Gaston Leroux’s 1910 novel, The Phantom of the Opera, follows a series of mysterious events that took place at the Paris Opera House in the 1880s and were popularly attributed to the actions of a ghost. As the narrator investigates occurrences such as the death of chief stage machinist Joseph Buquet and the musical transformation of young Swedish soprano Christine Daaé, he uncovers a surprising truth: these strange events do derive from the actions of a mysterious being known as the “Phantom,” but this person is a human being named Erik, not an immaterial ghost. While the novel concludes that the bizarre occurrences at the Opera can be explained rationally—as they are the result of Erik’s tricks—it also becomes clear that Erik is no ordinary human being. Instead, Erik is characterized by extraordinary singing abilities and a corpse-like, monstrous appearance. Therefore, although the novel embraces logical analysis, it does not completely renounce the supernatural: seemingly unexplainable events are ultimately explained rationally as the consequences of Erik’s actions, yet Erik’s very existence requires accepting his fantastical nature as a “living corpse.”
Although certain characters deny the existence of the Opera ghost, it soon becomes clear that the strange phenomena taking place at the Paris Opera House cannot be explained in ordinary ways. Following the narrator’s investigations, the reader is encouraged to believe in the existence of a mysterious Phantom. The narrator insists that the events taking place at the Opera are highly unusual and should not be treated in a routine manner. The death of Joseph Buquet, the chief stage machinist, remains particularly mysterious; although the police concludes that Buquet hanged himself, committing “suicide under natural circumstances,” when people approach to release Buquet, they are unable to find the rope that he supposedly used. The narrator ironically notes that the disappearance of a hanged man’s rope can hardly be called “natural circumstances”—and, therefore, that the true circumstances surrounding Buquet’s death seem to defy logic and remain unexplained.
A second phenomenon, Swedish soprano Christine Daaé’s transformation from an unremarkable singer to an extraordinary performer, is also tinged with mystery. After the performance, her childhood friend Raoul de Chagny overhears her talking to a man, saying that she has given him her soul, and that she sings only for him. Once the door to the dressing-room opens, however, Raoul notices that Christine is alone. Christine later tells Raoul that she has been visited by “the Angel of Music,” who gives her private music lessons. These circumstances suggest that Christine might be interacting with an invisible, supernatural being, perhaps the same one who haunts the Opera. The literary environment in which Christine and Raoul grew up in Brittany, France, provide context for Christine’s claims about the Angel of Music. As children, the two friends spent most of their time learning about Breton legends. The story of Little Lotte, who is visited every night by the Angel of Music, remains so deeply impressed in Christine’s mind that she later argues “that all great musicians, all great performers were visited by the Angel of Music at least once in their lives.” These fairytales give credibility to Christine’s seemingly implausible assertions about the “Angel of Music,” and encourage the reader to entertain the possibility of a supernatural explanation for the mysteries that punctuate the Opera.
As the narrator’s investigation continues, the reader discovers that, although a figure known as the “Phantom” or “Angel of Music” does in fact exist, he is not a ghost but a human being capable of particularly ingenious tricks. The strange events taking place at the Opera might seem mysterious, but they can ultimately be explained rationally as the human “Phantom” Erik’s tricks. Both Christine and a mysterious opera-goer, the Persian, confirm to Raoul that the Opera Ghost is nothing but a human being named Erik. Erik’s ability to move from one area of the building to another without being seen can be explained by an ingenious system of traps, which he has installed throughout the Opera. These traps and secret passageways allow Erik to move across floors and behind walls, invisible to others, as though he were an immaterial being. His talent for ventriloquism also allows him to pretend that his voice is everywhere at once, seemingly severed from a human body. Finally, it is his use of elaborate killing techniques (itself the legacy of Erik’s past life as an assassin) that allows him to kill Joseph Buquet with a special rope, making the man’s murder appear as suicide. As the novel goes on, the seemingly supernatural events begin to unravel, suggesting to readers that logic reigns supreme after all.
However, despite the novel’s focus on rationality, certain aspects of Erik’s character remain elusive, seemingly beyond ordinary human capacity. Although the narrator insists that Erik existed “in flesh and blood,” Christine argues that “what [Erik] does, no other man could do; and what he knows is unknown to the living world.” This paradoxical characterization is central to the Phantom’s existence. Indeed, although readers discover that Erik is a human being, some of his characteristics are not purely human: he has a corpse-like appearance (his skull is covered in rotting flesh) and can sing more enchantingly than any other human being. It remains ambiguous whether Erik’s voice and body are truly super-human, or whether he simply suffers from a congenital deformity and has a particularly beautiful voice. The novel never makes this distinction explicit, allowing for Erik to be seen alternately as a human and as a quasi-celestial being. This mystery of Erik’s true nature gives the tale its fantastic quality. Although many events at the Opera are ultimately explained in terms of logic and rationality, the puzzle of Erik’s existence separates this tale from ordinary mystery novels, adding an element of the fantastic to a multilayered story of murder, kidnapping, and musical talent.
The Natural vs. the Supernatural ThemeTracker
The Natural vs. the Supernatural Quotes in The Phantom of the Opera
The Phantom of the Opera did exist. He was not, as was long believed, born out of the fertile imagination of the artists, the credulity of the directors, or the ludicrous fancy and overexcited brains of the young ladies of the corps de ballet, their mothers, the ushers, the cloakroom attendants and the concierge. Yes, he did exist in flesh and blood, although he assumed in every respect the appearance of a ghost – that is, of a shadow.
When he did not actually show himself, he signaled his presence or his passage with disastrous or comic occurrences for which he was more often than not blamed, so rife were the feelings of superstition. Had there been some accident, had one of the girls been the butt of a practical joke by a friend, or lost a powder-puff, the culprit must be the ghost, the Phantom of the Opera!
“He is extraordinarily thin and his black coat hangs loosely off his skeletal frame. His eyes are so deep-set that you cannot make out his pupils: all you can see are two big black holes, as in a skull. His skin is stretched over his bone structure like a drumhead, and is not white but an ugly yellow. His nose is almost non-existent when seen sideways; and this absence is a horrible thing to behold. As for his hair, it consists of no more than three or four long dark strands on his forehead and behind his ears.”
Some claimed that it was a mark of immeasurable pride; others spoke of her saint-like modesty. Yet, as a rule, artists are rarely so modest; in truth I am rather tempted to ascribe her actions to sheer dread. Yes, I believe that Christine Daaé was frightened by what had just happened to her, and was as taken aback by it as everybody else around her. […] To suggest that Christine was taken aback or even frightened by her triumph is in fact an understatement: having reread the letter, I would say that she was terrified. Yes, yes, terrified. “I am no longer myself when I sing,” she wrote.
The Angel was never seen but could be heard by those who were meant to hear. This often happened when you least expected it, when you were sad and down-hearted. Then your ears would suddenly hear celestial harmonies, a divine voice, which you would remember for ever. Those who had been visited by the Angel were stirred. They experienced a thrill unknown to other mortals and henceforth could not touch an instrument or open their mouths to sing without producing sounds that put all other musicians to shame. The people who knew nothing about the angelic visitation called them geniuses.
“As I would not let go of the cloak, the shadow turned round and beneath the hood I saw a terrifying skull, whose staring eyes burned with the fire of Hell. I thought I was face to face with Satan himself. It was like a vision from beyond the grave.”
To think that he had believed in her innocence, in her purity! That he had tried for a moment to explain everything by her naivety, her simplicity of mind and her extreme candour. The Spirit of Music! He knew him now! He saw him! Surely he was some minor singer at the Opera, some good-looking Lothario, some coxcomb all smiles and sweet talk. He felt ridiculous and pitiable. Ah, what a wretched, insignificant and foolish young man you are, Viscount de Chagny! he raged to himself. As for Christine, what a brazen, devilishly cunning creature!