Before There Was Christine

“How can you be so defensive of that monster?!? That beast?!?” The words rang through my head, again and again. I had explained to Raoul de Changy how I had met and befriended dear Erik many years ago, but there was simply no reasoning with the man. Raoul despised the Phantom. 1

Maybe it was love. Yes, perhaps it was his love for Christine Daae that drove him to this passionate hate. Maybe it was jealousy. Whatever the reason, he simply did not understand. How could I defend that “monster?” Because I knew him. I knew how he ached in his heart, wishing that someone, anyone, loved him. 2

Erik’s story is a delicate one. When Erik was born and his mother first saw him, she screamed. His parents then abandoned him, embarrassed by his death-soaked appearance. (You must, at least, have some pity for a man who was unwanted by even his parents, the creators of his very existence.) Erik then joined a freak show where he thought he might, at the very least, be accepted. He was not. His master chained him in a cage and whipped him to the delight of all who came to stare and laugh at this “monster.” 3

One day I had gone to see the freak show with the rest of my ballet company. Seeing how the jeering and mockery tormented this pour soul, I became quite disturbed. I couldn’t just leave him there. I couldn’t just let them torture him. So, when no one was looking, I lured him out of his cage (he broke the chains himself). And he escaped with me.4

I took him to the Paris Opera House where he could live alone in the labyrinth of sewers and tunnels in the basement. He grew up there. Erik crafted an organ out of materials he found. (I don’t know how he did it, but we must keep in mind that the man was genius.) He taught himself to play and was soon composing concerto upon concerto, symphony upon symphony, and most importantly, opera upon opera. I’ll never know exactly what he did all day. He liked to be alone. 5

One thing many people do not know is that Erik was my dance instructor. True, he was not a dancer himself (a hopeless romantic, but never a dancer), but he could discipline me to dance my hardest better than any real dance teacher. And so we would meet for about an hour everyday to practice my ballet routines. 6

Then, one day, when I was about nineteen, he entered my life. Yes, I met another man. Pierre Giry was his name and he was perfect: romantic, sweet, charming... And we fell in love. Well, he fell in love. My heart never completely strayed from Erik. But I was infatuated with Pierre. He swept me off my feet and took me away to marry him. This upset Erik greatly. (I was his closest, really, his only friend and now he was all alone.) And several years later when my daughter Meg was three years of age, Pierre died mysteriously. Some said they thought he committed suicide. But I always had a lingering fear that somehow it was Erik who took my Pierre’s life. 7

Then when Meg turned five, I took her to see the Opera Populaire at the Paris Opera House. Seeing the great wonders upon stage, all the dancers leaping about to their hearts content, it stirred something in me. And I remembered... Erik. My memories of him inundated me and I knew I must go back. I must go back to the theatre. I must go back to the Opera Populaire ...and my Erik. 8

So I did. Meg grew up in the theatre and we later took in Miss Christine Daae as our very own family.9

I believe there is a common misconception as to how Erik and Christine became acquainted. No, he did not raise her as his daughter. (If she believed he was her father at all, it came strictly from her own imagination. He did care deeply for her, but not in a fathering sense.) I do not know exactly how they met, but it started with only the honest intentions of giving voice lessons. 10

Through all that happened between Erik and Christine, I always hoped that maybe, just maybe, Erik would one day love me. Don’t get me wrong, I was never jealous of Christine. Love is never jealous. If he really loved her, I wanted him to be happy with her (although he never was). But, in truth, she could never have loved him the way I did. Christine, although a very lovely, young woman, was too naive to understand and accept Erik as he truly was. But I loved him. He was hideous to many an eye, but to me he was beautiful. I looked at his death-soaked countenance and I saw an angel! 11