In this captivating episode, we delve into the world of Alexandre Dumas' classic tale, "The Count of Monte Cristo," brought to life by Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre on the Air. The story follows Edmond Dantes, a young sailor who is wrongfully imprisoned due to the treachery of those he considered friends. As Dantes endures the harsh conditions of the Chateau D'If, he encounters a fellow prisoner who reveals the existence of a hidden treasure. This revelation sets Dantes on a path of escape and revenge, as he transforms into the enigmatic Count of Monte Cristo, seeking justice against those who betrayed him.
Throughout the episode, we witness the intricate plot unfold, with Dantes' meticulous planning and execution of his vengeance against his former friends, now powerful figures in society. The narrative explores themes of betrayal, justice, and redemption, as Dantes navigates the complexities of his new identity and the moral implications of his quest for retribution. Orson Welles' masterful storytelling and the Mercury Theatre's dynamic performance bring this timeless adventure to life, capturing the imagination of listeners and leaving them pondering the true cost of revenge.
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The Mercury Theater
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on the air. The Columbia Broadcasting System takes pride in bringing you Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre on the Air in another broadcast of a unique series, which signalizes radio's first presentation of a complete theatrical producing company. For these programs, the regular member stations of the Columbia Broadcasting System are joined by the coast to coast network of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Tonight, the Mercury Theatre turns to another of the great narratives and adventure stories of the world of literature, The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.
And here again is the director, the star, and producer of these broadcasts, Orson Welles. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
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There is no reasonable explanation of Alexandre Dumas.
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He was a rich man. We note with interest that he went bankrupt in the theater. He was a revolutionary.
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Marquis. His grandmother was a Negress. He was born as Napoleon became emperor. He died in poverty as the Germans marched into France. He wrote The Count of Monte Cristo as a newspaper serial, and shortly after the last installment, a ball and a bullfight were organized for him in Seville and finally in Algiers, the customs men let his baggage through without examination. Such things don't and can't happen today, but then neither does Alexandre Dumas himself, the wildest romance of a man, who could and did openly maintain at 70 numerous establishments and a literary factory as well whose quantitative output is equaled in the arts only by Ruben's studio.
There's a good story about what Dumas Peir told Dumas Fils. Father, said the inventor of Camille, I have just read your latest book. Have you, my son? Said Dumas Peir. What's it about? I am not sure I have. It is no secret and no shame either that the Chateau Monte Cristo was haunted by many goat writers and that its owner signed his name to more books than anyone could ever write. It is not expected of pharaoh that he build with his own hands his own pyramids, Juma plot is an airtight alibi for a whole career. Of all these, out of question, the most gloriously complex, possibly the most impossible, watchworks and as big as Pittsburgh.
Among hundreds, one Dumas plot persists as the most ingenious tall story ever perpetrated by the mind of man. God's vengeance on radio scriptwriters and your indestructible delight in spite of us. Here then is a humble fifty seven minutes worth of The Count of Monte Cristo. In the year 1815, I, Edmondantius, was first mate of the pharaoh, bound for Marseille from Smyrna, Trieste, and Naples. The day we left Naples, the captain was attacked by a fever and died within three days. On the September, we sighted the coast of France. Some hours later, we rounded the Chateau D'If and entered Marseille Harbour. M. Morrel, the owner, came abroad.
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Good day, M. Morrel.
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Good day, M. Dunbar.
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You've heard of the misfortune, mr.
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Morrel? Yes, yes. You mean poor Captain Leclerc. He was a brave and an honest man. And a first rate seaman growing old between sky and ocean. Well, a man needs not the old angler to know his business. Edmund Dantes, your mate there, seems to understand his thorough aim. Hey. Let go of the anchor.
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You see, he fancies himself captain already and so, in fact, he is.
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Monsieur Morrell, at your service you called me, I think. Yes, that is. I'm told you stopped a day
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and a half at the Isle Of Elba. Why?
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I don't know, sir.
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You don't know? No, sir.
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It was to fulfill the last instruction of Captain LeClaire when he was dying. He gave me a packet to be delivered on the island.
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You did right, dentist, to follow Captain Leclair's instructions. Though if it were known that you've delivered a packet to the island,
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it might get you into trouble. Could it get me into trouble, sir? If I don't even know what it was I was delivering. Beg your pardon, sir. Sir. Yeah. The customs officer's coming alongside. Hey there. Order companionway.
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Well, monsieur Morrel? Yes, monsieur Langlois?
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Edmond Dotties gave you satisfactory reasons for his landing at Alba? Oh, yes. Quite satisfactory.
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So much the better. Yes. It was captain Leclerc who gave orders for this delay. Talking of captain Leclerc,
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has Dante has given you a letter from him? To me? No. Was there one? I believe that beside the packet, captain Leclerc had confided a letter to his care. Of what packet are you speaking, Danglars? Of that which Dantes left at the Isle Of Elba. How do you know he had a packet to leave at the Isle Of Elba? I was passing close to the door of the captain's cabin, which was partly open.
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I saw him him give the letter and the packet to Dante's. He didn't speak to me of it, but if there was any letter, he'll give it to me. Dangra, you'll report to the office this afternoon with the bills of lading and the storage plans. Good day. Good day, monsieur Morel.
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It's a wonderful thing to be home again after three months at sea, to see the places you've grown up in as a boy and the streets full of people. I found my father in the little dark room where he lived on the Fourth Floor of a house in the Rue Du Nueye. Father, Edmond. Father, what is it you, Ewell? Father, what's wrong with you? No. No. My boy, my son. No. But I I didn't expect you in the joy and surprise of seeing you so suddenly. Father, listen to me. I'm to be captain at 20, a captain with CHF3,000 pay and a share in the profits. Isn't that more than I could have hoped for? Yes. Yes, dear boy.
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Much more than we could have expected. Smart young dog, sir. Hey, Dan.
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In the doorway stood our neighbor, the tailor, Catterouse.
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Captain, hey. May I know someone below the Church Of Saint Michel who won't be sorry to hear about this. Hey, Dante?
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Mercedes. That's who he means, father. And now that I know your will, your consent, I'll go to her. Go, dear boy. And heaven bless you in a wife as it it blessed me. In a wife? How fast you go, father Dante. She isn't his wife yet as far as I know. She soon will be. Yes. Yes. But you were wise to return when you did, my boy. Oh, Catteras, what do you mean by that? Oh, I don't mean anything in particular.
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Mercedes, a very fine girl, and fine girls never like suitors. There's one in particular, a cousin of hers, I think he is, Fenner Mondego. I've even heard his What's that? Oh, don't worry, my boy. Now that you're captain, who could refuse you? Say that if I were not a captain I didn't say that. My boy, I didn't say that. No offense, ma'am. My boy, no offense.
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I went into the street down past the Church Of Saint Michel into the Fisherman's Quarter. Mercedes. Mercedes.
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Edmund, you're back.
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We were in each other's arms. The burning sun of Marseille covered us with a flood of light. At first, I saw nothing but her face raised to mine. The shining eyes, the the eager lips. Then suddenly in the room behind us, I saw the face of a young man, pale and threatening, and I saw that he had his hand on a knife at his belt. Mercedes,
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who is this man?
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Mercedes, I did not expect to meet an enemy here in your house. Who is no enemy? This is my cousin. We've been friends since childhood.
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Fernand is the man whom, after you, Edmond, I love best in the
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world. Well, give me your hand, Fernand. Is your name Edmond Dantes? Fernand Mondego came forward. For an instant, I saw a look of deadly hatred in his eyes. Then quickly, without giving his hand, he went past us and out into the street. Betrothal feast is a gay affair in the South. Monsieur Morell removed every difficulty. The papers were soon drawn up. The arrangements were simple. Mercedes had no fortune. Who among the persons here are sample answers in the name of Edmund Dantes? I'm Edmund Dantes. What do you want of me? Edmund Dantes in the name of the law, I arrest you. Arrest me? To be duly acquainted with the reason for your arrest at your first examination. Officer, sir. Officer, he is quite smart. He's done nothing wrong. He's a good boy. But, mister, Edmund possible. In
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Come in. Sir,
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the thief walked. Here is the prisoner. Bring him in. Wait outside. Yes, sir.
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What is your name?
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Are you the king's prosecutor, sir? Yes.
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Yes. Your name?
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My name is Edmond Dantes.
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You have all the information in your power. Have you served under the usurper Napoleon?
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No, sir.
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It is reported that your political opinions are extreme. My political opinions?
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Alas, I never had any opinions.
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I'm hardly 19, sir. What do you make of this then? It is a letter Monsieur Dantes will read it.
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Monsieur, the king's prosecutor is hereby informed by a friend of the throne and religion, but one Edmond Dantes, mate of the ship, Pharaoh, arrived this morning from Smyrna, and having touched at Naples and the island Of Elba, he's been entrusted by the usurper with a letter for the Bonapartist Committee in Paris. Proof of this crime will be found on arresting him, but the letter will be found on his person, his father's, or in his cabin on board the fellow. I'm
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sorry, sir. I don't understand it. Do you know the right No, sir. Whoever did it might as well. Now, have you any enemies? Not that I know of, sir. Now answer me frankly. Not as a prisoner to a judge, but as one man to another.
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Is there any truth in this accusation? Not at all, sir. I swear by my honor as a sailor. Then I told him my story. I told him how Captain Leclair on his deathbed had entrusted a packet to me and told me with his dying breath to deliver it to the Island Of Elba. What did you do then? What should I have done, monsieur? What every man would have done in my place, I sailed to the Island Of Elba. I delivered the packet and was given return a letter to be delivered to a man here in Marseille. Did it because it was what my captain had told me to do? I landed here yesterday. That is all, sir. I see.
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Well, that sounds like the truth. Now give up this letter you would have brought from Elba. Give us your word that you will appear if you're called and go back to your friends. I'm free then, sir? Yes. But first, give me this letter. Here you are, sir. Very well. By the way, to whom were you to deliver this letter?
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To Francois Duarte of the city. Francois Duarte? Yes, sir.
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Why do you know this man? A faithful servant of the king does not know conspirators. Have you shown this letter to anyone? To no one, sir. My honor. Nobody knows that you are the bearer of a letter from the Isle Of Elba addressed to Francois and White King. Nobody, sir, except the person who gave it to me. Why so?
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What's the matter?
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What's the matter, sir? You give me your word of honor that you are ignorant of the contents of this letter. Word of honor, sir, but what's the matter? You're ill, sir. Shall I call for help? No. Stay where you are. It is for me to give orders here, not you. I'm sorry. I am no longer able, as I had hoped, to restore you to liberty. Before doing so, there are formalities to be gone through. I'll try to make them as short as possible. The principal charge against you, as you know, is this letter, and you see what I do with it. You see,
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I destroy it. Oh, my dear de Viofo. Your
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goodness itself. Now then, do you trust me? Order me, sir, I'll obey. Listen, this is not an order, but vice that I give you. Yes, monsieur. I shall keep you until this evening here in the Palais De Justice. Yes, sir. Should anyone else question you, don't breathe a word of this letter. I promise. You see, the letter is destroyed. You and I alone know of its existence. So if they question you about it, deny all knowledge of it. I will, sir. It was the only letter you had. It was. Where it
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I swear. Did you ring, monsieur? A guard entered. Villefort whispered something in his ear to which he replied by a motion of his head. Follow this man, Monsieur Dantes.
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He has his orders.
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I was taken to a cell. Presently, it grew dark. Hours later, I heard steps coming along a corridor. By the torches they carried, I saw the glittering sabers and carbines of four gendarmes. Edmund Dantes. Have you come to fetch me? Yes. By the orders of the king's prosecutor? I believe so. Come with us. Is this carriage for me? It is for
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you. Get in.
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Get on board.
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He was
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there.
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He sat in the stern sheets with a guard on each side of me in the little boat.
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There there. King's business. Lower the chain.
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The chain that closes the mouth of a port at night lowered. Soon we were outside the harbor. My first feeling was one of joy at breathing the fine sea air again, then of sadness as I saw the light of La Reserve away to the left of me and heard the sound of voices and music coming through the open windows. Now we had passed the Tete D'Noire. We were in front of the lighthouse. We were about to double the battery. Where are you taking me? He also don't know. But I want to know We are forbidden to give you any information. Now we'd left the iron off to know where the lighthouses stood, and we were going past the Fisherman's Quarter.
A few lights were visible from the water. If I cried out, perhaps Mercedes might hear me. I remained silent. My eyes fixed on the lights. The boat went on, and presently, a rising ground hid the lights. Then I saw that we were out to sea. Comrades, beloved, god, tell me where we're going. You're a native of Marseille and the sailor, yet you don't know where you're going. I have no idea. Unless you're blind or have never been outside the harbor, you must No. Look around you. And suddenly within a hundred yards of me tonight, I saw a dark frowning rock with a tower on it, like a great black scaffold.
The Chateau D'If. Quite right, my friend. The Chateau D'If. Help.
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Help. Let me go. Help. Help. Help. Come in a sec. I'm innocent. I'm innocent. I'm innocent.
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Dantes.
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Dantes, haven't you slept?
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I don't know. Are you hungry? I don't know.
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Do you want anything? I wanna see the governor. The governor. I wanna see the I'm innocent. I'm innocent. Five minutes of oh,
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Another day. Another eternity. I threw out my food under the floor. I walked around and found the narrow cell like a wild beast in its cage. I tore up the straw of my mattress. Santos.
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Well, are you reasonable today? I wanna see the I've told you that's impossible. Why is it impossible? It's not allowed. I want to see the governor. Take my advice, my friend. Don't brood over what's impossible. Pull it out of your head. You think so? We had an instance of it here in this cell, a priest who was here before you. He kept offering the governor a million francs for his freedom. In the end, he went out of his head. When was he in his cell? Two years ago. Was he set free? No. He was put in a dungeon. Listen to me.
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I wanna see the governor. If you don't let me see the governor some day, I'll hide behind the door. And when you come in, I'll dash your brains out with a stool. That's a
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hey. Put that stool up. Are you gonna let me see the governor? Put it down. Put that stool down. Put it down. Well, do I I see the governor? Yes. Yes. Yes. You shall see the governor at once. That's
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better. It's better. Hurry. Hurry. Present at the jailer return with four soldiers.
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By the governor's orders, take the prisoner to the provolone. The dungeon men? That's right. We put madmen with madmen. You don't understand it.
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I tell you I'm innocent. I'm minister David.
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Months went by underground foul, humid, and dark. Every day, twice a day, morning and evening, the jailer came to my cell and put down the vile food and went away without speaking to me. My hair and nails had grown long and my skin was white as a leopard. I've been proud the first months. Now I began to beg. I begged to be moved from this dungeon to another. I begged to be allowed to walk about. I begged for books. Nothing was granted. I spoke to the jailer when he brought me my food. He rarely answered me. But to speak to a man, even though mute, was something.
I tried to speak when alone, but the sound of my own voice terrified me. After what must have been three or four years, the governor of the Chateau D'If was transferred. The new man never troubled to learn my name. I was no longer Edmondantis. I was number 34. I took to praying, but not as men pray in prosperity. In my prayers, I laid out every action of my life before the almighty. Still, I remained a prisoner. Then a deep gloom took possession of me, and then furious rage and savage thoughts of revenge. And while I, I dashed myself against the walls of my prison, I tore it my own flesh with my nails. And then in the end in the end, I began to think of dying. I swore that I would starve myself to death. So every morning and every evening, I threw out through the small grated window all the food the jailer brought me, every bit of it. At first, gaily and then thoughtfully and then with regret.
I held the plate in my hand for an hour at a time, gazing at the morsel of bad meat, of tainted fish, of black and moldy bread. Then I remembered my old son threw the dish away. One day, I found I had not sufficient force to throw my supper out of the window. The next morning, I could hardly see or hear. I knew I was dying. The day went by. I felt a sort of stupor creeping over me. The gnawing pain at my stomach had ceased. My thirst had abated. When I closed my eyes, I saw myriads of lights dancing before them. I was on the edge of that mysterious country called death.
Suddenly, a little after dark, I heard a hollow sound in the wall against which I was lying. I sat up and listened. It was a continual scratching as if made by a huge claw, some iron instrument scraping against the stones.
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Then all was silent.
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Soon afterwards, it began again, nearer and more distinct. Perhaps it was only a workman repairing a neighboring dungeon. I would soon find out. The sound continued. With Southernwear Jug, I knocked against the wall where the sound came.
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Then the
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sound stopped. The night passed in complete silence. I never closed my eyes. Three days passed. Three long days and never a sound. At last, on the
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fourth evening,
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whoever it was was quite close to me now. I wanted desperately to help him, but I had nothing. No knife or or sharp instrument. I smashed my other more jug. That night, I moved my bed out from the wall and started to scrape the plaster with a piece from my broken jug. Soon when the fragments of plaster began to fall away. In three days, I uncovered a large stone. The next day about noon, the stone began to move. Oh, my god. My god. I don't feel me now. My god.
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The talks of god in this place.
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Speak again.
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In the name of heaven,
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speak. Who are you? A prisoner.
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Of what country? A Frenchman. Your name? Edmond Dantes. How long have you been here? Since the February 1815. Your crime? I am
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innocent. And you?
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Who are you? I am number 27. How long have you been here? Since 2200. Twenty years.
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All that must be worked. Then just before dawn, a portion of the floor in my cell gave way. And from the bottom of this passage, the depth of which it was impossible to measure appeared the head, the shoulders, and lastly, the body of a man. To this man, I owe all that I possess, all that I know, know, all that I have become. In the prison, he was known as the mad priest. I never learned his name. For eight years, we saw each other every day using the tunnel he had dug through the solid rock, concealing the mouth of the passage with stones carefully fitted in place. By the sundial he had traced on the wall of his cell, we knew the hours of the god's visit. The rest of the day we were together. He had been a great rest of the day, we were together. He had been a great scholar in his day, and all that he knew, he taught me with infinite, loving patience
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day after day, year after
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year. Then, one morning when I went down, I found him standing in the middle of his cell,
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pale as death. Quick, Dantes. Quick.
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Listen to what I have to say. What is it, father? Tell me. I beseech you. What's the matter? I am dying.
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Open to my bed. See, half my body is paralyzed already.
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Here, father.
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Thank you, my son. Now listen to me. All is over with me. This night or tomorrow, I shall be dead. But, father I know the illness. There is no hope, and I shall never leave this place now. Before I die, there's something I want to give you.
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In his hand, he held a morsel of paper tightly rolled together, a half burn paper on which were some lines of gothic character, placed with a peculiar kind of ink.
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This paper, my child, is my treasure. From this day forth, it belongs to you. Your treasure? Oh, yes. I know what's passing through your mind at this this moment. Even now, you, like all the others. But be assured, my child, I am not mad. This treasure exists. Read what it says.
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This which may amount a declutter,
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April 14.
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See. You see. I seem to put broken lines and unconnected words, but Yes.
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To you who read them for the first time. But to me, who have grown pale over them by many nights study, who have reconstructed every phrase, completed every thought. Have you ever heard of the great Spada treasure? I've heard sailors talk of it. Yes. Fourteen years. I worked for the house of Spada. That paper you have asked is what is left of the will of cardinal Spada murdered by Roderick Borgia. Now take this and put the two pieces together and read.
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The April 1498, being invited to dine by his holiness Alexander the sixth, and fearing for my life, I declared to my nephew Guido Spada, my sole heir, that I have buried in a place he knows, in the caves of the island of Monte Cristo. All I possess of ingots, gold, money, jewels, and diamonds, which treasure may amount to nearly 2,000,000 of Roman crowns, which you will find in the farthest angle of the island cave. And this treasure I bequeath and leave entire to him as my sole heir, Rodrigo Spada, ten million crowns. Yes.
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A hundred million francs of our money. Think of the good a man could do in the world with a hundred million francs. Yes. Now I am dying. With my dying breath, I leave this treasure to you.
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Pray god, you'd be more fortunate than I. But I have no right to it, sir.
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You are my son, Dantes. You are the child that God sent to console me in my captivity.
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Two days later, in fearful agony, he died. I closed his eyes and laid him out to rest as well as I could. That night, the governor of the prison came down to look at the body.
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Well, the madman's gone to look after his treasure.
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With all his millions, he hasn't enough to pay for a shroud. Is the unneeded?
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Yes, sir.
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Apply it to the soles of his feet. From where I stood in the secret passage, I could smell the sickening odor of burnt flesh. Dead alright. Poor devil. He was a priest. Get him the newest sack you can can At the time, shall we bury him, sir? The usual. When the cell was empty again, I went in on the bed at full length, and faintly lighted by the light of a single candle was visible a sack of coarse cloth. In it was stretched a long and stiffened form. I unlaced the sack, drew the corpse out, and carried it through the tunnel to my cell. I laid
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it on my bed, turned the head to the wall, and covered it with a sheet.
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For the last time, I kissed the ice cold brow. Then I went back to the dead man's cell. I could hear steps and the passage of the guards came down with a stretcher. Quickly, I laced up the sack around my body. I lay stiff hoping they would not hear the beating of my heart. Here we go. You take the head, and I'll take the feet.
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He's heavy enough for an old man. I say every year adds half a pound to the bone. Yeah. Forward, much. Half a pound. Steady
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while I open this door. Lord, it's cold up here. Yeah. Pleasant morning for a dip in the ocean. A bit chilly, I'd say. Have you got the weight? Here it is. Tie it on around your feet. Yeah, that's right. Tight. See if you could do it any tighter. Yeah, that's alright. That'll sink him. Right now. Are you ready? One, two Hey. Wait a minute. Get near to the edge. The last one was smashed on a rock. We got the blame for it, I said. Come on, nice. Pretty good now. Let's
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go. One,
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two,
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three.
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You are listening to the CBS presentation of Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre on the Air in Alexander Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo. The performance will continue in just a moment. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
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September eighteen thirty four, there arrived in Marseille a man of about 38 or 40 of a pallor that was almost livid. He gave the impression of a man who had been enclosed for a long time in a tomb. Soon after landing, he inquired for a man by the name of Dantes. And hearing that he'd been dead for the past fourteen years, he asked for a tailor called Caderousse. Have you guys bought Caderousse? I am. Let's go inside, my friend. I have to talk to you.
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Well,
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what is it? Mister Caderousse, in the year 1814 or '15, did you know a young sailor by the name of Dantes?
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Dantes? Yes. Why do you ask? Is he alive? No. He died in prison. Died,
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What did he die of? What do young strong men usually die of in prison? He died of sorrow and a broken heart. And before he died, he begged me to clear his name. He gave me the names that people here in Marseille would be his friends. There are three, he said, besides my father and the girl I was betrothed to. One of of them is Caderousse.
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He said that.
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The second is Dangla. Dangla. The third is Fenar Mondego. Mondego. You know these men?
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Know them. Where in heaven's name have you been, my friend? There isn't a man in France who doesn't know them. Dangar is a millionaire, has a banking house of his own. Baron Dangar, he calls himself now. A And Mondago's accountant, the cabinet minister, and an officer of the legion of honor with a house in Paris a block wide. I should tell you something about these two. Not that it'll do much good now that he's dead. Who? That young fellow you were talking about, Dante's. I have a good mind to tell you anyway. Do you know who sent Edmund Dante's to prison?
Well, I do. It was two men who were jealous of him. One for love and one for ambition.
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And do you know who they were?
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I'll tell you. Montego and Dan Glass.
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I thought they were his friends.
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That's what he thought. What did they do? They denounced him to the police as a traitor.
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And was he a traitor?
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No more than you were I. Which of the two denounced him? Both, monsieur. It was Dangar who wrote the letter and Mondego who put it in the post. When was this letter written? The grave is there. The night before the wedding How do you know? Were you there? I was at the next table. They thought I was too drunk to hear. I see. How about this girl that his was betrothed to? Mercedes. Yes.
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Yes. That's That's her name. What happened to her? Well,
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sir, that's a sad story. When Dante was arrested, she was nearly mad with grief. Pitiful, he was. Six months went by and there was no news of him. And every day there was her mother telling her he was dead and telling her to marry Mondego. She came to see old Dante's. Edmund is dead, he said to her. If he weren't, he would have returned to us. Then the old man died, and that left her quite alone. Still, she waited, and still no word from him. And in the end, after a year, she married Mondago. And now she's one of the greatest ladies in Paris.
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A Year. She waited a year. What did you say? Nothing. Nothing. You say Edmund Dantes' father died? Yes.
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Soon after, his son disappeared.
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What did did he die of? If you ask me, he died of starvation. Starvation? The doctor had another name for it, and I know better. He locked himself up in his womb and died of starvation.
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Later that day, the stranger appeared at the Palais De Justice and asked to see the prison records for the year 1815. He obtained permission to go through the case of a certain Edmund Dantes, imprisoned that year and subsequently reported as dead. He found everything arranged in due order, the denunciation, examination, and the magistrate's marginal notes. He read the examination and noted with surprise that the name of Francois Noirtier, to whom the fatal letter had been addressed, never once appeared in it. There was a notation in the margin which read as follows, Edmond Dantes, an inveterate criminal to be kept in complete solitary confinement and to be strictly watched and guarded.
It was signed. Below in another hand was written, prisoner killed while attempting to escape. That night, the stranger left Marseille going north. Wheel for Mondago. Dongla. View for Mondago, Dongla. Find out everything there is to know about them. Every move they've made. Every word they've said. Every line they've written. Yes, sir. Find out about their homes, their wives, their children, their friends. Yes, Find out where they got their power, how they made their money, whom they robbed, whom they cheated, whom they murdered. One day in November, Baron Danglars, head of the banking house of that that name, received a visit from a new client.
Monsieur LeBarondanglais.
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I have the honor of addressing the count of Monte Cristo. You have, sir. Have you been in Paris long, sir? Paris long, sir? Since this morning. I have a letter here, sir, from a firm of Thompson in French in Rome. A letter of credits in your name. Good. And I take it that beginning today, my checks will be duly honored by your house. In this letter, sir, there is one thing not quite clear. Indeed. According to this letter, the count of Monte Cristo is to have unlimited
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credit on our house. And what is there in that simple fact that requires explanation? Merely the term unlimited. Are
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you suggesting that Thompson and French are not looked upon as solvent bankers? Oh, no. No. It was not their solvency that I spoke of. I see. But the word unlimited in financial affairs is so extremely vague a term.
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To me, Baron, the word means exactly what it says.
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It means without limitation. I assure you, sir, that up to the amount of a million I beg your pardon. I said that should you be hard pressed, were you even to require a million
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francs? My dear sir. For a trifle like that, I assure you I should never have trouble to open an account. CHF1,000,000? Excuse my smiling when you speak of a sum that I'm in the habit of carrying in my pocketbook. I admit I am hardly If you would prefer not to handle this account, Baron I have letters similar to yours addressed to bearing of London and Rothschild of the city. We'd have no scruples in declining. I assure you I never No. No. No. No. You merely wish to be convinced that your stockholders ran no risk, nothing more. Very sound, Baron Tundler.
I understand they include some of the greatest names in France. Am I right? The Duke de Mondego?
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The Baron de Villefort? It is not generally known that these gentlemen
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Of course. Of course. Now we understand one another, I should like to draw tomorrow the sum, shall we say. CHF6,000,000, half gold, half notes. CHF6,000,000? As you say, sir. If I should require more, I should let you know. Oh, by the way, Baron d'Anglere, buy for me tomorrow 10,000 shares of Austrian Commonwealth. You have some information, sir, about this, sir? You will find, sir, that I never gamble except in certainties. Rarely has Paris been more intrigued than it was that winter by the mysterious Count de Montecristo. Of his title, nothing was known save that he derived it from a small, uninhabited island off the coast of Corsica.
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The source of his fortune was equally obscure,
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yet his wealth seemed inexhaustible. The paintings in his house and the Champs Elysees were valued at CHF3,000,000 and it was known that for his carriage wheels alone, he had paid CHF1,000,000, yet far from diminishing. By the December, successful speculation had increased his deposit at Dangla's bank from 4 to nearly CHF6,000,000. The December, a bore was given by the count and countess Dimondego.
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Mercedes, may I present the most talked of man in Paris, the Count of Monte Cristo, Canister of Montego. I am deeply honored. What is it, Mercedes? What is it? Are you ill? It's nothing, Fernand.
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Perhaps the healer's room. It was kind of you to come, sir. Will you give me your arm, count de Monte Cristo?
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I am on it, madame.
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Is it it true, Count, what everyone is saying about you in Paris that you've seen so much, traveled so far, and suffered so deeply?
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I have suffered deeply, madame.
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Now you are happy?
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No doubt since no one hears me complain.
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Your present happiness, has it softened your heart?
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My present happiness does not equal my past misery.
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Are you not married? I
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married. No, madame.
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You are alone then. I am. You have no sister, no father. I have none. How do you exist thus without anyone to hold you to life? Madam,
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long ago, I loved loved a girl. It was on the point of marrying her madam when we were separated. I thought she loved me well enough to wait for me, and even to remain faithful to my grave. When I returned, she was married. Perhaps my heart was weaker than that of most, and I suffered more than they would've in my place. It's all, madame.
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And you are still you've still this love in your heart. It is true one can love only once. Did you ever see her again?
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Never.
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And you have forgiven her for all she has made you suffer?
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Yes. I have forgiven her.
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But only her? Do you still hate those who separated you? Do you still want to punish them?
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They will be punished, madame. But it is not I who will punish them. It is their own past.
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Danglars, Peter Ford, Juan Diego.
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What have you found out about these men?
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Danglars. Danglars, native of Marseille. Banker, Three times bankrupt. Convicted of using cherished funds. Yeah. Recently suspected of plunging heavily with borrowed funds.
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Villefort. Villefort,
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native of Marseille. Formerly King's agent of that city where he acted as bona fide spy under the name of Francois Ouachier. Ouachier. Known to accept bribes. At present, prosecutor general at King's Court said to speculate heavily with Langlois Bank. Mondago. Mondago native of Marseille, dismissed from naval service for theft. Pride for murder, 1816. Deserted French army, eighteen twenty four. Eighteen twenty eight, betrayed Ali Pasha to Turks for 2,000,000 piastres. Believed involved heavy losses down last bank.
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Mister Danglars, he's in the private office,
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Baron de Villefort. Good morning, Villefort. Hello, Montego. You're late, Villefort. What is Danglars? You sent for me in court. I hope it's something good this time we need it. Just arrived. A private message to the Count of Monte Cristo from Thompson and French Rome.
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They've never been wrong yet. If you know you intercept this message as Dunbar, who cares? What does it say? Read it. Secret treaty signed tonight. Anglo Italian due sharp rise.
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Buy all available shares, Thompson and French. Well, we are going to buy. Dangla, I'm worried. Everything you've touched has gone wrong lately. Those Belgian bonds, we lost half a million on them. Whose fault was that? On whose information? Can I have Dangla if the government takes its mind? Gentlemen, gentlemen.
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Our situation is desperate. We've got to plunge. Things have been going badly lately. We have no choice. If it weren't for Monte Cristo's deposits, we'd been bankrupt three weeks ago. If that money should be called today or
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tomorrow or the next day, this bank is ruined. Dangla, I don't see what that has to do with us. Oh, you don't, don't you? If I go, you go. Make no mistake about that. Gentlemen. What do you propose to do about it, Dangla?
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It's our only chance to get out. I propose to buy every share of Anglo Italian that comes into this market. With what? You forget, gentlemen. The count of Monte Cristo has CHF6,000,000
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deposited in this bank. And what about this message? Does Monte Cristo get to see it? This message, gentlemen,
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was lost in transmission.
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300 shares, 130. 1 hundred and 20 5. 3 hundred shares at 150.
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1 hundred and 60. 1 hundred and 70 5. 12
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60 2 thousand shares. How much profit does that show? So far, 3 quarters of a million. And it's only a beginning. Who was selling? I don't know. I couldn't find out. Come in. Well, well, what is it? The Count of Monte Cristo to see you, sir. Tell him I'm not Good afternoon
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and gentlemen. I hope I don't intrude. Dangla? De Villefort? Mondago? How fortunate. Gentlemen, I'm here to say goodbye. Goodbye? I have decided to leave Paris for a while, perhaps forever. Before I go, there are certain things I have left to do. Monsieur Dangla, I am in need of money for my journey. My credit on your books as of tonight is CHF6,000,000, less about a million to cover certain stocks I sold short today. Here is a check for CHF5,000,000 made out of cash. Cash. My carriage is outside. I'll take half in notes, half in gold. But surely I beg your pardon? Surely, sir, such a very large sum.
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If you could conveniently wait for this money for 24 or for the most, 48
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I told you. Baron Dangre, I'm leaving Paris tonight. Oh, by the way, Baron, you may be interested to learn. Less than an hour ago, Anglo Italian went into liquidation. At this moment, that stock is worth less than the paper on which it's printed. But the message from Thompson and French That message was sent on my instructions three days ago. You see, gentlemen, I own Thompson and That is not true that the treaty As far as I know, Mondago, there never was any question of a treaty. But it means that you three gentlemen are ruined. It means that you, Dangla, have robbed the poor and the helpless for the last time. I'll prosecute you for this. I'll just do a warrant for your arrest. I don't think you will, Baron de Beaufort.
In the first place, that message was addressed to me. In the second place, since noon today, there has been in the hands of the minister of justice a complete record of the career of Francois Duarte, Baron de Villefort, spy, thief, forcher, informer, torturer. Who am I?
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Still, you do not know?
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I know you very well, Fernand Mondego. And tomorrow, all Paris will know you for what you are, deserter, traitor, murderer. Who are you? What have we done to you? You condemned me to a slow, horrible death. You killed my father. You deprived me of love, of freedom, of happiness. Not in god's name who I I am the specter of a wretch you buried in the dungeons of the Chateau D'If. You guess it now, do you not? Or rather, you remember it. For notwithstanding all my sorrows and my tortures, I show you now a face which has the happiness of revenge and which is young again.
A face you must often have seen in your dreams since your marriage, Mondego, with Mercedes, my betrothed. Yes, Mondego. I am Edmond Dante's.
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Tonight, the Columbia Broadcasting System through its affiliated stations coast to coast and the network of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation has brought you a performance of Alexander Dumas' great adventure story, The Count of Monte Cristo, as dramatized in the first person singular by Orson Welles and played by the Mercury Theatre on the Air. In the cast this evening, Ray Collins as the Abbey Faria, George Caloris as Monsieur Morel, Edgar Barrier as DeVillefort, Eustace Wyatt as Caderousse, Paul Stewart as Old Dantes, Sydney Smith as Fernand Mondego, Richard Wilson as the officer, William Allen as a merchant, Anna Stafford as Mercedes, and Orson Welles as Edmund Dante's The Count of Monte Cristo.
The orchestra was directed by Alexander Semler, and Davidson Taylor supervised the production for CBS. Dan Seymour speaking. Next week at the same time, another great narrative brought to life by Orson Wells and the Mercury Theatre on the air. The man who Thursday by GK Chesterton. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
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The Mercury Theater
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on the air. The Columbia Broadcasting System takes pride in bringing you Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre on the Air in another broadcast of a unique series, which signalizes radio's first presentation of a complete theatrical producing company. For these programs, the regular member stations of the Columbia Broadcasting System are joined by the coast to coast network of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Tonight, the Mercury Theatre turns to another of the great narratives and adventure stories of the world of literature, The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.
And here again is the director, the star, and producer of these broadcasts, Orson Welles. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
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There is no reasonable explanation of Alexandre Dumas.
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He was a rich man. We note with interest that he went bankrupt in the theater. He was a revolutionary.
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Marquis. His grandmother was a Negress. He was born as Napoleon became emperor. He died in poverty as the Germans marched into France. He wrote The Count of Monte Cristo as a newspaper serial, and shortly after the last installment, a ball and a bullfight were organized for him in Seville and finally in Algiers, the customs men let his baggage through without examination. Such things don't and can't happen today, but then neither does Alexandre Dumas himself, the wildest romance of a man, who could and did openly maintain at 70 numerous establishments and a literary factory as well whose quantitative output is equaled in the arts only by Ruben's studio.
There's a good story about what Dumas Peir told Dumas Fils. Father, said the inventor of Camille, I have just read your latest book. Have you, my son? Said Dumas Peir. What's it about? I am not sure I have. It is no secret and no shame either that the Chateau Monte Cristo was haunted by many goat writers and that its owner signed his name to more books than anyone could ever write. It is not expected of pharaoh that he build with his own hands his own pyramids, Juma plot is an airtight alibi for a whole career. Of all these, out of question, the most gloriously complex, possibly the most impossible, watchworks and as big as Pittsburgh.
Among hundreds, one Dumas plot persists as the most ingenious tall story ever perpetrated by the mind of man. God's vengeance on radio scriptwriters and your indestructible delight in spite of us. Here then is a humble fifty seven minutes worth of The Count of Monte Cristo. In the year 1815, I, Edmondantius, was first mate of the pharaoh, bound for Marseille from Smyrna, Trieste, and Naples. The day we left Naples, the captain was attacked by a fever and died within three days. On the September, we sighted the coast of France. Some hours later, we rounded the Chateau D'If and entered Marseille Harbour. M. Morrel, the owner, came abroad.
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Good day, M. Morrel.
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Good day, M. Dunbar.
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You've heard of the misfortune, mr.
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Morrel? Yes, yes. You mean poor Captain Leclerc. He was a brave and an honest man. And a first rate seaman growing old between sky and ocean. Well, a man needs not the old angler to know his business. Edmund Dantes, your mate there, seems to understand his thorough aim. Hey. Let go of the anchor.
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You see, he fancies himself captain already and so, in fact, he is.
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Monsieur Morrell, at your service you called me, I think. Yes, that is. I'm told you stopped a day
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and a half at the Isle Of Elba. Why?
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I don't know, sir.
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You don't know? No, sir.
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It was to fulfill the last instruction of Captain LeClaire when he was dying. He gave me a packet to be delivered on the island.
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You did right, dentist, to follow Captain Leclair's instructions. Though if it were known that you've delivered a packet to the island,
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it might get you into trouble. Could it get me into trouble, sir? If I don't even know what it was I was delivering. Beg your pardon, sir. Sir. Yeah. The customs officer's coming alongside. Hey there. Order companionway.
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Well, monsieur Morrel? Yes, monsieur Langlois?
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Edmond Dotties gave you satisfactory reasons for his landing at Alba? Oh, yes. Quite satisfactory.
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So much the better. Yes. It was captain Leclerc who gave orders for this delay. Talking of captain Leclerc,
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has Dante has given you a letter from him? To me? No. Was there one? I believe that beside the packet, captain Leclerc had confided a letter to his care. Of what packet are you speaking, Danglars? Of that which Dantes left at the Isle Of Elba. How do you know he had a packet to leave at the Isle Of Elba? I was passing close to the door of the captain's cabin, which was partly open.
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I saw him him give the letter and the packet to Dante's. He didn't speak to me of it, but if there was any letter, he'll give it to me. Dangra, you'll report to the office this afternoon with the bills of lading and the storage plans. Good day. Good day, monsieur Morel.
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It's a wonderful thing to be home again after three months at sea, to see the places you've grown up in as a boy and the streets full of people. I found my father in the little dark room where he lived on the Fourth Floor of a house in the Rue Du Nueye. Father, Edmond. Father, what is it you, Ewell? Father, what's wrong with you? No. No. My boy, my son. No. But I I didn't expect you in the joy and surprise of seeing you so suddenly. Father, listen to me. I'm to be captain at 20, a captain with CHF3,000 pay and a share in the profits. Isn't that more than I could have hoped for? Yes. Yes, dear boy.
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Much more than we could have expected. Smart young dog, sir. Hey, Dan.
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In the doorway stood our neighbor, the tailor, Catterouse.
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Captain, hey. May I know someone below the Church Of Saint Michel who won't be sorry to hear about this. Hey, Dante?
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Mercedes. That's who he means, father. And now that I know your will, your consent, I'll go to her. Go, dear boy. And heaven bless you in a wife as it it blessed me. In a wife? How fast you go, father Dante. She isn't his wife yet as far as I know. She soon will be. Yes. Yes. But you were wise to return when you did, my boy. Oh, Catteras, what do you mean by that? Oh, I don't mean anything in particular.
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Mercedes, a very fine girl, and fine girls never like suitors. There's one in particular, a cousin of hers, I think he is, Fenner Mondego. I've even heard his What's that? Oh, don't worry, my boy. Now that you're captain, who could refuse you? Say that if I were not a captain I didn't say that. My boy, I didn't say that. No offense, ma'am. My boy, no offense.
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I went into the street down past the Church Of Saint Michel into the Fisherman's Quarter. Mercedes. Mercedes.
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Edmund, you're back.
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We were in each other's arms. The burning sun of Marseille covered us with a flood of light. At first, I saw nothing but her face raised to mine. The shining eyes, the the eager lips. Then suddenly in the room behind us, I saw the face of a young man, pale and threatening, and I saw that he had his hand on a knife at his belt. Mercedes,
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who is this man?
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Mercedes, I did not expect to meet an enemy here in your house. Who is no enemy? This is my cousin. We've been friends since childhood.
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Fernand is the man whom, after you, Edmond, I love best in the
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world. Well, give me your hand, Fernand. Is your name Edmond Dantes? Fernand Mondego came forward. For an instant, I saw a look of deadly hatred in his eyes. Then quickly, without giving his hand, he went past us and out into the street. Betrothal feast is a gay affair in the South. Monsieur Morell removed every difficulty. The papers were soon drawn up. The arrangements were simple. Mercedes had no fortune. Who among the persons here are sample answers in the name of Edmund Dantes? I'm Edmund Dantes. What do you want of me? Edmund Dantes in the name of the law, I arrest you. Arrest me? To be duly acquainted with the reason for your arrest at your first examination. Officer, sir. Officer, he is quite smart. He's done nothing wrong. He's a good boy. But, mister, Edmund possible. In
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Come in. Sir,
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the thief walked. Here is the prisoner. Bring him in. Wait outside. Yes, sir.
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What is your name?
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Are you the king's prosecutor, sir? Yes.
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Yes. Your name?
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My name is Edmond Dantes.
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You have all the information in your power. Have you served under the usurper Napoleon?
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No, sir.
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It is reported that your political opinions are extreme. My political opinions?
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Alas, I never had any opinions.
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I'm hardly 19, sir. What do you make of this then? It is a letter Monsieur Dantes will read it.
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Monsieur, the king's prosecutor is hereby informed by a friend of the throne and religion, but one Edmond Dantes, mate of the ship, Pharaoh, arrived this morning from Smyrna, and having touched at Naples and the island Of Elba, he's been entrusted by the usurper with a letter for the Bonapartist Committee in Paris. Proof of this crime will be found on arresting him, but the letter will be found on his person, his father's, or in his cabin on board the fellow. I'm
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sorry, sir. I don't understand it. Do you know the right No, sir. Whoever did it might as well. Now, have you any enemies? Not that I know of, sir. Now answer me frankly. Not as a prisoner to a judge, but as one man to another.
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Is there any truth in this accusation? Not at all, sir. I swear by my honor as a sailor. Then I told him my story. I told him how Captain Leclair on his deathbed had entrusted a packet to me and told me with his dying breath to deliver it to the Island Of Elba. What did you do then? What should I have done, monsieur? What every man would have done in my place, I sailed to the Island Of Elba. I delivered the packet and was given return a letter to be delivered to a man here in Marseille. Did it because it was what my captain had told me to do? I landed here yesterday. That is all, sir. I see.
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Well, that sounds like the truth. Now give up this letter you would have brought from Elba. Give us your word that you will appear if you're called and go back to your friends. I'm free then, sir? Yes. But first, give me this letter. Here you are, sir. Very well. By the way, to whom were you to deliver this letter?
[00:13:49] Unknown:
To Francois Duarte of the city. Francois Duarte? Yes, sir.
[00:13:54] Unknown:
Why do you know this man? A faithful servant of the king does not know conspirators. Have you shown this letter to anyone? To no one, sir. My honor. Nobody knows that you are the bearer of a letter from the Isle Of Elba addressed to Francois and White King. Nobody, sir, except the person who gave it to me. Why so?
[00:14:12] Unknown:
What's the matter?
[00:14:14] Unknown:
What's the matter, sir? You give me your word of honor that you are ignorant of the contents of this letter. Word of honor, sir, but what's the matter? You're ill, sir. Shall I call for help? No. Stay where you are. It is for me to give orders here, not you. I'm sorry. I am no longer able, as I had hoped, to restore you to liberty. Before doing so, there are formalities to be gone through. I'll try to make them as short as possible. The principal charge against you, as you know, is this letter, and you see what I do with it. You see,
[00:14:48] Unknown:
I destroy it. Oh, my dear de Viofo. Your
[00:14:53] Unknown:
goodness itself. Now then, do you trust me? Order me, sir, I'll obey. Listen, this is not an order, but vice that I give you. Yes, monsieur. I shall keep you until this evening here in the Palais De Justice. Yes, sir. Should anyone else question you, don't breathe a word of this letter. I promise. You see, the letter is destroyed. You and I alone know of its existence. So if they question you about it, deny all knowledge of it. I will, sir. It was the only letter you had. It was. Where it
[00:15:28] Unknown:
I swear. Did you ring, monsieur? A guard entered. Villefort whispered something in his ear to which he replied by a motion of his head. Follow this man, Monsieur Dantes.
[00:15:39] Unknown:
He has his orders.
[00:15:57] Unknown:
I was taken to a cell. Presently, it grew dark. Hours later, I heard steps coming along a corridor. By the torches they carried, I saw the glittering sabers and carbines of four gendarmes. Edmund Dantes. Have you come to fetch me? Yes. By the orders of the king's prosecutor? I believe so. Come with us. Is this carriage for me? It is for
[00:16:35] Unknown:
you. Get in.
[00:16:56] Unknown:
Get on board.
[00:17:03] Unknown:
He was
[00:17:06] Unknown:
there.
[00:17:10] Unknown:
He sat in the stern sheets with a guard on each side of me in the little boat.
[00:17:19] Unknown:
There there. King's business. Lower the chain.
[00:17:31] Unknown:
The chain that closes the mouth of a port at night lowered. Soon we were outside the harbor. My first feeling was one of joy at breathing the fine sea air again, then of sadness as I saw the light of La Reserve away to the left of me and heard the sound of voices and music coming through the open windows. Now we had passed the Tete D'Noire. We were in front of the lighthouse. We were about to double the battery. Where are you taking me? He also don't know. But I want to know We are forbidden to give you any information. Now we'd left the iron off to know where the lighthouses stood, and we were going past the Fisherman's Quarter.
A few lights were visible from the water. If I cried out, perhaps Mercedes might hear me. I remained silent. My eyes fixed on the lights. The boat went on, and presently, a rising ground hid the lights. Then I saw that we were out to sea. Comrades, beloved, god, tell me where we're going. You're a native of Marseille and the sailor, yet you don't know where you're going. I have no idea. Unless you're blind or have never been outside the harbor, you must No. Look around you. And suddenly within a hundred yards of me tonight, I saw a dark frowning rock with a tower on it, like a great black scaffold.
The Chateau D'If. Quite right, my friend. The Chateau D'If. Help.
[00:19:20] Unknown:
Help. Let me go. Help. Help. Help. Come in a sec. I'm innocent. I'm innocent. I'm innocent.
[00:19:39] Unknown:
Dantes.
[00:19:43] Unknown:
Dantes, haven't you slept?
[00:19:46] Unknown:
I don't know. Are you hungry? I don't know.
[00:19:49] Unknown:
Do you want anything? I wanna see the governor. The governor. I wanna see the I'm innocent. I'm innocent. Five minutes of oh,
[00:20:09] Unknown:
Another day. Another eternity. I threw out my food under the floor. I walked around and found the narrow cell like a wild beast in its cage. I tore up the straw of my mattress. Santos.
[00:20:24] Unknown:
Well, are you reasonable today? I wanna see the I've told you that's impossible. Why is it impossible? It's not allowed. I want to see the governor. Take my advice, my friend. Don't brood over what's impossible. Pull it out of your head. You think so? We had an instance of it here in this cell, a priest who was here before you. He kept offering the governor a million francs for his freedom. In the end, he went out of his head. When was he in his cell? Two years ago. Was he set free? No. He was put in a dungeon. Listen to me.
[00:20:53] Unknown:
I wanna see the governor. If you don't let me see the governor some day, I'll hide behind the door. And when you come in, I'll dash your brains out with a stool. That's a
[00:21:04] Unknown:
hey. Put that stool up. Are you gonna let me see the governor? Put it down. Put that stool down. Put it down. Well, do I I see the governor? Yes. Yes. Yes. You shall see the governor at once. That's
[00:21:14] Unknown:
better. It's better. Hurry. Hurry. Present at the jailer return with four soldiers.
[00:21:29] Unknown:
By the governor's orders, take the prisoner to the provolone. The dungeon men? That's right. We put madmen with madmen. You don't understand it.
[00:21:37] Unknown:
I tell you I'm innocent. I'm minister David.
[00:21:58] Unknown:
Months went by underground foul, humid, and dark. Every day, twice a day, morning and evening, the jailer came to my cell and put down the vile food and went away without speaking to me. My hair and nails had grown long and my skin was white as a leopard. I've been proud the first months. Now I began to beg. I begged to be moved from this dungeon to another. I begged to be allowed to walk about. I begged for books. Nothing was granted. I spoke to the jailer when he brought me my food. He rarely answered me. But to speak to a man, even though mute, was something.
I tried to speak when alone, but the sound of my own voice terrified me. After what must have been three or four years, the governor of the Chateau D'If was transferred. The new man never troubled to learn my name. I was no longer Edmondantis. I was number 34. I took to praying, but not as men pray in prosperity. In my prayers, I laid out every action of my life before the almighty. Still, I remained a prisoner. Then a deep gloom took possession of me, and then furious rage and savage thoughts of revenge. And while I, I dashed myself against the walls of my prison, I tore it my own flesh with my nails. And then in the end in the end, I began to think of dying. I swore that I would starve myself to death. So every morning and every evening, I threw out through the small grated window all the food the jailer brought me, every bit of it. At first, gaily and then thoughtfully and then with regret.
I held the plate in my hand for an hour at a time, gazing at the morsel of bad meat, of tainted fish, of black and moldy bread. Then I remembered my old son threw the dish away. One day, I found I had not sufficient force to throw my supper out of the window. The next morning, I could hardly see or hear. I knew I was dying. The day went by. I felt a sort of stupor creeping over me. The gnawing pain at my stomach had ceased. My thirst had abated. When I closed my eyes, I saw myriads of lights dancing before them. I was on the edge of that mysterious country called death.
Suddenly, a little after dark, I heard a hollow sound in the wall against which I was lying. I sat up and listened. It was a continual scratching as if made by a huge claw, some iron instrument scraping against the stones.
[00:24:59] Unknown:
Then all was silent.
[00:25:04] Unknown:
Soon afterwards, it began again, nearer and more distinct. Perhaps it was only a workman repairing a neighboring dungeon. I would soon find out. The sound continued. With Southernwear Jug, I knocked against the wall where the sound came.
[00:25:43] Unknown:
Then the
[00:25:57] Unknown:
sound stopped. The night passed in complete silence. I never closed my eyes. Three days passed. Three long days and never a sound. At last, on the
[00:26:16] Unknown:
fourth evening,
[00:26:17] Unknown:
whoever it was was quite close to me now. I wanted desperately to help him, but I had nothing. No knife or or sharp instrument. I smashed my other more jug. That night, I moved my bed out from the wall and started to scrape the plaster with a piece from my broken jug. Soon when the fragments of plaster began to fall away. In three days, I uncovered a large stone. The next day about noon, the stone began to move. Oh, my god. My god. I don't feel me now. My god.
[00:26:51] Unknown:
The talks of god in this place.
[00:26:57] Unknown:
Speak again.
[00:27:01] Unknown:
In the name of heaven,
[00:27:04] Unknown:
speak. Who are you? A prisoner.
[00:27:13] Unknown:
Of what country? A Frenchman. Your name? Edmond Dantes. How long have you been here? Since the February 1815. Your crime? I am
[00:27:36] Unknown:
innocent. And you?
[00:27:38] Unknown:
Who are you? I am number 27. How long have you been here? Since 2200. Twenty years.
[00:27:51] Unknown:
All that must be worked. Then just before dawn, a portion of the floor in my cell gave way. And from the bottom of this passage, the depth of which it was impossible to measure appeared the head, the shoulders, and lastly, the body of a man. To this man, I owe all that I possess, all that I know, know, all that I have become. In the prison, he was known as the mad priest. I never learned his name. For eight years, we saw each other every day using the tunnel he had dug through the solid rock, concealing the mouth of the passage with stones carefully fitted in place. By the sundial he had traced on the wall of his cell, we knew the hours of the god's visit. The rest of the day we were together. He had been a great rest of the day, we were together. He had been a great scholar in his day, and all that he knew, he taught me with infinite, loving patience
[00:29:10] Unknown:
day after day, year after
[00:29:12] Unknown:
year. Then, one morning when I went down, I found him standing in the middle of his cell,
[00:29:23] Unknown:
pale as death. Quick, Dantes. Quick.
[00:29:27] Unknown:
Listen to what I have to say. What is it, father? Tell me. I beseech you. What's the matter? I am dying.
[00:29:34] Unknown:
Open to my bed. See, half my body is paralyzed already.
[00:29:42] Unknown:
Here, father.
[00:29:45] Unknown:
Thank you, my son. Now listen to me. All is over with me. This night or tomorrow, I shall be dead. But, father I know the illness. There is no hope, and I shall never leave this place now. Before I die, there's something I want to give you.
[00:30:06] Unknown:
In his hand, he held a morsel of paper tightly rolled together, a half burn paper on which were some lines of gothic character, placed with a peculiar kind of ink.
[00:30:15] Unknown:
This paper, my child, is my treasure. From this day forth, it belongs to you. Your treasure? Oh, yes. I know what's passing through your mind at this this moment. Even now, you, like all the others. But be assured, my child, I am not mad. This treasure exists. Read what it says.
[00:30:42] Unknown:
This which may amount a declutter,
[00:30:46] Unknown:
April 14.
[00:30:47] Unknown:
See. You see. I seem to put broken lines and unconnected words, but Yes.
[00:30:53] Unknown:
To you who read them for the first time. But to me, who have grown pale over them by many nights study, who have reconstructed every phrase, completed every thought. Have you ever heard of the great Spada treasure? I've heard sailors talk of it. Yes. Fourteen years. I worked for the house of Spada. That paper you have asked is what is left of the will of cardinal Spada murdered by Roderick Borgia. Now take this and put the two pieces together and read.
[00:31:33] Unknown:
The April 1498, being invited to dine by his holiness Alexander the sixth, and fearing for my life, I declared to my nephew Guido Spada, my sole heir, that I have buried in a place he knows, in the caves of the island of Monte Cristo. All I possess of ingots, gold, money, jewels, and diamonds, which treasure may amount to nearly 2,000,000 of Roman crowns, which you will find in the farthest angle of the island cave. And this treasure I bequeath and leave entire to him as my sole heir, Rodrigo Spada, ten million crowns. Yes.
[00:32:11] Unknown:
A hundred million francs of our money. Think of the good a man could do in the world with a hundred million francs. Yes. Now I am dying. With my dying breath, I leave this treasure to you.
[00:32:31] Unknown:
Pray god, you'd be more fortunate than I. But I have no right to it, sir.
[00:32:36] Unknown:
You are my son, Dantes. You are the child that God sent to console me in my captivity.
[00:33:03] Unknown:
Two days later, in fearful agony, he died. I closed his eyes and laid him out to rest as well as I could. That night, the governor of the prison came down to look at the body.
[00:33:21] Unknown:
Well, the madman's gone to look after his treasure.
[00:33:25] Unknown:
With all his millions, he hasn't enough to pay for a shroud. Is the unneeded?
[00:33:31] Unknown:
Yes, sir.
[00:33:32] Unknown:
Apply it to the soles of his feet. From where I stood in the secret passage, I could smell the sickening odor of burnt flesh. Dead alright. Poor devil. He was a priest. Get him the newest sack you can can At the time, shall we bury him, sir? The usual. When the cell was empty again, I went in on the bed at full length, and faintly lighted by the light of a single candle was visible a sack of coarse cloth. In it was stretched a long and stiffened form. I unlaced the sack, drew the corpse out, and carried it through the tunnel to my cell. I laid
[00:34:15] Unknown:
it on my bed, turned the head to the wall, and covered it with a sheet.
[00:34:19] Unknown:
For the last time, I kissed the ice cold brow. Then I went back to the dead man's cell. I could hear steps and the passage of the guards came down with a stretcher. Quickly, I laced up the sack around my body. I lay stiff hoping they would not hear the beating of my heart. Here we go. You take the head, and I'll take the feet.
[00:34:51] Unknown:
He's heavy enough for an old man. I say every year adds half a pound to the bone. Yeah. Forward, much. Half a pound. Steady
[00:35:05] Unknown:
while I open this door. Lord, it's cold up here. Yeah. Pleasant morning for a dip in the ocean. A bit chilly, I'd say. Have you got the weight? Here it is. Tie it on around your feet. Yeah, that's right. Tight. See if you could do it any tighter. Yeah, that's alright. That'll sink him. Right now. Are you ready? One, two Hey. Wait a minute. Get near to the edge. The last one was smashed on a rock. We got the blame for it, I said. Come on, nice. Pretty good now. Let's
[00:35:53] Unknown:
go. One,
[00:35:57] Unknown:
two,
[00:35:59] Unknown:
three.
[00:36:16] Unknown:
You are listening to the CBS presentation of Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre on the Air in Alexander Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo. The performance will continue in just a moment. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
[00:36:41] Unknown:
September eighteen thirty four, there arrived in Marseille a man of about 38 or 40 of a pallor that was almost livid. He gave the impression of a man who had been enclosed for a long time in a tomb. Soon after landing, he inquired for a man by the name of Dantes. And hearing that he'd been dead for the past fourteen years, he asked for a tailor called Caderousse. Have you guys bought Caderousse? I am. Let's go inside, my friend. I have to talk to you.
[00:37:19] Unknown:
Well,
[00:37:20] Unknown:
what is it? Mister Caderousse, in the year 1814 or '15, did you know a young sailor by the name of Dantes?
[00:37:27] Unknown:
Dantes? Yes. Why do you ask? Is he alive? No. He died in prison. Died,
[00:37:34] Unknown:
What did he die of? What do young strong men usually die of in prison? He died of sorrow and a broken heart. And before he died, he begged me to clear his name. He gave me the names that people here in Marseille would be his friends. There are three, he said, besides my father and the girl I was betrothed to. One of of them is Caderousse.
[00:37:55] Unknown:
He said that.
[00:37:56] Unknown:
The second is Dangla. Dangla. The third is Fenar Mondego. Mondego. You know these men?
[00:38:05] Unknown:
Know them. Where in heaven's name have you been, my friend? There isn't a man in France who doesn't know them. Dangar is a millionaire, has a banking house of his own. Baron Dangar, he calls himself now. A And Mondago's accountant, the cabinet minister, and an officer of the legion of honor with a house in Paris a block wide. I should tell you something about these two. Not that it'll do much good now that he's dead. Who? That young fellow you were talking about, Dante's. I have a good mind to tell you anyway. Do you know who sent Edmund Dante's to prison?
Well, I do. It was two men who were jealous of him. One for love and one for ambition.
[00:38:56] Unknown:
And do you know who they were?
[00:38:59] Unknown:
I'll tell you. Montego and Dan Glass.
[00:39:06] Unknown:
I thought they were his friends.
[00:39:08] Unknown:
That's what he thought. What did they do? They denounced him to the police as a traitor.
[00:39:15] Unknown:
And was he a traitor?
[00:39:17] Unknown:
No more than you were I. Which of the two denounced him? Both, monsieur. It was Dangar who wrote the letter and Mondego who put it in the post. When was this letter written? The grave is there. The night before the wedding How do you know? Were you there? I was at the next table. They thought I was too drunk to hear. I see. How about this girl that his was betrothed to? Mercedes. Yes.
[00:39:43] Unknown:
Yes. That's That's her name. What happened to her? Well,
[00:39:48] Unknown:
sir, that's a sad story. When Dante was arrested, she was nearly mad with grief. Pitiful, he was. Six months went by and there was no news of him. And every day there was her mother telling her he was dead and telling her to marry Mondego. She came to see old Dante's. Edmund is dead, he said to her. If he weren't, he would have returned to us. Then the old man died, and that left her quite alone. Still, she waited, and still no word from him. And in the end, after a year, she married Mondago. And now she's one of the greatest ladies in Paris.
[00:40:33] Unknown:
A Year. She waited a year. What did you say? Nothing. Nothing. You say Edmund Dantes' father died? Yes.
[00:40:47] Unknown:
Soon after, his son disappeared.
[00:40:50] Unknown:
What did did he die of? If you ask me, he died of starvation. Starvation? The doctor had another name for it, and I know better. He locked himself up in his womb and died of starvation.
[00:41:24] Unknown:
Later that day, the stranger appeared at the Palais De Justice and asked to see the prison records for the year 1815. He obtained permission to go through the case of a certain Edmund Dantes, imprisoned that year and subsequently reported as dead. He found everything arranged in due order, the denunciation, examination, and the magistrate's marginal notes. He read the examination and noted with surprise that the name of Francois Noirtier, to whom the fatal letter had been addressed, never once appeared in it. There was a notation in the margin which read as follows, Edmond Dantes, an inveterate criminal to be kept in complete solitary confinement and to be strictly watched and guarded.
It was signed. Below in another hand was written, prisoner killed while attempting to escape. That night, the stranger left Marseille going north. Wheel for Mondago. Dongla. View for Mondago, Dongla. Find out everything there is to know about them. Every move they've made. Every word they've said. Every line they've written. Yes, sir. Find out about their homes, their wives, their children, their friends. Yes, Find out where they got their power, how they made their money, whom they robbed, whom they cheated, whom they murdered. One day in November, Baron Danglars, head of the banking house of that that name, received a visit from a new client.
Monsieur LeBarondanglais.
[00:44:09] Unknown:
I have the honor of addressing the count of Monte Cristo. You have, sir. Have you been in Paris long, sir? Paris long, sir? Since this morning. I have a letter here, sir, from a firm of Thompson in French in Rome. A letter of credits in your name. Good. And I take it that beginning today, my checks will be duly honored by your house. In this letter, sir, there is one thing not quite clear. Indeed. According to this letter, the count of Monte Cristo is to have unlimited
[00:44:36] Unknown:
credit on our house. And what is there in that simple fact that requires explanation? Merely the term unlimited. Are
[00:44:45] Unknown:
you suggesting that Thompson and French are not looked upon as solvent bankers? Oh, no. No. It was not their solvency that I spoke of. I see. But the word unlimited in financial affairs is so extremely vague a term.
[00:44:57] Unknown:
To me, Baron, the word means exactly what it says.
[00:45:02] Unknown:
It means without limitation. I assure you, sir, that up to the amount of a million I beg your pardon. I said that should you be hard pressed, were you even to require a million
[00:45:14] Unknown:
francs? My dear sir. For a trifle like that, I assure you I should never have trouble to open an account. CHF1,000,000? Excuse my smiling when you speak of a sum that I'm in the habit of carrying in my pocketbook. I admit I am hardly If you would prefer not to handle this account, Baron I have letters similar to yours addressed to bearing of London and Rothschild of the city. We'd have no scruples in declining. I assure you I never No. No. No. No. You merely wish to be convinced that your stockholders ran no risk, nothing more. Very sound, Baron Tundler.
I understand they include some of the greatest names in France. Am I right? The Duke de Mondego?
[00:46:08] Unknown:
The Baron de Villefort? It is not generally known that these gentlemen
[00:46:12] Unknown:
Of course. Of course. Now we understand one another, I should like to draw tomorrow the sum, shall we say. CHF6,000,000, half gold, half notes. CHF6,000,000? As you say, sir. If I should require more, I should let you know. Oh, by the way, Baron d'Anglere, buy for me tomorrow 10,000 shares of Austrian Commonwealth. You have some information, sir, about this, sir? You will find, sir, that I never gamble except in certainties. Rarely has Paris been more intrigued than it was that winter by the mysterious Count de Montecristo. Of his title, nothing was known save that he derived it from a small, uninhabited island off the coast of Corsica.
