Happy (early) Valentines Day!
What better day to break down one of literatures most famous love triangles? Gaston Leroux’s novel ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ has charmed, and haunted, the world long before Andrew Lloyd Webber took to his keyboard. Despite the books success though, it was Webber’s words that immortalised the story and loves of the Phantom, Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daaé.
Before delving deep into the triangle, let’s have a quick Phantom recap. The novel opens with the narrator discussing the Phantom’s existence, confirming that ‘yes, he did exist in flesh and blood, although he assumed in every respect the appearance of a ghost – that is, of a shadow.’[1] Immediately the Phantom is drawn as a gothic figure, and he straddles the dichotomy of appearing to be a living, physical being, but also a ghost. In the world of Paris, in artistry and music, the Phantom is a significant Other and classed as something ‘not of this world.’[2] This immediately complicates the love triangle and gives it elements of a gothic romance, presenting greater danger, and greater risk, for Christine.
This is encapsulated well by the narrator, after setting the scene to tell the famed story of ‘love and terror.’[3] This juxtaposition represents the conflict around Christine and her situation and foreshadows the perilous story that unfolds across the remaining pages.
In her initial encounters with the Phantom, Christine is quite understandably terrified:
‘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. I felt so helpless that I lost consciousness…’[4]
Christine’s mention of ‘hell’ further emphasises the gothic nature of her relationship with the Phantom. Geographically, the Phantom’s residence underneath the Opera House bases him closer to hell, he inhabits his own underworld. This directly contrasts the world above, or the world of the living. In the musical, Raoul declares his love for Christine on the roof of the opera house, the opposite end of the Phantom’s abode. What connects these two hemispheres is Christine, her physical presence, and her voice.
It is her voice that draws the Phantom to her, and vice versa, and forms the basis of their relationship. It is always on an uneven keel though, as the Phantom falls in love with Christine, a feeling that is unreciprocated. Raoul overhears a conversation between Christine and the Phantom, in which she says, ‘I only sing for you!’ and ‘tonight I gave you my soul and I am dead!’[5] This is reminiscent of someone selling their soul to the devil. Christine describes the Phantom as her Angel of Music, her private tutor, spiritual and musical guide. It is through this talent that the Phantom initially exerts control over Christine, as he wishes to possess her so he can possess her voice. This is why she convinces him that she only sings for his pleasure alone.
As the novel progresses, Christine becomes increasingly distressed by the Phantom’s ever-looming presence. Although initially appearing to her as a ghost like figure, the Phantom later becomes a physical manifestation, and gifts Christine a piece of him in the form of a ring, stating that, he is only letting her go on the ‘condition that you wear this ring all the time.’[6] Christine however loses it, and lives in constant fear that she may anger the Phantom because of this. This ring signifies the control the Phantom has over Christine, a physical structure that physically is intended not to let go.
For the Phantom though, the ring is symbolic of his desire to be accepted as a human being by his fellow man. Seeing it as a noble proposition, this act is antithetical to his typical bestial behaviour. The honourable proposition of marriage humanises the Phantom, communicating a desire to live a life respected by society. This speaks to various competing themes oscillating within the love triangle, such as control and freedom, love and oppression.
Let’s check in with our heroine, Christine. Christine goes along with the Phantom’s demand as not to incur his ire or hurt his feelings, highlighting Christine’s compassionate nature and her desire to maintain her obligation. Throughout the novel Christine is pretty vocal about the conflict she faces with the Phantom, summing it up to Raoul by saying that the Phantom ‘fills me with horror and yet I do not hate him.’[7] Christine cannot find a reason to be cruel to the Phantom as others do, and recognises that, just because she is scared of him, it does not mean that she wishes him ill. Christine seeks to find a balance between being kind to the Phantom, and kind to herself, trying in every attempt not to be ‘too cruel!’[8] What I feel is overlooked in some adaptations of the novel is Christine’s magnanimity – she is willing to try and be kind to the Phantom sometimes at the cost of her own mental wellbeing.
Christine’s connection with the Phantom causes her such mental anguish that it physically changes her, to the point at which she almost adopts his physical form. Raoul describes that ‘a contented smile appeared upon her bloodless lips, the smile of a patient at the first glimpse of hope that her illness might not be fatal.’[9] The lack of blood in Christine’s complexion emphasises her now ghostly, corpse-like nature, mirroring that of the Phantom, her ‘illness’ being a metaphor for the Phantom himself, as a physical drain on her mentally and physically, thus making her ill. The fact that his illness ‘might not be fatal’ gives hope at this point in the novel, implying that there is an end and solution to the problematic presence of the Phantom.
However, the Phantom, who I will now refer to as Erik, reverts to his old ways, and abducts Christine, prompting the Persian to lead Raoul in a search to find her. As well as using emotional manipulation to gain control over Christine, Erik, unlike Raoul, resorts to violence. Erik’s abduction of Christine is also in part response to Raoul’s presence, he wishes to keep her physically away from him. Erik’s love of Christine, and later jealousy towards Raoul, fuels his desire to control her, using the ring and through physically taking her by force to his lair. The irony is, I do believe that Erik is acting with pure intentions. I do not believe he wishes to hurt Christine, but his behaviour can be explained by his lack of human connection throughout his life. This lack of contact means that his moral compass is askew. He operates on a natural justice, not the man-made moral codes that his isolated life never allowed him to be exposed to.
Let us now turn to Raoul de Chagny, and his claim over Christine. Raoul and Christine are childhood sweethearts and reconnect after he sees one of performances. As she confides in him about Erik, he is increasingly confused, but also becomes increasingly resolved to protect her, vowing to ‘break his power’ over her.[10] At this point in the novel, Christine has taken on Erik’s ring, and cannot marry Raoul. To remedy this, she suggests a ‘secret betrothal,’ only the two of them know about.[11] Raoul happily agrees, but secretly affirms to himself that ‘by the end of the month Christine will consent to be my wife.’[12] This made me wonder. Does Raoul want to free Christine from Erik for the sake of Christine, or just so that he can have total possession over her. While Erik still lives, he will always occupy part of Christine’s mind – once he is gone, Raoul will have Christine all to himself. Also, at this point in the novel, Christine’s mental state, as previously discussed is unstable at best. Is Raoul taking advantage of this?
Throughout her whole ordeal, Raoul is also quite obsessed with Christine’s virtue. He privately questions, on multiple occasions if her relationship with Erik means that she is still ‘pure.’[13] It is very much a thought of the time, but given the wider situation and later peril, one wonders whether this should be Raoul’s top priority. If she were impure, and he did not marry her because of this, one must ask if he genuinely cares about Christine or about himself and his reputation more. He appears fickle, and insincere – he openly does not trust Christine, although she has the purest intentions of anybody within the novel.
It seems that jealousy plagues both men and affects their treatment of Christine. At times it appears that both men may not even want Christine, take Raoul’s doubts over her chastity, they just want to ensure that the other man does not have her. Both men put their feelings above that of Christine’s and seem to ignore her in the process. Both ignore her true, kind nature, and ignore what she needs throughout the novel. She does not need pressure and smothering from Erik, and she does not need judgement from Raoul, but support. They both do not recognise the complexity of her situation, and her desire to ensure everyone escapes unscathed. The jealousy that both men show distorts their worldview massively, and essentially adds to the toxicity of the love triangle.
However, in classic gothic literature, the most palatable conclusion for society is opted for. Although at the close of the novel Christine does display some reluctance in leaving Erik’s lair, she does work to ensure that Raoul is free from Erik’s grasp. Given the time of the novel’s publication, it is expected that Christine ends up with Raoul, in a good respectable marriage and of course this plays out. Erik tragically fades away but finishes the novel in a much more humane light than at the start.
Justice for Christine I say, she would have been better off without both of them!
Thanks for reading!
[1] Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera (London, Penguin Classics, 2012) p. 5.
[2] Ibid., p. 5.
[3] Ibid., p. 9.
[4] Ibid., p. 73.
[5] Ibid., p. 28.
[6] Ibid., p. 55.
[7] Ibid., p. 141.
[8] Ibid., p. 129.
[9] Ibid., p. 110.
[10] Ibid., p. 126.
[11] Ibid., p. 120.
[12] Ibid., p. 120.
[13] Ibid., p. 97.
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