The Phantom of the Opera: Fact or Fiction?

The story of the Phantom of the Opera was initially published in a series of articles in La Galois and then in a book in 1911 entitled, Le Fantôme de l’Opéra written by a French journalist, Gastón Leroux. When the story was first published, it was not popular, and the book went out of print.

Leroux whose specialty was investigative journalism based his story on true-life events. In fact, many who have researched this subject believe with just a few exceptions the story has several elements that are true.

The opera house in the story was based on the real Opera Garnier in Paris. The Opera Garnier does have underground tunnels, and it also has an underground lake. Leroux used this setting in several dramatic scenes in his story.

Chandelier at Opera Garnier

There was an incident where a chandelier did fall in the Opera Garnier setting the building on fire and killing a woman. Leroux used a falling light in his story as a distraction so his Phantom could kidnap Christine.

The “romance” between the Phantom and Christine in the story is just a fantasy, but it is believed that Leroux based both characters on real people.

The Phantom is based upon a man named Erik who was born in a small village in Normandy, near Rouen. He was born with a horribly disfigured face, so his parents abandoned him when he was eight. A circus basically took him, and for 7 years he was used as an attraction.

He escaped in Persia and worked as an entertainer for the Shah. Later he worked as an architect’s assistant--he designed and built several harems, which gave him a greater understanding of architectural design.

Paris' Opera Granier 

Now confident, he returned to France. In Paris, he so impressed Charles Garnier that he was signed on as one of the contractors that built the new opera house--the Opera Garnier. He worked 12 hour days until the project was completed.

He was no longer the deformed child that had suffered cruelly. He now was a gentleman who wore a mask to hide his distorted face. He also wore a dress suit, a cloak, and a large felt hat. He was respected and earned enough money to live a comfortable life.

Just as in the story the real-life Erik had his own personal "Box 5" at the opera house. He even had a hollow column built next to it where he could come and go without being seen. 

Erik did fall in love with a singer who performed at the Opera Garnier. But finding himself rejected he kidnapped this singer after an evening performance. She was found 3 weeks later, and shortly afterward she left Paris.

After this, a legend was spread that Erik was so heartbroken that he walled up the door to his apartment beneath the opera house and died of starvation.

Years later when the new Opera Bastille was built this small apartment was supposedly discovered by a workman who found a skeleton wearing a gold ring that Erik was known to wear. It is said Leroux used this “legend” about the real Erik as inspiration for his story.

Under Opera Garnier

The character Christine was based upon a soprano by the name of Kristina Jonasdotter. It is believed she was Leroux's inspiration because of the overwhelming similarities between her and his character.

Jonasdotter was taught to play the violin by her older brother at a young age in Sweden. Her family was impoverished, which made it necessary for her to play this instrument on the street to earn money. She was sent to Stockholm and then to Paris to continue her lessons.

Jonasdotter’s beautiful singing voice like the character in the story was discovered by accident. She started to sing at concerts and took the stage name, Kristina Nilsson in the 1860s. According to historians Nilsson had an incredible vocal range and was very beautiful with “a lovely figure and clear blue eyes.”

The Haunting

Another interesting fact about this story is that the Opera Garnier was considered to be haunted by a phantom--the French term for a ghost--at the time Leroux wrote his story.

Leroux used some of these tales to inspire his story. The performers at the opera house firmly believed there was a ghost that haunted the building and the tunnels that lay below.

These performers placed a horseshoe above the entrance to the right stage wing for good luck but also to protect them from a ghost they considered to be malevolent in nature.

The Grand Staircase

It was believed that someone was secretly living in the opera house and many felt it was the ghost of the real Erik. In fact, many claimed that near Box 5 they heard “ghostly’ voices and whispers when the area was unoccupied.

Other witnesses stated that they saw this phantom running through various parts of the opera house. Even eerier these witnesses reported this figure wore a black cape and a mask over its face.

Renata de Waele in 1993 wrote a narrative that compared the fictional to the real stories. She worked in public relations at the Opera Garnier for many years. Some of her speculations have been proven others have not. So reality is blurred with fiction which leaves the curious with an intriguing mystery.

Buried Alive

In the past without the medical advancements we have today people were pronounced dead and buried when they were just unconscious. This happened enough that people actually feared being buried alive.

At one point there was even an industry that provided coffins with ways for a person to communicate if they were pronounced dead and buried by mistake.

Edgar Allan Poe and several other writers of his time wrote stories about this “real life” fear. Imagine reading one of these stories if you feared this or knew someone that had been buried alive.

In Daniel Cohen’s book, The Encyclopedia of Ghosts he shares several stories about people who suffered this awful fate. Here are just two.

A Long Happy Life

During a typhoid epidemic a young woman from an affluent family became ill. To the great sadness of the family the various physicians they called in all stated that they could do nothing for the young women. The last doctor told the family they best prepare for her death.

Her beloved older brother was traveling for business on the continent when he heard of her impending death. He rushed home to find she had already died and he was told that her funeral had been held just hours before his arrival.

Overwhelmed with grief he made his way to the cemetery. He found two gravediggers just finishing covering his sister’s grave with dirt. He wanted to say goodbye by looking upon her face one last time. He asked the gravediggers to uncover the coffin but they flatly refused.

A crowd gathered as he pleaded passionately with these men. Two onlookers took pity on him and volunteered to do the deed. As they pried the lid off the coffin the crowd pushed forward in morbid curiosity.

The brother looked down upon his sister’s face and tears clouded his vision. A grasp arose from the crowd for most had seen what they had assumed was a “dead corpse” now moving. Within moments the entire group heard soft moans.

The brother now confused looked at the people who surrounded him and was surprised to see them all jump back as one. He turned back to the coffin to see his sister sitting up.

She had just been unconscious and the family taking the doctor’s advice had buried her quickly in an attempt not to spread the disease.

The sister recovered completely--she married, had a large family and lived to attend her beloved brother’s funeral.

A Terrible End

The two men had been best friends since childhood. They opened a feed store together and they lived near each other after they both married.

One Sunday John was riding to the next town when something spooked his horse. John was thrown from the horse and hit his head on a rock.

The country doctor who attended him at the scene pronounced him dead. He was carried home in a wagon and buried near the orchard on the family farm.

The day after his funeral his best friend started to have a vivid nightmare.

In this dream John stood before him and asked, “Why did you let them bury me? I was not dead.”

The friend replied, “But you were dead.”

John disgusted at this response stated, "No I wasn’t. If you don’t believe me--check out my coffin--you will find the proof you need."

For the next several nights John appeared in his friend’s dreams and continued to argue with him.

The friend at his wits end finally went to John’s grave and dug it up. He found him face down--he of course had been buried face up.

Maine: The Catherine Hill Legend

This story was initially told in the 1860s in Maine. It has become one of Maine’s most enduring legends. 

It is said that for years an apparition of a female ghost on dark nights--sometimes without her head--is seen stalking the Black's Woods Road. This area is located between Franklin and Cherryfield on Route 182.

View from the north end of
Fox Pond

The short stretch of road where she is seen is very picturesque for it winds around Fox Pond and then climbs to the top of a small mountain named Catherine’s Hill.

This hill is named after Catherine because it is said she lost her life in a horrible carriage or car accident-- depending upon which decade the story is told.

As indicated, several versions of this story have been shared over the years but all state that passing motorists best take note of her presence--for if they don’t-- they will be cursed and die.

To drive this point home, the story of Catherine’s haunting includes a part about a traveling salesman who saw Catherine’s ghost walking near the woods by Fox Pond. He was so terrified by her headless appearance that he sped past where she stood.

This man lived to regret this decision for within moments he saw in his rearview mirror that she now sat in his backseat. Panicked, he lost control of his car--it crashed, and he was killed.

One University of Maine professor, Marcus LiBrizzi while doing research about Catherine’s ghost for his book was surprised to discover that many witnesses even today claim they have seen this strange specter.

Another Maine college professor whose students were doing a project on the Catherine Hill legend accompanied her class to the area several times. When interviewed after she stated that she had never believed in ghosts, but this project had definitely made her wonder if something unexplained is active in the area.

Her students and her picked up some eerie electromagnetic patterns during their research and she concluded that she felt the area was “dangerous” and must be treated with the utmost respect.

A local reporter who was doing a story about the legend also experienced something she hadn’t bargained for. As her cameraman followed her through the area, she felt as if they were not alone. Unsettled, she described that something the whole time was pressing against her back.

This legend is similar to a a story I shared in another post about Pennsylvania’s The White Lady of Wopsy Mountain.

Here is a link to a video that has an interview with Marcus Librizzi and the reporter.

Updates: a local Maine newscast highlighted this legend in 2014, you can read their story and watch their video here. 

The Weather Channel also shared this story on their Supernatural series that airs Sunday nights.

Then Who Followed You?

According to the person who first told this story it is true.

Our aunt took my older brother and I in when our mother died but when she remarried her new husband arranged for us to move to a rental property he owned.

It suited us well for it was in the inner city as opposed to the suburbs so it was close to my brother’s work and my art school.

The home was a traditional bungalow that was built in the mid-1920s. It was one and a half stories with an old-fashioned veranda and full cellar.

As it turned out this cellar came in handy for a year after moving in I formed a “garage band” and this cellar was an ideal place for us to practice.

Every Saturday and Sunday afternoon my band members would come over and we would practice until the early evening--my brother liked this because he was at work and didn’t have to put up with the our “noise.” After practice we then would go out and grab a bite to eat and see if there were any girls who caught our eye.

My members often complained that it was a pain to set up their equipment. They had to carry their instruments, amps etc. up the porch steps and in through the front door and walk back through the living room and dining room to the kitchen and then tote everything down some steep steps. To break down everything was the same pain but in reverse.

One late Saturday evening as I listened to their expected ribbing about what a chore this task was it started to rain lightly. Fortunately, most of the equipment was already packed inside a car but some equipment was in the bed of one friend’s truck so it was exposed.

I went back into the house to retrieve a tarp from the cellar. Once down the stairs I heard a noise--I looked across the large room but the boiler and heater that sat in the middle of the cellar blocked my view. Feeling uneasy I wondered if I should just leave.

I then saw a dark shadowy figure dart from one side of the room to the other out of the corner of my eye. I had always been told that if ever I saw a ghost I best ignore it and walk away.

But I became angry because I was afraid--I unwisely decided the best course of action was to be assertive. So I turned toward where I had seen the figure and announced out loud, “Would you just get lost. I do not have time for this nonsense right now.”

Acting upon a false sense of bravado I found the tarp and walked back up the stairs and grabbed the long string that turned off the exposed light bulb I slammed the door shut behind me. I turned the rest of the lights off as I walked from room to room.

I didn’t stop for I felt a presence at my back. I did not dare turn around.

As I reached the front door I turned off the last light inside. The streetlight flooded the entrance to the house as I quickly shut the door and locked it.

As I made my way down the porch steps I felt silly that I had gotten “spooked.” I convinced myself it was just my overactive imagination. I took a deep breath and walked to the truck.

It had stopped raining but I covered the bed with the tarp just in case. I opened the door and sat down. As I fastened my seat belt one band member asked, “Wait, isn’t your brother coming with us?”

Perplexed I told him, “no my brother is still at work."

The other band member in the truck then asked me, “Then who was behind you as you left the house?”