The opera-house in Paris built by Garnier (as I thought then... now, since I recognised the truth, I'm wondering how I ever could have thought of him as the true architect as I know of the one and only great builder in this world) was the most beautiful work of art I have ever seen in my whole lifetime.
I will never stop admiring those monolithic shafts made of Raviere-limestone as the columns of the main-facade growing high up into the sky, the sixteen columns made of red jura-rocks and the twelve ones of rosy granite, the thirty columns made of sarrancolin-marble and the fabulous arches of the cupolas from the auditoriums.
It was the creation of an amazing creative spirit, and in the beginning I thought that only a beautiful, perfect character could design a beautiful building like that. This was the time when I did not think of Erik yet...
But already with the first look something deep down in my mind made me recognise that there was not only beauty and perfection hidden in every single part of this opera-house. No, it was something gloomier, something more dangerous that followed one with each step in this gorgeous building. As if an invisible pair of eyes was trailing your moves, your words and even your thoughts - yes, even them!
Anyway - it completely slipped my mind when I got introduced to the whole opera. I did not only work as a ballet-mistress, I was responsible for the boxes to be closed, too. (And this, my dear Meg, was somehow the key that opened me the doors to the real subterranean of this building from which there will never be any escape - not even in death...)
I got to know both directors, Monsieur Poligny and Monsieur Débienne, the whole orchestra, the ensemble and the company, the corps du ballet, the prima donna La Carlotta and all the other people working at the opera-house. And also Monsieur Jean-Louis Charles Garnier, this modest, friendly man in whose eyes I could quickly recognise hopeless exhaustion after endless years of hard work on this wonderful building.
I often asked myself why he regarded his work with this strange kind of awe and unreserved pride. He should have been the proudest man in the world having been able to create such a work of art without its kind, a creation of brilliance and glitter, glory and glamour, abundance and splendour. I have never known anything more eternal with this special way of perfection, and I was not able to find any reasons why Monsieur Garnier should have not been proud of his opera-house.
One day, not even a week before the night of the prèmiere, I decided to ask him in passing in a convenient moment why he always reacted in some kind of reserve when someone congratulated him to this very well turned out building. At the first moment he did not say a word, just looked at me lost in thoughts as if he had not heard my question.
"Ma chère Madame", he finally said. "I'm not a man with further ado. Many of these well-wishers are hypocritical envious persons who begrudge me this success. I don't want to be as hypocritical as them and thank them for their insincered congratulations."
I nodded but I did not believe him. "Monsieur, I've heard of your youth at the Rue Mouffetard and the hard work that brought you the respect you deserved. But I don't think that this is the reason of your restrict behaviour... Please forgive my rudeness but this is what I'm thinking." I knew that my words were not the words of a lady but I felt this strange baneful feeling again - the same I felt when I took this job here.
He laughed, but it was certainly not a happy laughter. "Madame, I respect your honesty but please understand that these reasons are too private... I beg you to accept this as I don't want to do anything less than to lie to you."
And this was the very moment when I made up my mind. "You might not believe my words, but everything that I'll tell you right now is the truth: Since I got to this opera-house I felt something restless, something gloomy deep down in my heart and I've tried very hard on suppressing this feeling. You know, I've had this same feeling before - it was at a gypsies' fair where I saw a vision that made me feel the same like the walls of this building do. It might sound curious and mad but I feel as if the spirit that built those walls is torn between creating something beautiful and between an impulse of destruction..."
Monsieur Garnier turned around and I could hear a deep sigh. As he turned back to me again his face was pale. "At a fair, you said, Madame?" His following gesture was full of compassion and helplessness. "Darker than the darkest subterranean of any human heart are the thoughts that created this temple of pomp."
Perhaps he thought I would not understand this oracular sentence but, my dear Meg, I understood very well. "Oh my God, I knew it... it's him!" Fragments of a terrible picture ran through my mind and made me tremble again after those many years.
"Him?" Monsieur Garnier looked at me in a knowing certainty.
"I've seen him only once in my life up to now, but I'll never be able to forget any second of this disastrous meeting, Monsieur. I beg you to tell me the truth..."
It was a strange moment. Something beyond any imagination made us bound up with each other, something unspeakable and incomprehensible. "Madame, he'd kill me if he'll find out," he said honestly but without any visible fear.
"I know, Monsieur. I can keep a secret - I've been already keeping it for many years."
He nodded slowly. "It's something I'll never be able to understand..." And then he started telling his story.
My sweetheart Meg, Jean-Louis Charles Garnier told me amazing details of his meeting with the former boy I knew, but he certainly got to know only those details that he - Erik - wanted him to get to know. But it was enough for the moment to satisfy my curiosity and to let my darkest fears come true. I never wanted to meet him again, and my everlasting fear of this becoming true always glimmered within myself.
I am sure you want to learn Monsieur Garnier's story, but do not be angry with me - as I said to him then: I can keep a secret. And this part of my story should stay in the dark forever more. Only this, my darling: There is always a thin line between genius and insanity...
It was January 5th in the year 1875 and it was the night of our première. Everybody was in a great hurry and everybody doubted that the première and even the opera-house would be appropriate for all our wealthy visitors - all the crème de la crème of Paris.
As I was responsible for the boxes I had a lot to do on this memorable evening, and when I met Monsieur Garnier only once on this day I wondered why he was that upset.
He told me that he would have to pay more than one hundred francs for two seats at box 2. "And this after all my efforts for this damned opera-house!" he said hatefully.
I was incredibly surprised. The man who was responsible for the existence of this unique work of art had to pay for the gala-performance! "What is your answer, Monsieur? Will you join the première?" I asked doubtfully.
All contrary to his obvious pride he nodded sighing deeply. "He advised me to come", he answered slowly.
I knew he meant Erik. "He's right, Monsieur, you know. Your own great work will avenge this impertinence", I told him.
All of a sudden he smiled. "These were his words, too, Madame."
The sympathy I felt for this known stranger in this moment could not deceive me about this uncertain danger I felt all the time when I thought of him. With a vague hunch I knew that behind the facade of this genius a very dangerous and unpredictable power was hidden. "Will he attend the performance this evening?" I asked noisy as I was.
"Madame, I don't know if I should tell you that much..." he hesistated. "I have respect for him and I appreciate his work, and I don't want to abuse his confidence. Not just because of my respect - oh no, dear Madame Giry, it's only a matter of fear." His unhappy smile suddenly showed this fear.
"I see, Monsieur Garnier. Don't tell me more than you - than he would like to. It's safer for our both future I guess." I smiled at him trying to cheer him up. "Well, I think I have to continue my work now... Enjoy the performance today!"
"Thank you, Madame, I wish you the same. Perhaps we'll meet later." He nodded friendly and moved along.
For the next hours I fully forgot our conversation as I was covered with work in view of the forthcoming prèmiere-night. All the programmes for our visitors had to be available in all the boxes, I controlled if everything was clean and perfect in there, and moreover I was responsible for all those excited ballet-girls like you were one, sweet Meg.
And then a very memorable evening on January 5th 1875 began. Never in my lifetime I have seen that many wealthy, well-dressed, good-looking people as at the première-night in the Paris opera-house. I asked myself where they got the huge sum of money from they had to pay for only one entrance ticket.
The whole evening was glamorous, glorious and full of fame and treasure. Not even our gorgeous opera-house shone brighter than the brightest stars in the sky, also all our visitors succeeded in impressing each other with their luxurious garment and their unimaginable huge jewellery. We heard Meyerbeer, Rossini and Delibes, and I was sure that our orchestra never played better and more sensational than at this evening.
I truly thought that it had to be the night that Garnier had been waiting for all of this lifetime, and - dear Meg - I was so right. For as he went down the stairs with his lovely wife at the end of the performance, all our visitors suddenly applauded tumultuously. It was his own true reward for what he had done for this unique opera-house.
Standing there in front of a box and hearing this wonderful, honest expression of approval I was one admirer who applauded more than all the others. I knew it was indeed hard work for Garnier - trying to build a symbol for luxury in-between the deprivation of the war years - but my applause was not only Garnier's one.
When I turned back to begin closing the boxes I suddenly wanted to have a closer look at one of them, to sit down there and to look down to the stage - just to understand why everybody was willing to pay immense sums for it. And it was indeed a great view down, even if the whole stage was empty and entirely quiet.
I sat there for some minutes, enjoying the silence of a very well past gala-performance, hearing the walls breathing freely after their acid test and the timber crunching released after the masses they had to bear.
Still the music in my ears I said to myself: "Oh dear, there'll never be such a wonderful opera-house in the entire world." I sighed proudly - proudly to work in here and to be able to call it 'our opera-house'.
As I suddenly heard a deep sigh behind me I thought my heart stood still. I opened my mouth but I was unable to scream, unable even to whisper. Finally, when I was able to move, I slowly turned around - but there was nobody there. I opened my eyes widely and could not believe them. I have heard someone sighing, I was sure! But nobody was behind me...
"Who... who is this?" I stumbled like a young frightened girl. I knew that nobody was at the opera-house now, no one that could have helped me - I was alone...
"I'm nobody, Madame." I heard this voice and unless there was a seat I would have fallen down on earth. The voice seemed to come from nowhere. So close, but inaccessible.
"Where are you at, Monsieur?" I was close to tears as I was incredibly frightened. Fear can turn adults into children again, my beloved Meg, into small, innocent children that are afraid of their own shadow.
The voice laughed and I wondered if it laughed at my fear. "Nowhere and everywhere, Madame."
Suddenly it hit me like a lightening. Oh dear, how could I forget? I asked myself. Silly me! "Is it you?" I asked carefully. "Are you Erik?"
As the voice did not answer I knew it was him - and I was relieved and frightened at the same time. "Monsieur, please answer!"
This silence was gloomier than the fear of his words.
"Why do you know?" he asked slowly. All of a sudden his voice sounded tired - and dangerous.
"I can't tell - but I've been knowing of your existence since I've started working here."
"Who are you, Madame? Just a ballet-mistress, aren't you? Why do you know then? Answer!" The piercing undertone of his voice suddenly made me cry.
"Please... please..." I stumbled but not knowing what I was begging for.
"It was Garnier, wasn't it? He told you. Poor man - I knew I shouldn't trust him..."
"No, no, no!" I screamed. "I knew it from the beginning! It wasn't his fault, believe me!" I was sure he would kill him if I would not tell everything. "You don't remember, I know, but I remember very well - it was at a fair, Monsieur..."
"Madame?" His voice lost everything of its danger and was only surprised at all.
"I was only seven, Monsieur, when I met you the very first time", I told him. I could nearly see how hard he searched through his memories. "I was a little girl, black hair, with a red dress." I was really surprised how good I could remember...
After some minutes of silence he raised his voice again. "Well, Madame, you'll understand that I cannot remember any of these sensation-seeking creatures", he said in a cutting voice. "And being in this cage I haven't had the feeling to look at them closer so that I'll remember them later on."
Oh dear, how could I dare to remind him of this inhuman treatment he was exposed in his childhood! Being closed up in a cage as a young, innocent boy... "Monsieur, I admire your opera-house! It's no doubt the most beautiful building I've ever seen!" I decided to change our topic.
"Yes, Madame, I've heard you before." I was very pleased to hear a soft smile in his voice. Pleased and happy. "But it wasn't only my work."
"Do you really think?" Oh, Meg, I knew that it was due to Garnier that this building has been able to be built, but it were Erik's ideas and his spirit that made a unique opera-house out of cold building-material. His thoughts that breathe life into all the columns and these stairs and the stage.
"How much did Monsieur Garnier tell you?"
I knew very well that he would see through all lies. "Enough, Monsieur, to understand that a genius is hidden in the opera's subterranean."
Suddenly he laughed. "And hidden behind disfigurement, Madame... believe me, it's better to hide this genius, as you call it, down in the subterranean."
"Why?" Dear Meg, I do not know if I was that naive then or just curious, but I asked this simple question on which I have not got any answer up to now. But now I do not need any answer as I already know them all...
"Madame, it'd be better if you go home now. I think your daughter is waiting for you."
He knew of you - and I did not want to know how much he already knew of us both.
"Monsieur..."
"No, Madame, not now, not today. I'm tired and I want to go. Just for one favour I'd like to ask you: Would it possible for you to care that there'll always be a programme in this box here?"
"Monsieur, there're always programmes for our visitors - in all boxes of the house", I answered confused.
"No, I mean, when this box won't be opened for visitors in future."
"Monsieur?" I did not understand at all.
"Just say if you'll put a programme in here - even if there won't be any visitors at this box." He really insisted on this strange favour.
"Of course, Monsieur, if you want to. It won't be any problem for me."
"Merci, Madame. And perhaps I'll have again some requests - but be sure that I'll always return the favour." Sudden silence.
"Monsieur?" I asked - but I did not get any answer. Then I knew he was gone, at least for this evening. Wondering what has happened to me within the last few minutes I got out of the box and then I looked at the number, just to be sure to remind it later. It was box number five.
The next few weeks passed quiet and with almost no incident worth mentioning. We had our regular performances, I did my job as ballet-mistress, I did not asked why box no. 5 suddenly was closed for normal visitors and I did not tell that I put a programme in this box too.
During these days I never met him again, but I also get to know these rumours that suddenly started circulating in the corps de ballet and expanded to the whole opera. A ghost should have been wandering around in the underground aisles, and only very few people were allowed to catch a short glance at the apparition.
First I laughed - with the satisfied feeling of knowing more and better. But as soon as you, my lovely Meg, started also telling fairy tales about this ghost - that was quickly called the 'Phantom of the Opera' - I got worried. Nobody, perhaps except Garnier and me, knew how dangerous your exciting phantom really was. And well, I only could guess about his real evil...
And when Erik started demanding for a very high fee - Meg, we are talking about 20.000 francs each month! - for his appearance as the Opera Ghost I was sure that he knew what he wanted and that he would use any possible means for achieving this success.
I wondered why director Poligny was willing to pay this without any complaints, but I thought he would have his reasons... and I did not ask. I never did - and perhaps that was the best thing I could do.
Very quickly I rose to a mediator between the directors and the Phantom of the Opera. Box no. 5 became a secret hiding place of our regular meetings where I received letters for the direction and handed the requested money and the latest programmes out. Sometimes I told him news which I have got to know recently, but most of the time he knew much more than I did.
And he kept his promise to return all favours - I was sure that he was responsible for your turning you into a solo-dancer in the corps de ballet, and I became even more obliged than before. He never forced me to these services, but I could not refused. I always wondered from where he talked to me at the box but I never asked. I always thought of you, sweet daughter, and what he could do for your career - and therefore I kept quiet.
It was January 5th in the year 1875 and it was the night of our première. Everybody was in a great hurry and everybody doubted that the première and even the opera-house would be appropriate for all our wealthy visitors - all the crème de la crème of Paris.
As I was responsible for the boxes I had a lot to do on this memorable evening, and when I met Monsieur Garnier only once on this day I wondered why he was that upset.
He told me that he would have to pay more than one hundred francs for two seats at box 2. "And this after all my efforts for this damned opera-house!" he said hatefully.
I was incredibly surprised. The man who was responsible for the existence of this unique work of art had to pay for the gala-performance! "What is your answer, Monsieur? Will you join the première?" I asked doubtfully.
All contrary to his obvious pride he nodded sighing deeply. "He advised me to come", he answered slowly.
I knew he meant Erik. "He's right, Monsieur, you know. Your own great work will avenge this impertinence", I told him.
All of a sudden he smiled. "These were his words, too, Madame."
The sympathy I felt for this known stranger in this moment could not deceive me about this uncertain danger I felt all the time when I thought of him. With a vague hunch I knew that behind the facade of this genius a very dangerous and unpredictable power was hidden. "Will he attend the performance this evening?" I asked noisy as I was.
"Madame, I don't know if I should tell you that much..." he hesistated. "I have respect for him and I appreciate his work, and I don't want to abuse his confidence. Not just because of my respect - oh no, dear Madame Giry, it's only a matter of fear." His unhappy smile suddenly showed this fear.
"I see, Monsieur Garnier. Don't tell me more than you - than he would like to. It's safer for our both future I guess." I smiled at him trying to cheer him up. "Well, I think I have to continue my work now... Enjoy the performance today!"
"Thank you, Madame, I wish you the same. Perhaps we'll meet later." He nodded friendly and moved along.
For the next hours I fully forgot our conversation as I was covered with work in view of the forthcoming prèmiere-night. All the programmes for our visitors had to be available in all the boxes, I controlled if everything was clean and perfect in there, and moreover I was responsible for all those excited ballet-girls like you were one, sweet Meg.
And then a very memorable evening on January 5th 1875 began. Never in my lifetime I have seen that many wealthy, well-dressed, good-looking people as at the première-night in the Paris opera-house. I asked myself where they got the huge sum of money from they had to pay for only one entrance ticket.
The whole evening was glamorous, glorious and full of fame and treasure. Not even our gorgeous opera-house shone brighter than the brightest stars in the sky, also all our visitors succeeded in impressing each other with their luxurious garment and their unimaginable huge jewellery. We heard Meyerbeer, Rossini and Delibes, and I was sure that our orchestra never played better and more sensational than at this evening.
I truly thought that it had to be the night that Garnier had been waiting for all of this lifetime, and - dear Meg - I was so right. For as he went down the stairs with his lovely wife at the end of the performance, all our visitors suddenly applauded tumultuously. It was his own true reward for what he had done for this unique opera-house.
Standing there in front of a box and hearing this wonderful, honest expression of approval I was one admirer who applauded more than all the others. I knew it was indeed hard work for Garnier - trying to build a symbol for luxury in-between the deprivation of the war years - but my applause was not only Garnier's one.
When I turned back to begin closing the boxes I suddenly wanted to have a closer look at one of them, to sit down there and to look down to the stage - just to understand why everybody was willing to pay immense sums for it. And it was indeed a great view down, even if the whole stage was empty and entirely quiet.
I sat there for some minutes, enjoying the silence of a very well past gala-performance, hearing the walls breathing freely after their acid test and the timber crunching released after the masses they had to bear.
Still the music in my ears I said to myself: "Oh dear, there'll never be such a wonderful opera-house in the entire world." I sighed proudly - proudly to work in here and to be able to call it 'our opera-house'.
As I suddenly heard a deep sigh behind me I thought my heart stood still. I opened my mouth but I was unable to scream, unable even to whisper. Finally, when I was able to move, I slowly turned around - but there was nobody there. I opened my eyes widely and could not believe them. I have heard someone sighing, I was sure! But nobody was behind me...
"Who... who is this?" I stumbled like a young frightened girl. I knew that nobody was at the opera-house now, no one that could have helped me - I was alone...
"I'm nobody, Madame." I heard this voice and unless there was a seat I would have fallen down on earth. The voice seemed to come from nowhere. So close, but inaccessible.
"Where are you at, Monsieur?" I was close to tears as I was incredibly frightened. Fear can turn adults into children again, my beloved Meg, into small, innocent children that are afraid of their own shadow.
The voice laughed and I wondered if it laughed at my fear. "Nowhere and everywhere, Madame."
Suddenly it hit me like a lightening. Oh dear, how could I forget? I asked myself. Silly me! "Is it you?" I asked carefully. "Are you Erik?"
As the voice did not answer I knew it was him - and I was relieved and frightened at the same time. "Monsieur, please answer!"
This silence was gloomier than the fear of his words.
"Why do you know?" he asked slowly. All of a sudden his voice sounded tired - and dangerous.
"I can't tell - but I've been knowing of your existence since I've started working here."
"Who are you, Madame? Just a ballet-mistress, aren't you? Why do you know then? Answer!" The piercing undertone of his voice suddenly made me cry.
"Please... please..." I stumbled but not knowing what I was begging for.
"It was Garnier, wasn't it? He told you. Poor man - I knew I shouldn't trust him..."
"No, no, no!" I screamed. "I knew it from the beginning! It wasn't his fault, believe me!" I was sure he would kill him if I would not tell everything. "You don't remember, I know, but I remember very well - it was at a fair, Monsieur..."
"Madame?" His voice lost everything of its danger and was only surprised at all.
"I was only seven, Monsieur, when I met you the very first time", I told him. I could nearly see how hard he searched through his memories. "I was a little girl, black hair, with a red dress." I was really surprised how good I could remember...
After some minutes of silence he raised his voice again. "Well, Madame, you'll understand that I cannot remember any of these sensation-seeking creatures", he said in a cutting voice. "And being in this cage I haven't had the feeling to look at them closer so that I'll remember them later on."
Oh dear, how could I dare to remind him of this inhuman treatment he was exposed in his childhood! Being closed up in a cage as a young, innocent boy... "Monsieur, I admire your opera-house! It's no doubt the most beautiful building I've ever seen!" I decided to change our topic.
"Yes, Madame, I've heard you before." I was very pleased to hear a soft smile in his voice. Pleased and happy. "But it wasn't only my work."
"Do you really think?" Oh, Meg, I knew that it was due to Garnier that this building has been able to be built, but it were Erik's ideas and his spirit that made a unique opera-house out of cold building-material. His thoughts that breathe life into all the columns and these stairs and the stage.
"How much did Monsieur Garnier tell you?"
I knew very well that he would see through all lies. "Enough, Monsieur, to understand that a genius is hidden in the opera's subterranean."
Suddenly he laughed. "And hidden behind disfigurement, Madame... believe me, it's better to hide this genius, as you call it, down in the subterranean."
"Why?" Dear Meg, I do not know if I was that naive then or just curious, but I asked this simple question on which I have not got any answer up to now. But now I do not need any answer as I already know them all...
"Madame, it'd be better if you go home now. I think your daughter is waiting for you."
He knew of you - and I did not want to know how much he already knew of us both.
"Monsieur..."
"No, Madame, not now, not today. I'm tired and I want to go. Just for one favour I'd like to ask you: Would it possible for you to care that there'll always be a programme in this box here?"
"Monsieur, there're always programmes for our visitors - in all boxes of the house", I answered confused.
"No, I mean, when this box won't be opened for visitors in future."
"Monsieur?" I did not understand at all.
"Just say if you'll put a programme in here - even if there won't be any visitors at this box." He really insisted on this strange favour.
"Of course, Monsieur, if you want to. It won't be any problem for me."
"Merci, Madame. And perhaps I'll have again some requests - but be sure that I'll always return the favour." Sudden silence.
"Monsieur?" I asked - but I did not get any answer. Then I knew he was gone, at least for this evening. Wondering what has happened to me within the last few minutes I got out of the box and then I looked at the number, just to be sure to remind it later. It was box number five.
The next few weeks passed quiet and with almost no incident worth mentioning. We had our regular performances, I did my job as ballet-mistress, I did not asked why box no. 5 suddenly was closed for normal visitors and I did not tell that I put a programme in this box too.
During these days I never met him again, but I also get to know these rumours that suddenly started circulating in the corps de ballet and expanded to the whole opera. A ghost should have been wandering around in the underground aisles, and only very few people were allowed to catch a short glance at the apparition.
First I laughed - with the satisfied feeling of knowing more and better. But as soon as you, my lovely Meg, started also telling fairy tales about this ghost - that was quickly called the 'Phantom of the Opera' - I got worried. Nobody, perhaps except Garnier and me, knew how dangerous your exciting phantom really was. And well, I only could guess about his real evil...
And when Erik started demanding for a very high fee - Meg, we are talking about 20.000 francs each month! - for his appearance as the Opera Ghost I was sure that he knew what he wanted and that he would use any possible means for achieving this success.
I wondered why director Poligny was willing to pay this without any complaints, but I thought he would have his reasons... and I did not ask. I never did - and perhaps that was the best thing I could do.
Very quickly I rose to a mediator between the directors and the Phantom of the Opera. Box no. 5 became a secret hiding place of our regular meetings where I received letters for the direction and handed the requested money and the latest programmes out. Sometimes I told him news which I have got to know recently, but most of the time he knew much more than I did.
And he kept his promise to return all favours - I was sure that he was responsible for your turning you into a solo-dancer in the corps de ballet, and I became even more obliged than before. He never forced me to these services, but I could not refused. I always wondered from where he talked to me at the box but I never asked. I always thought of you, sweet daughter, and what he could do for your career - and therefore I kept quiet.
On to Part V
Back to the Diary Index
