In explanation of the services
which he was able to render a monarch haunted by perpetual terrors, I
need only say that it was Erik who constructed all the famous
trap-doors and secret chambers and mysterious strong-boxes which were
found at Yildiz-Kiosk after the last Turkish revolution. He also
invented those automata, dressed like the Sultan and resembling the
Sultan in all respects,[2] which made people believe that the
Commander of the Faithful was awake at one place, when, in reality, he
was asleep elsewhere. Of course, he had to leave the Sultan's service for the same reasons
that made him fly from Persia:  he knew too much. Then, tired of his
adventurous, formidable and monstrous life, he longed to be some one
"like everybody else." And he became a contractor, like any ordinary
contractor, building ordinary houses with ordinary bricks. He tendered
for part of the foundations in the Opera. His estimate was accepted. When he found himself in the cellars of the enormous playhouse, his
artistic, fantastic, wizard nature resumed the upper hand. Besides,
was he not as ugly as ever? He dreamed of creating for his own use a
dwelling unknown to the rest of the earth, where he could hide from
men's eyes for all time. The reader knows and guesses the rest. It is all in keeping with this
incredible and yet veracious story. Poor, unhappy Erik! Shall we pity
him? Shall we curse him? He asked only to be "some one," like
everybody else. But he was too ugly! And he had to hide his genius OR
USE IT TO PLAY TRICKS WITH, when, with an ordinary face, he would have
been one of the most distinguished of mankind! He had a heart that
could have held the empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to
content himself with a cellar. Ah, yes, we must needs pity the Opera
ghost. I have prayed over his mortal remains, that God might show him mercy
notwithstanding his crimes. Yes, I am sure, quite sure that I prayed
beside his body, the other day, when they took it from the spot where
they were burying the phonographic records. It was his skeleton. I
did not recognize it by the ugliness of the head, for all men are ugly
when they have been dead as long as that, but by the plain gold ring
which he wore and which Christine Daae had certainly slipped on his
finger, when she came to bury him in accordance with her promise. The skeleton was lying near the little well, in the place where the
Angel of Music first held Christine Daae fainting in his trembling
arms, on the night when he carried her down to the cellars of the
opera-house. And, now, what do they mean to do with that skeleton? Surely they will
not bury it in the common grave! ... I say that the place of the
skeleton of the Opera ghost is in the archives of the National Academy
of Music. It is no ordinary skeleton. [1] Even so, I am convinced that it would be easy to reach it by
draining the lake, as I have repeatedly requested the Ministry of Fine
Arts to do. I was speaking about it to M. Dujardin-Beaumetz, the
under-secretary for fine arts, only forty-eight hours before the
publication of this book. Who knows but that the score of DON JUAN
TRIUMPHANT might yet be discovered in the house on the lake? [2] See the interview of the special correspondent of the MATIN, with
Mohammed-Ali Bey, on the day after the entry of the Salonika troops
into Constantinople. THE END




The Paris Opera House


THE SCENE OF GASTON LEROUX'S NOVEL, "THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA"

That Mr. Leroux has used, for the scene of his story, the Paris Opera
House as it really is and has not created a building out of his
imagination, is shown by this interesting description of it taken from
an article which appeared in Scribner's Magazine in 1879, a short time
after the building was completed:

"The new Opera House, commenced under the Empire and finished under the
Republic, is the most complete building of the kind in the world and in
many respects the most beautiful. No European capital possesses an
opera house so comprehensive in plan and execution, and none can boast
an edifice equally vast and splendid. "The site of the Opera House was chosen in 1861. It was determined to
lay the foundation exceptionally deep and strong. It was well known
that water would be met with, but it was impossible to foresee at what
depth or in what quantity it would be found. Exceptional depth also
was necessary, as the stage arrangements were to be such as to admit a
scene fifty feet high to be lowered on its frame. It was therefore
necessary to lay a foundation in a soil soaked with water which should
be sufficiently solid to sustain a weight of 22,000,000 pounds, and at
the same time to be perfectly dry, as the cellars were intended for the
storage of scenery and properties. While the work was in progress, the
excavation was kept free from water by means of eight pumps, worked by
steam power, and in operation, without interruption, day and night,
from March second to October thirteenth. The floor of the cellar was
covered with a layer of concrete, then with two coats of cement,
another layer of concrete and a coat of bitumen. The wall includes an
outer wall built as a coffer-dam, a brick wall, a coat of cement, and a
wall proper, a little over a yard thick. After all this was done the
whole was filled with water, in order that the fluid, by penetrating
into the most minute interstices, might deposit a sediment which would
close them more surely and perfectly than it would be possible to do by
hand. Twelve years elapsed before the completion of the building, and
during that time it was demonstrated that the precautions taken secured
absolute impermeability and solidity. "The events of 1870 interrupted work just as it was about to be
prosecuted most vigorously, and the new Opera House was put to new and
unexpected uses. During the siege, it was converted into a vast
military storehouse and filled with a heterogeneous mass of goods. After the siege the building fell into the hands of the Commune and the
roof was turned into a balloon station. The damage done, however, was
slight. "The fine stone employed in the construction was brought from quarries
in Sweden, