#baron danglars

[blake-ritson-love]

The first little glimpse of Blake as Danglars in the upcoming series Count of Monte Cristo, as seen in this TV ad by the Italian channel Rai - shared by viks25s5 on Tiktok

[chateau-dilf]

Hits them with the birdification beam 💥

[vonlipvig]

he's got a list of names and theirs are in red underlined ❌❌❌

it's about time i sat down to doodle my versions of the characters from the count of monte cristo, so here's dantès and the three beloatheds lmao.

[frsalmon]

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THESE TWO PLZ????

[lullybaju]

Oh, Monte Cristo...

The french prince of Machiavelli

The pride and joy of Foucalt

The apple of Catholic's Church eye

The talented Ripley of 19th century

The master of narration

The king of metamorphosis

The romantic version of architecht archetype of mbti

The most controversial of them all

Alright. Focus.

Here we are in June and I'm proud - almost in tears - to say that I've finally  managed to finish The Count of Monte Cristo, one of my favorite books since childhood and the longest book I've ever read (!)

Although i enjoyed the experience of reading an over 1000 page book, I still think their final stretch wasn't that exciting. The last chapters were saved from boredom by the ko of the big four and the rising from the ashes of Benedetto. This corsican boy deserved to live in freedom and the knockout of Gerard de Villefort and Baron Danglars were those great epic revenges I was counting on and the epitome of violence I had been waiting for!

Despite the ease of reading that dynamic side, the most special moment of the final stretch was Dantés return to If as Monte Cristo. Ok, I'm very aware that I said the merciful version of the count drove the story right to the end, but the door stopper built a new turning point for us to enjoy and it was not a cheesy one this time.

Monte Cristo visit to If was a visit to his past and it radically changed his goals and his plans as it made him remember that his true wish was only not to get his memory taken away. Actually, his reflection carried something deeper than that: he could understand that his revenge succeed from the moment he managed to make people know and let people know about him and all the ordeal he went through - not just his traitors, but all those tourists who will carefully listen to the tour guide and wonder about what happened to prisoner number 34 and will talk about that history with many people. After all of that, he realized that memory is power and memory is justice.

Can you feel?

THERE'S LIFE IN MY EYES!

The Count of Monte Cristo will always be one of my favorite books because it gives me life. This novel will remain extraordinary for eternity because it has the power to give life to any reader.

Why?

This amazing novel keep us informed of many tragedies with many gossip about many (aristocratic) people while let us know about a very methodical vengeance that is being carried out by a man who is experiencing the extremes of human being, but, although he was facing such hell-heaven condition, he didn't feel satisfied by just living in peace with the paradise side benefits of that situation and decided to fulfill our fantasies of power by using his lucky to bring justice by promoting violence against social structures and institutions of oppression, such as the judiciary, the capital and the army, through the people who represent them.

In addition to that, the so-called man is superhumanly smart and focused on achieving his own personal goals, that is to say, as a rule, a role model for everybody living under capitalism and economic liberalism. Actually, a hero, but not any kind of hero: he isn't naive and break the rules without thinking twice to fuck his way to the top everytime he realizes this kind of cheating is social acceptable and the key to succeed, and he also goes through many mood swings to the point of bring his love to someone especial in a middle of some of his authoritarians states of mind.

Imperfectly human, the count seems to be a relief as he shows himself as a big guide of pros and cons of what even a hero is forced to do to have a decent life in times of great pressure.

Long life to the count of Monte Cristo.

Supporting text I used, but it's in portuguese

[pedanther]

The Calendar of Monte Cristo: Chapter 27

1815: Danglars leaves Marseille and becomes an accounts clerk in Spain.

1815: Marriage of Gaspard Caderousse and Madeleine Radelle.

1815: Fernand and Caderousse called up for military service.

16 June 1815: Battle of Ligny. Fernand goes over to the English. [H]

1815: Following the Second Restoration, Fernand returns to France as a sub-lieutenant.

c.February 1816: Fernand, now a lieutenant, begins courting Mercédès. [R]

c.August 1816: Marriage of Fernand and Mercédès. [R]

18??: Birth of Albert.

1821: Caderousse visits Danglars and Fernand to ask for help after his business fails.

1823: l’Expédition d’Espagne. Danglars makes the beginning of his fortune supplying the French army. Fernand ends the war as Comte de Morcerf, a colonel and an officer of the Legion of Honour. [H]

1821–1829: Greek War of Independence. Fernand enters the service of Ali Pasha. [H]

182?: Danglars marries his first wife.

182?: Danglars’s first wife dies.

182?: Danglars marries his second wife, the widow Madame de Nargonne.

182?: Danglars becomes a baron.

June 1829: Caderousse tells Abbé Busoni what became of Edmond’s friends. Abbé Busoni gives Caderousse a diamond. [R]

Caderousse's narrative doesn’t contain any explicit dates, which serves to obscure a chronologically interesting aspect of Fernand’s career. Caderousse states definitely that Fernand served in l’Expédition d’Espagne, including the capture of the Trocadero, and then went on to serve under Ali Pasha until his death – but Ali Pasha died in January 1822, before l’Expédition d’Espagne and the capture of the Trocadero in 1823.

There’s also something up with the fair that Caderousse mentions at the end of the chapter, that he’s planning to find a jeweller at. He’s presumably referring to the annual trade fair at Beaucaire, which was a big deal: reputedly, more trade was done at Beaucaire during the week of the fair than in Marseille in an entire year. The thing is, by my count (which will be substantiated in later chapters) this scene is taking place in early June, and the fair was held in the last week of July.

[ponds-of-ink]

Spooky AU Prelude/Interval: “A Brief Debate Over Metaphors”

Oh? A Spooky AU Monte Cristo thing on Tumblr?

Yes, it’s back again… kinda. Sorry for the unintended hiatus, but I think my brain just got stalled trying to write the next chapter and then I ditched it by mistake. Smh.

But, to make up for it, how’s about a little scene to fill in the gaps and serve as a recap?… Hopefully.

—

It was late into the night when most of the sailors hobbled down to the lower decks. The first mate, ever vigilant, remained on board to steer the ship and watch for any trouble. His eyes surveyed the empty world of wooden planks and tar-black sky before him. The only thing that broke this dismal view was the shadowy form of one of the younger members on-board. While the distance between them made it hard for the first mate to see who it was, the strange combination of a slumped-over posture yet somewhat-groomed hair told all. “What are you doing up here, Danglars?” the navigator cried out. “I thought you’d be down in the cellars double-checking the accountant’s assessments!”

The young man turned his head. “I would’ve, but the way the moon shines on this sea has beckoned me,” he answered, hardly raising his already salt-stricken voice. “I guess you could say the glimmer of diamonds can lure me in like a siren.” He shook his head as he smiled at his own joke.

“Well, don’t stay up here for too long,” the first mate advised, now readjusting to his own duty. “The fellows told me that there’ll be a fog rolling in an half-an-hour or so. And, since I’m sure our employer would not be pleased with one of his newest sailors’ faces being wrecked by a mast under my supervision, I’d say you may as well run to the lower decks for your own good. Maybe even tattle on those scallawags playing the Hornpipe down there, for all I care.”

Danglars gave a signal of affirmation, then returned to staring at the water below. As he stared, he almost became entranced with his reflection like Narcissus with his visage in the pool. But, instead of self-interested lust, his fixation seemed to be out of growing hatred. His scars, signs of storm-ridden voyages and many a close encounter with death itself, now felt like tears on an already-tarnished painting. Or, perhaps if one were to be more in line with his current thoughts, a painting as warped and battered as the waves’ current portrait of him. His legs quivered underneath him, threatening to give way to his bitter musings. He shut his eyes to block the image from his mind. 

Then, like a bird song breaking through the ominous silence of the night, a strange idea stopped his spiral. He lifted his head and looked out into the water. “Forgive me for risking the crew’s safety through bringing up superstitions,” he spoke up, masking his recovery from desperation with his most casual tone of voice, “but am I right in saying that there is no exact rules on who can be lured by a siren?”

Auguste blinked in surprise. “From what little I know, I’m sure any temptress like that would only care if the prey is nourished,” he answered, his eyes only glancing at the youth for a moment. “Why are you in such a curious mood, Danglars? Do you want to volunteer for live bait?”

“No, no!” Danglars hurriedly answered, realizing his unintended implications that this question posed. “I was just wondering if these scaly creatures had a preference for certain sailors— Aside from a high gullibility or an acute fondness for well-sung odes.”

“Not to my knowledge,” Auguste responded, tilting his head to the side as if to mimic shrugging one’s shoulders. Then, processing what he saw from the corner of his eye, he sighed gravelly. “Look here, Danglars,” he resumed in a more gentile but concerned manner. “If you’re trying to say that you have a better chance at being caught by a twisted creature of the deep than getting a lass on shore, then I think you’re selling yourself too short. A bruised apple will still be fine food for someone, even if it is bruised. You, of all my younger crew mates, should know that.”

“But if the apple, say, doesn’t even look like an apple?”

“If the insides are fine, then what does it matter?” Auguste huffed, gripping the ship’s wheel tightly out of sheer self-restraint. “So long as you make sure that the seed’s poison doesn’t spread to the rest, then all’s well! Honestly, how much of a self-critic do you have to be at your age? You’re nineteen going on twenty! I’m about fifteen years older than you, and I’d say I’m in rougher shape than you’ve ever been!” And, with those silvery-white streaks in his hair, he already had a right to say this.

Danglars stepped away from the edge of the vessel, politely nodding while withholding every single rebuttal he wished to lash out. “Fair enough, i suppose,” he said with a slight grit of his teeth. “But I still think that you’ve aged far more gracefully that I ever will, sir.”

“Well, by that time, you should be married!”

“We shall see if I will even be a suitor, sir. I cannot promise what I run the risk of failing to deliver.”

Auguste fought the urge to abandon his post and drag the doubter towards the rest of the crew. Instead, he lowered his reddened face and shut his eyes. “Let me echo your ‘fair enough’ and leave you be, then,” he groaned. “But I’m still calling your bluff, to put it bluntly, stupid.”

“As will I, sir,” Danglars retorted, bowing slightly out of what little respect he had for his superior at the moment. “Good night.”

—Many years later…—

Danglars now rummaged through these distant arguments as he stood before the window of this dingy Inn bedroom. Now about as old as Auguste himself (if not ahead of him by a few years), one would think that these pieces of an elder’s wisdom would’ve been confirmed through his own experiences.

Alas for him as well as those who think so, they did not. In fact, the opposite seemed to ring true. Even if the parts near the toxic seeds were as preserved as Auguste hoped, they still didn’t seem to matter. The bruised apple was still a bruised apple. Maybe not even an apple, at this rate.

However, Danglars had one last pithy statement that could serve as a counterpoint. “Gold still has value, no matter how old the coins are,” he muttered, as if he had finally found the answer to some lifelong riddle. “And jewels themselves, though cut down by knives— or whatever those gem-crafters use, are still cherished by those looking for them.” His eyes glistened as what lingering creative tendencies he had revived itself. “The apple metaphor was rubbish, but its application was close—!”

The creaking of the door cut off Danglars’ fevered ramblings. His slacked grin fell as soon as he saw a figure standing in the doorway. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said before using a coughing to hide the tinge of embarrassment on his face (for once). “I was reminiscing on the past a bit too much, I suspect. What can I do to help you, sir?”

The stranger, still encased in shadows, shut the door and advanced a few steps forwards. “I was wanting to commiserate on your… unfortunate situation,” he admitted, feigning an air of somber grief. “But I see now why she left you for someone else.”

Danglars shuddered, but remained as indignant as ever. “If you wish to insult me, don’t try aiming for my countenance,” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’ve been aware of its horrid state for decades. If you must wish to make light of it, then please be original.”

“I will do my best,” the stranger answered with a sneering tone. “At least the moon’s light aids me in seeing you a lot better. A shame no one else must’ve thought that.”

[rowan-e-ravenwood]

I couldn't decide between Edmond or Danglars, so I went with both! Hope you like them, as I'm not super happy with them, but I think they turned out okay! Thanks for the request, Pond! @ponds-of-ink

[aira-l]

Well, I'm into tcomc again

[justagayfish]

Finally! I’m done! Art for @secret-fanfic-notebook ‘s Reunion fanfic! (it’s really good pls read it!! They make really good fics 👀 )

[blake-ritson-love]

Blake Ritson is cast in an upcoming 8-part adaptation series of Count of Monte Cristo as Danglars, one of the main antagonists. The series is currently in production and will air in 2024. Sam Claflin will be playing the main role of Edmond Dantès, and the internationally produced series is directed by Bille August.

Blake is also likely to appear (not fully confirmed yet) in season 2 of Interview with the Vampire as Morgan next year.

16 days to go till the premiere of season 2 (October 29) of The Gilded Age on HBO, starring Blake as Oscar Van Rhijn.

[chateau-dilf]

Some more bird au sketches based on photos for the 2024 film + a concept for a masked Edmond based on no bird in particular to lean into the idea from the book that other characters struggle to identify where he's from.

[monte-cristo-incorrect-quotes]

Danglars (derogatory)

[fictive-gerard-de-villefort]

Danglars: I regret learning how to use my left hand. Now I can't remember how to hold a knife with my right hand AND I'm bad at using a knife with my left hand.

[gmyoungwrites]

Rereading The Count of Monte Cristo and Danglars is TWENTY SIX when he writes the denounciation against Dantés. But being almost twenty six myself, I too find myself froathing with the urge to destroy my enemies.

[lullybaju]

Here we are in May (almost June) and the reading got boring as hell.

Alright, I may be kinda tired of keeping reading such a very long novel, but its final stretch is working so… slow. I mean, Monte Cristo's revenge was cut in so many parts that it seems that his cruel and perfectly calculated acts didn't reach a peak, a climax, but just special moments.

The story already came to an end for me and that happened when vengeful Monte Cristo died to resurrect as merciful Monte Cristo, right after Caderousse's death. I know it’s kinda paradoxical, but since that happened, he became such a traditional caricature of a character of romantic era novels, acting like he was a fantastic superhero by solving things out of the possible or practical work logic. Dumas, Maquet and co were doing so great when it comes to putting that work logic in a romantic character acts, but now Monte Cristo is almost a magician, offering tea to cure Valentine while he’s staying in secrecy in Villefort house. All I ask is: why did you do that, Dumas, Maquet and co? You broke our paladin of justice!

Apart from that, I don't know what to feel about the end of the Morcerf family. Mercedes was always pretty meh, so I wasn't surprised at all by the ending of her pure heroine plot, but the same didn't happen when it came to Fernand, even though I knew he was that main villain driven by romantic passion in a romantic era novel. I mean, I expected him to have more interaction with Monte Cristo. I expected him to know Monte Cristo was Dantés. I expected him to throw all his rage upon Monte Cristo. Well, I expected him to fight for his life as every villain, and not to outsource that dirty work for his son.

By the way, so proud of Albert! He finally grew up - in the worst scenario and in the hardest way possible, unfortunately - but he will live.

On the other core of the big four, in another hell condition, another young person was forced to grow up: applause to the virtuous Eugenie Danglars! This diva has not only grown up, but has also been planting curiosity about her sexuality in every Count of Monte Cristo reader for almost 200 years, since she's a free soul and chose to live by means of feeling where and who her art could reach and touch. Run to your life and keep slaying, girl!

By the way, speaking of Eugenie, I can't go away without mentioning Andrea Cavalcantti/Benedetto. Yes, all my hopes vanished since he was run over by Monte Cristo's revenge and completely lost the secondary protagonism for Albert and his level-headed coming of age ending. But, faced with all of those aristocratic savvy finish plots, he was such a bad bitch for choosing life - and in front of the daughter of a baron - because he wanted to... live! Unfortunately, he came from nowhere to nothing, but what a peak of cleverness! What an edge of prickness! Benedetto, you'll always be interesting.