[00:47:08] Unknown:
The source of his fortune was equally obscure,
[00:47:12] Unknown:
yet his wealth seemed inexhaustible. The paintings in his house and the Champs Elysees were valued at CHF3,000,000 and it was known that for his carriage wheels alone, he had paid CHF1,000,000, yet far from diminishing. By the December, successful speculation had increased his deposit at Dangla's bank from 4 to nearly CHF6,000,000. The December, a bore was given by the count and countess Dimondego.
[00:48:07] Unknown:
Mercedes, may I present the most talked of man in Paris, the Count of Monte Cristo, Canister of Montego. I am deeply honored. What is it, Mercedes? What is it? Are you ill? It's nothing, Fernand.
[00:48:22] Unknown:
Perhaps the healer's room. It was kind of you to come, sir. Will you give me your arm, count de Monte Cristo?
[00:48:30] Unknown:
I am on it, madame.
[00:48:36] Unknown:
Is it it true, Count, what everyone is saying about you in Paris that you've seen so much, traveled so far, and suffered so deeply?
[00:48:46] Unknown:
I have suffered deeply, madame.
[00:48:49] Unknown:
Now you are happy?
[00:48:50] Unknown:
No doubt since no one hears me complain.
[00:48:53] Unknown:
Your present happiness, has it softened your heart?
[00:48:57] Unknown:
My present happiness does not equal my past misery.
[00:49:02] Unknown:
Are you not married? I
[00:49:04] Unknown:
married. No, madame.
[00:49:08] Unknown:
You are alone then. I am. You have no sister, no father. I have none. How do you exist thus without anyone to hold you to life? Madam,
[00:49:19] Unknown:
long ago, I loved loved a girl. It was on the point of marrying her madam when we were separated. I thought she loved me well enough to wait for me, and even to remain faithful to my grave. When I returned, she was married. Perhaps my heart was weaker than that of most, and I suffered more than they would've in my place. It's all, madame.
[00:49:48] Unknown:
And you are still you've still this love in your heart. It is true one can love only once. Did you ever see her again?
[00:49:57] Unknown:
Never.
[00:49:58] Unknown:
And you have forgiven her for all she has made you suffer?
[00:50:02] Unknown:
Yes. I have forgiven her.
[00:50:07] Unknown:
But only her? Do you still hate those who separated you? Do you still want to punish them?
[00:50:14] Unknown:
They will be punished, madame. But it is not I who will punish them. It is their own past.
[00:50:46] Unknown:
Danglars, Peter Ford, Juan Diego.
[00:50:49] Unknown:
What have you found out about these men?
[00:50:52] Unknown:
Danglars. Danglars, native of Marseille. Banker, Three times bankrupt. Convicted of using cherished funds. Yeah. Recently suspected of plunging heavily with borrowed funds.
[00:51:03] Unknown:
Villefort. Villefort,
[00:51:05] Unknown:
native of Marseille. Formerly King's agent of that city where he acted as bona fide spy under the name of Francois Ouachier. Ouachier. Known to accept bribes. At present, prosecutor general at King's Court said to speculate heavily with Langlois Bank. Mondago. Mondago native of Marseille, dismissed from naval service for theft. Pride for murder, 1816. Deserted French army, eighteen twenty four. Eighteen twenty eight, betrayed Ali Pasha to Turks for 2,000,000 piastres. Believed involved heavy losses down last bank.
[00:51:47] Unknown:
Mister Danglars, he's in the private office,
[00:51:55] Unknown:
Baron de Villefort. Good morning, Villefort. Hello, Montego. You're late, Villefort. What is Danglars? You sent for me in court. I hope it's something good this time we need it. Just arrived. A private message to the Count of Monte Cristo from Thompson and French Rome.
[00:52:07] Unknown:
They've never been wrong yet. If you know you intercept this message as Dunbar, who cares? What does it say? Read it. Secret treaty signed tonight. Anglo Italian due sharp rise.
[00:52:18] Unknown:
Buy all available shares, Thompson and French. Well, we are going to buy. Dangla, I'm worried. Everything you've touched has gone wrong lately. Those Belgian bonds, we lost half a million on them. Whose fault was that? On whose information? Can I have Dangla if the government takes its mind? Gentlemen, gentlemen.
[00:52:35] Unknown:
Our situation is desperate. We've got to plunge. Things have been going badly lately. We have no choice. If it weren't for Monte Cristo's deposits, we'd been bankrupt three weeks ago. If that money should be called today or
[00:52:47] Unknown:
tomorrow or the next day, this bank is ruined. Dangla, I don't see what that has to do with us. Oh, you don't, don't you? If I go, you go. Make no mistake about that. Gentlemen. What do you propose to do about it, Dangla?
[00:52:59] Unknown:
It's our only chance to get out. I propose to buy every share of Anglo Italian that comes into this market. With what? You forget, gentlemen. The count of Monte Cristo has CHF6,000,000
[00:53:11] Unknown:
deposited in this bank. And what about this message? Does Monte Cristo get to see it? This message, gentlemen,
[00:53:18] Unknown:
was lost in transmission.
[00:53:27] Unknown:
300 shares, 130. 1 hundred and 20 5. 3 hundred shares at 150.
[00:53:50] Unknown:
1 hundred and 60. 1 hundred and 70 5. 12
[00:53:53] Unknown:
60 2 thousand shares. How much profit does that show? So far, 3 quarters of a million. And it's only a beginning. Who was selling? I don't know. I couldn't find out. Come in. Well, well, what is it? The Count of Monte Cristo to see you, sir. Tell him I'm not Good afternoon
[00:54:07] Unknown:
and gentlemen. I hope I don't intrude. Dangla? De Villefort? Mondago? How fortunate. Gentlemen, I'm here to say goodbye. Goodbye? I have decided to leave Paris for a while, perhaps forever. Before I go, there are certain things I have left to do. Monsieur Dangla, I am in need of money for my journey. My credit on your books as of tonight is CHF6,000,000, less about a million to cover certain stocks I sold short today. Here is a check for CHF5,000,000 made out of cash. Cash. My carriage is outside. I'll take half in notes, half in gold. But surely I beg your pardon? Surely, sir, such a very large sum.
[00:55:06] Unknown:
If you could conveniently wait for this money for 24 or for the most, 48
[00:55:12] Unknown:
I told you. Baron Dangre, I'm leaving Paris tonight. Oh, by the way, Baron, you may be interested to learn. Less than an hour ago, Anglo Italian went into liquidation. At this moment, that stock is worth less than the paper on which it's printed. But the message from Thompson and French That message was sent on my instructions three days ago. You see, gentlemen, I own Thompson and That is not true that the treaty As far as I know, Mondago, there never was any question of a treaty. But it means that you three gentlemen are ruined. It means that you, Dangla, have robbed the poor and the helpless for the last time. I'll prosecute you for this. I'll just do a warrant for your arrest. I don't think you will, Baron de Beaufort.
In the first place, that message was addressed to me. In the second place, since noon today, there has been in the hands of the minister of justice a complete record of the career of Francois Duarte, Baron de Villefort, spy, thief, forcher, informer, torturer. Who am I?
[00:56:26] Unknown:
Still, you do not know?
[00:56:32] Unknown:
I know you very well, Fernand Mondego. And tomorrow, all Paris will know you for what you are, deserter, traitor, murderer. Who are you? What have we done to you? You condemned me to a slow, horrible death. You killed my father. You deprived me of love, of freedom, of happiness. Not in god's name who I I am the specter of a wretch you buried in the dungeons of the Chateau D'If. You guess it now, do you not? Or rather, you remember it. For notwithstanding all my sorrows and my tortures, I show you now a face which has the happiness of revenge and which is young again.
A face you must often have seen in your dreams since your marriage, Mondego, with Mercedes, my betrothed. Yes, Mondego. I am Edmond Dante's.
[00:57:59] Unknown:
Tonight, the Columbia Broadcasting System through its affiliated stations coast to coast and the network of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation has brought you a performance of Alexander Dumas' great adventure story, The Count of Monte Cristo, as dramatized in the first person singular by Orson Welles and played by the Mercury Theatre on the Air. In the cast this evening, Ray Collins as the Abbey Faria, George Caloris as Monsieur Morel, Edgar Barrier as DeVillefort, Eustace Wyatt as Caderousse, Paul Stewart as Old Dantes, Sydney Smith as Fernand Mondego, Richard Wilson as the officer, William Allen as a merchant, Anna Stafford as Mercedes, and Orson Welles as Edmund Dante's The Count of Monte Cristo.
The orchestra was directed by Alexander Semler, and Davidson Taylor supervised the production for CBS. Dan Seymour speaking. Next week at the same time, another great narrative brought to life by Orson Wells and the Mercury Theatre on the air. The man who Thursday by GK Chesterton. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
[00:59:36] Unknown:
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Introduction to The Mercury Theater on the Air
Orson Welles Introduces Alexandre Dumas
The Voyage of Edmond Dantes
The Arrest of Edmond Dantes
Interrogation and Imprisonment
The Chateau D'If
The Mysterious Sound
The Mad Priest and the Treasure
The Return of Edmond Dantes
Uncovering the Past
The Count of Monte Cristo's Revenge
The Revelation of Edmond Dantes
