise contained in his ships at sea. On this, Shylock thought within himself: "If I can once catch him on the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him; he hates our Jewish nation; he lends out money gratis, and among merchants he rails at me and my well-earned bargains, which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe if I forgive him!" Antonio finding he was musing within himself and did not answer, and being impatient for the money, said: "Shylock, do you hear? will you lend the money?" To this question the Jew replied: "Signior Antonio, on the Rialto many a time and often you have railed at me about my monies and my usuries, and I have borne it with a patient shrug, for sufferance is the badge of all our tribe; and then you have called me unbeliever, cut-throat dog, and spit upon my Jewish garments, and spurned at me with your foot, as if I was a cur. Well then, it now appears you need my help; and you come to me, and say, Shylock, lend me monies. Has a dog money? Is it possible a cur should lend three thousand ducats? Shall I bend low and say, Fair sir, you spit upon me on Wednesday last, another time you called me dog, and for these courtesies I am to lend you monies." Antonio replied: "I am as like to call you so again, to spit on you again, and spurn you too. If you will lend me this money, lend it not to me as to a friend, but rather lend it to me as to an enemy, that, if I break, you may with better face exact the penalty." "Why, look you," said Shylock, "how you storm! I would be friends with you, and have your love. I will forget the shames you have put upon me. I will supply your wants, and take no interest for my money." This seemingly kind offer greatly surprised Antonio; and then Shylock, still pretending kindness, and that all he did was to gain Antonio's love, again said he would lend him the three thousand ducats, and take no interest for his money; only Antonio should go with him to a lawyer, and there sign in merry sport a bond, that if he did not repay the money by a certain day, he would forfeit a pound of flesh, to be cut off from any part of his body that Shylock pleased.

"Content," said Antonio: "I will sign to this bond, and say there is much kindness in the Jew."
Bassanio said Antonio should not sign to such a bond for him; but still Antonio insisted that he would sign it, for that before the day of payment came, his ships would return laden with many times the value of the money.

Shylock, hearing this debate, exclaimed: "O, father Abraham, what suspicious people these Christians are! Their own hard dealings teach them to suspect the thoughts of others. I pray you tell me this, Bassanio: if he should break this day, what should I gain by the exaction of the forfeiture? A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, is not so estimable, nor profitable neither, as the flesh of mutton or beef. I say, to buy his favour I offer this friendship: if he will take it, so; if not, adieu."

At last, against the advice of Bassanio, who, notwithstanding all the Jew had said of his kind intentions, did not like his friend should run the hazard of this shocking penalty for his sake, Antonio signed the bond, thinking it really was (as the Jew said) merely in sport.

The rich heiress that Bassanio wished to marry lived near Venice, at a place called Belmont: her name was Portia, and in the graces of her person and her mind she was nothing inferior to that Portia, of whom we read, who was Cato's daughter, and the wife of Brutus.

Bassanio being so kindly supplied with money by his friend Antonio, at the hazard of his life, set out for Belmont with a splendid train, and attended by a gentleman of the name of Gratiano.

Bassanio proving successful in his suit, Portia in a short time consented to accept of him for a husband.
Bassanio confessed to Portia that he had no fortune, and that his high birth and noble ancestry was all that he could boast of; she, who loved him for his worthy qualities, and had riches enough not to regard wealth in a husband, answered with a graceful modesty, that she would wish herself a thousand times more fair, and ten thousand times more rich, to be more worthy of him; and then the accomplished Portia prettily dispraised herself, and said she was an unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractised, yet not so old but that she could learn, and that she would commit her gentle spirit to be directed and governed by him in all things; and she said: "Myself and what is mine, to you and yours is now converted. But yesterday, Bassanio, I was the lady of this fair mansion, queen of myself, and mistress over these servants; and now this house, these servants, and myself, are yours, my lord; I give them with this ring"; presenting a ring to Bassanio.

Bassanio was so overpowered with gratitude and wonder at the gracious manner in which the rich and noble Portia accepted of a man of his humble fortunes, that he could not express his joy and reverence to the dear lady who so honoured him, by anything but broken words of love and thankfulness; and taking the ring, he vowed never to part with it.

Gratiano and Nerissa, Portia's waiting-maid, were in attendance upon their lord and lady, when Portia so gracefully promised to become the obedient wife of Bassanio; and Gratiano, wishing Bassanio and the generous lady joy, desired permission to be married at the same time.
"With all my heart, Gratiano," said Bassanio, "if you can get a wife."

Gratiano then said that he loved the lady Portia's fair waiting gentlewoman Nerissa, and that she had promised to be his wife, if her lady married Bassanio. Portia asked Nerissa if this was true. Nerissa replied: "Madam, it is so, if you approve of it." Portia willingly consenting, Bassanio pleasantly said: "Then our wedding-feast shall be much honoured by your marriage, Gratiano."

The happiness of these lovers was sadly crossed at this moment by the entrance of a messenger, who brought a letter from Antonio containing fearful tidings. When Bassanio read Antonio's letter, Portia feared it was to tell him of the death of some dear friend, he looked so pale; and inquiring what was the news which had so distressed him, he said: "O sweet Portia, here are a few of the unpleasantest words that ever blotted paper; gentle lady, when I first imparted my love to you, I freely told you all the wealth I had ran in my veins; but I should have told you that I had less than nothing, being in debt." Bassanio then told Portia what has been here related, of his borrowing the money of Antonio, and of Antonio's procuring it of Shylock the Jew, and of the bond by which Antonio had engaged to forfeit a pound of flesh, if it was not repaid by a certain day: and then Bassanio read Antonio's letter: the words of which were: "Sweet Bassanio, my ships are all lost, my bond to the Jew is forfeited, and since in paying it is impossible I should live, I could wish to see you at my death; notwithstanding use your pleasure; if your love for me do not persuade you to come, let not my letter." "O, my dear love," said Portia, "despatch all business, and begone; you shall have gold to pay the money twenty times over, before this kind friend shall lose a hair by my Bassanio's fault; and as you are so dearly bought, I will dearly love you." Portia then said she would be married to Bassanio before he set out, to give him a legal right to her money; and that same day they were married, and Gratiano was also married to Nerissa; and Bassanio and Gratiano, the instant they were married, set out in great haste for Venice, where Bassanio found Antonio in prison.

The day of payment being past, the cruel Jew would not accept of the money which Bassanio offered him, but insisted upon having a pound of Antonio's flesh. A day was appointed to try this shocking cause before the duke of Venice, and Bassanio awaited in dreadful suspense the event of the trial.

When Portia parted with her husband, she spoke cheeringly to him, and bade him bring his dear friend along with him when he returned; yet she feared it would go hard with Antonio, and when she was left alone, she began to think and consider within herself, if she could by any means be instrumental in saving the life of her dear Bassanio's friend; and notwithstanding when she wished to honour her Bassanio, she had said to him with such a meek and wifelike grace, that she would submit in all things to be governed by his superior wisdom, yet being now called forth into action by the peril of her honoured husband's friend, she did nothing doubt her own powers, and by the sole guidance of her own true and perfect judgment, at once resolved to go herself to Venice, and speak in Antonio's defence.

Portia had a relation who was a counsellor in the law; to this gentleman, whose name was Bellario, she wrote, and stating the case to him, desired his opinion, and that with his advice he would also send her the dress worn by a counsellor. When the messenger returned, he brought letters from Bellario of advice how to proceed, and also everything necessary for her equipment.

Portia dressed herself and her maid Nerissa in men's apparel, and putting on the robes of a counsellor, she took Nerissa along with her as her clerk; and setting out immediately, they arrived at Venice on the very day of the trial. The cause was just going to be heard before the duke and senators of Venice in the senate-house, when Portia entered this high court of justice, and presented a letter from Bellario, in which that learned counsellor wrote to the duke, saying, he would have come himself to plead for Antonio, but that he was prevented by sickness, and he requested that the learned young doctor Balthasar (so he called Portia) might be permitted to plead in his stead. This the duke granted, much wondering at the youthful appearance of the stranger, who was prettily disguised by her counsellor's robes and her large wig.

And now began this important trial. Portia looked around her, and she knew the merciless Jew; and she saw Bassanio, but he knew her not in her disguise. He was standing beside Antonio, in an agony of distress and fear for his friend.

The importance of the arduous task Portia had engaged in gave this tender lady courage, and she boldly proceeded in the duty she had undertaken to perform: and first of all she addressed herself to Shylock; and allowing that he had a right by the Venetian law to have the forfeit expressed in the bond, she spoke so sweetly of the noble quality of mercy, as would have softened any heart but the unfeeling Shylock's; saying, that it dropped as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath; and how mercy was a double blessing, it blessed him that gave, and him that received it, and how it became monarchs better than their crowns, being an attribute of God Himself; and that earthly power came nearest to God's, in proportion as mercy tempered justice; and she bid Shylock remember that as we all pray for mercy, that same prayer should teach us to show mercy. Shylock only answered her by desiring to have the penalty forfeited in the bond. "Is he not able to pay the money?" asked Portia. Bassanio then offered the Jew the payment of the three thousand ducats as many times over as he should desire; which Shylock refusing, and still insisting upon having a pound of Antonio's flesh, Bassanio begged the learned young counsellor would endeavour to wrest the law a little, to save Antonio's life. But Portia gravely answered, that laws once established must never be altered. Shylock hearing Portia say that the law might not be altered, it seemed to him that she was pleading in his favour, and he said: "A Daniel is come to judgment! O wise young judge, how I do honour you! How much elder are you than your looks!"

Portia now desired Shylock to let her look at the bond; and when she had read it, she said: "This bond is forfeited, and by this the Jew may lawfully claim a pound of flesh, to be by him cut off nearest Antonio's heart." Then she said to Shylock: "Be merciful: take the money, and bid me tear the bond." But no mercy would the cruel Shylock show; and he said: "By my soul I swear, there is no power in the tongue of men to alter me." "Why then, Antonio," said Portia, "you must prepare your bosom for the knife": and while Shylock was sharpening a long knife with great eagerness to cut off the pound of flesh, Portia said to Antonio: "Have you anything to say?" Antonio with a calm resignation replied, that he had but little to say, for that he had prepared his mind for death. Then he said to Bassanio: "Give me your hand, Bassanio! Fare you well! Grieve not that I am fallen into this misfortune for you. Commend me to your honourable wife, and tell her how I have loved you!" Bassanio in the deepest affliction replied: "Antonio, I am married to a wife, who is as dear to me as life itself; but life itself, my wife, and all the world, are not esteemed with me above your life; I would lose all, I would sacrifice all to this devil here, to deliver you."

Portia hearing this, though the kind-hearted lady was not at all offended with her husband for expressing the love he owed to so true a friend as Antonio in these strong terms, yet could not help answering: "Your wife would give you little thanks, if she were present, to hear you make this offer." And then Gratiano, who loved to copy what his lord did, thought he must make a speech like Bassanio's, and he said, in Nerissa's hearing, who was writing in her clerk's dress by the side of Portia: "I have a wife, whom I protest I love; I wish she were in heaven, if she could but entreat some power there to change the cruel temper of this currish Jew." "It is well you wish this behind her back, else you would have but an unquiet house," said Nerissa.
Shylock now cried out impatiently: "We trifle time; I pray pronounce the sentence." And now all was awful expectation in the court, and every heart was full of grief for Antonio.

Portia asked if the scales were ready to weigh the flesh; and she said to the Jew: "Shylock, you must have some surgeon by, lest he bleed to death." Shylock, whose whole intent was that Antonio should bleed to death, said: "It is not so named in the bond." Portia replied: "It is not so named in the bond, but what of that? It were good you did so much for charity." To this all the answer Shylock would make was: "I cannot find it; it is not in the bond." "Then," said Portia, "a pound of Antonio's flesh is thine. The law allows it, and the court awards it. And you may cut this flesh from off his breast. The law allows it and the court awards it." Again Shylock exclaimed: "O wise and upright judge! A Daniel is come to judgment!" And then he sharpened his long knife again, and looking eagerly on Antonio, he said: "Come, prepare!"

"Tarry a little, Jew," said Portia; "there is something else. This bond here gives you no drop of blood; the words expressly are 'a pound of flesh.' If in the cutting off the pound of flesh you shed one drop of Christian blood, your lands and goods are by the law to be confiscated to the state of Venice." Now as it was utterly impossible for Shylock to cut off the pound of flesh without shedding some of Antonio's blood, this wise discovery of Portia's, that it was flesh and not blood that was named in the bond, saved the life of Antonio; and all admiring the wonderful sagacity of the young counsellor, who had so happily thought of this expedient, plaudits resounded from every part of the senate-house; and Gratiano exclaimed, in the words which Shylock had used: "O wise and upright judge! mark, Jew, a Daniel is come to judgment!"
Shylock, finding himself defeated in his cruel intent, said with a disappointed look, that he would take the money; and Bassanio, rejoiced beyond measure at Antonio's unexpected deliverance, cried out: "Here is the money!" But Portia stopped him, saying: "Softly; there is no haste; the Jew shall have nothing but the penalty: therefore prepare, Shylock, to cut off the flesh; but mind you shed no blood: nor do not cut off more nor less than just a pound; be it more or less by one poor scruple, nay if the scale turn but by the weight of a single hair, you are condemned by the laws of Venice to die, and all your wealth is forfeited to the senate." "Give me my money, and let me go," said Shylock. "I have it ready," said Bassanio: "here it is."

Shylock was going to take the money, when Portia again stopped him, saying: "Tarry, Jew; I have yet another hold upon you. By the laws of Venice, your wealth is forfeited to the state, for having conspired against the life of one of its citizens, and your life lies at the mercy of the duke; therefore, down on your knees, and ask him to pardon you."

The duke then said to Shylock: "That you may see the difference of our Christian spirit, I pardon you your life before you ask it; half your wealth belongs to Antonio, the other half comes to the state."

The generous Antonio then said that he would give up his share of Shylock's wealth, if Shylock would sign a deed to make it over at his death to his daughter and her husband; for Antonio knew that the Jew had an only daughter who had lately married against his consent to a young Christian, named Lorenzo, a friend of Antonio's, which had so offended Shylock, that he had disinherited her.

The Jew agreed to this: and being thus disappointed in his revenge, and despoiled of his riches, he said: "I am ill. Let me go home; send the deed after me, and I will sign over half my riches to my daughter." "Get thee gone, then," said the Duke, "and sign it; and if you repent your cruelty and turn Christian, the state will forgive you the fine of the other half of your riches."

The duke now released Antonio, and dismissed the court. He then highly praised the wisdom and ingenuity of the young counsellor, and invited him home to dinner. Portia, who meant to return to Belmont before her husband, replied: "I humbly thank your grace, but I must away directly." The duke said he was sorry he had not leisure to stay and dine with him; and turning to Antonio, he added: "Reward this gentleman; for in my mind you are much indebted to him."

The duke and his senators left the court; and then Bassanio said to Portia: "Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Antonio have by your wisdom been this day acquitted of grievous penalties, and I beg you will accept of the three thousand ducats due unto the Jew." "And we shall stand indebted to you over and above," said Antonio, "in love and service evermore."

Portia could not be prevailed upon to accept the money; but upon Bassanio still pressing her to accept of some reward, she said: "Give me your gloves; I will wear them for your sake;" and then Bassanio taking off his gloves, she espied the ring which she had given him upon his finger: now it was the ring the wily lady wanted to get from him to make a merry jest when she saw her Bassanio again, that made her ask him for his gloves; and she said, when she saw the ring, "and for your love I will take this ring from you." Bassanio was sadly distressed that the counsellor should ask him for the only thing he could not part with, and he replied in great confusion, that he could not give him that ring, because it was his wife's gift, and he had vowed never to part with it; but that he would give him the most valuable ring in Venice, and find it out by proclamation. On this Portia affected to be affronted, and left the court, saying: "You teach me, sir, how a beggar should be answered."
"Dear Bassanio," said Antonio, "let him have the ring; let my love and the great service he has done for me be valued against your wife's displeasure," Bassanio, ashamed to appear so ungrateful, yielded, and sent Gratiano after Portia with the ring; and then the clerk Nerissa, who had also given Gratiano a ring, she begged his ring, and Gratiano (not choosing to be outdone in generosity by his lord) gave it to her. And there was laughing among these ladies to think, when they got home, how they would tax their husbands with giving away their rings, and swear that they had given them as a present to some woman.

Portia, when she returned, was in that happy temper of mind which never fails to attend the consciousness of having performed a good action; her cheerful spirits enjoyed everything she saw: the moon never seemed to shine so bright before; and when that pleasant moon was hid behind a cloud, then a light which she saw from her house at Belmont as well pleased her charmed fancy, and she said to Nerissa: "That light we see is burning in my hall; how far that little candle throws its beams, so shines a good deed in a naughty world"; and hearing the sound of music from her house, she said: "Methinks that music sounds much sweeter than by day."
And now Portia and Nerissa entered the house, and dressing themselves in their own apparel, they awaited the arrival of their husbands, who soon followed them with Antonio; and Bassanio presenting his dear friend to the lady Portia, the congratulations and welcomings of that lady were hardly over, when they perceived Nerissa and her husband quarrelling in a corner of the room. "A quarrel already?" said Portia. "What is the matter?" Gratiano replied: "Lady, it is about a paltry gilt ring that Nerissa gave me, with words upon it like the poetry on a cutler's knife; Love me, and leave me not."

"What does the poetry or the value of the ring signify?" said Nerissa. "You swore to me when I gave it to you, that you would keep it till the hour of death; and now you say you gave it to the lawyer's clerk. I know you gave it to a woman." "By this hand," replied Gratiano, "I gave it to a youth, a kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, no higher than yourself; he was clerk to the young counsellor that by his wise pleading saved Antonio's life: this prating boy begged it for a fee, and I could not for my life deny him." Portia said: "You were to blame, Gratiano, to part with your wife's first gift. I gave my lord Bassanio a ring, and I am sure he would not part with it for all the world." Gratiano, in excuse for his fault, now said: "My lord Bassanio gave his ring away to the counsellor, and then the boy, his clerk, that took some pains in writing, he begged my ring."

Portia, hearing this, seemed very angry, and reproached Bassanio for giving away her ring; and she said, Nerissa had taught her what to believe, and that she knew some woman had the ring. Bassanio was very unhappy to have so offended his dear lady, and he said with great earnestness: "No, by my honour, no woman had it, but a civil doctor, who refused three thousand ducats of me, and begged the ring, which when I denied him, he went displeased away. What could I do, sweet Portia? I was so beset with shame for my seeming ingratitude, that I was forced to send the ring after him. Pardon me, good lady; had you been there, I think you would have begged the ring of me to give the worthy doctor."
"Ah!" said Antonio, "I am the unhappy cause of these quarrels."

Portia bid Antonio not to grieve at that, for that he was welcome notwithstanding; and then Antonio said: "I once did lend my body for Bassanio's sake; and but for him to whom your husband gave the ring, I should have now been dead. I dare be bound again, my soul upon the forfeit, your lord will never more break his faith with you." "Then you shall be his surety," said Portia; "give him this ring, and bid him keep it better than the other."

When Bassanio looked at this ring, he was strangely surprised to find it was the same he gave away; and then Portia told him how she was the young counsellor, and Nerissa was her clerk; and Bassanio found, to his unspeakable wonder and delight, that it was by the noble courage and wisdom of his wife that Antonio's life was saved.

And Portia again welcomed Antonio, and gave him letters which by some chance had fallen into her hands, which contained an account of Antonio's ships, that were supposed lost, being safely arrived in the harbour. So these tragical beginnings of this rich merchant's story were all forgotten in the unexpected good fortune which ensued; and there was leisure to laugh at the comical adventure of the rings, and the husbands that did not know their own wives: Gratiano merrily swearing, in a sort of rhyming speech, that
——while he lived, he'd fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

William Shakespeare (/ˈʃeɪkspɪər/; 26 April 1564 (baptised) – 23 April 1616)was an English poet, playwright and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon".[3][nb 2] His extant works, including some collaborations, consist of about 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and a few other verses, the authorship of some of which is uncertain. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.

Shakespeare was born and brought up in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18, he married Anne Hathaway, with whom he had three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Between 1585 and 1592, he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part-owner of a playing company called the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He appears to have retired to Stratford around 1613 at age 49, where he died three years later. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his physical appearance, sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others. 

Shakespeare produced most of his known work between 1589 and 1613. His early plays were mainly comedies and histories and these works remain regarded as some the best work produced in these genres even today. He then wrote mainly tragedies until about 1608, including Hamlet, King Lear, Othello, and Macbeth, considered some of the finest works in the English language. In his last phase, he wrote tragicomedies, also known as romances, and collaborated with other playwrights.  

Many of his plays were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime. In 1623, John Heminges and Henry Condell, two friends and fellow actors of Shakespeare, published the First Folio, a collected edition of his dramatic works that included all but two of the plays now recognised as Shakespeare's. It was prefaced with a poem by Ben Jonson, in which Shakespeare is hailed, presciently, as "not of an age, but for all time". 

Shakespeare was a respected poet and playwright in his own day, but his reputation did not rise to its present heights until the 19th century. The Romantics, in particular, acclaimed Shakespeare's genius, and the Victorians worshipped Shakespeare with a reverence that George Bernard Shaw called "bardolatry". In the 20th century, his work was repeatedly adopted and rediscovered by new movements in scholarship and performance. His plays remain highly popular today and are constantly studied, performed, and reinterpreted in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world.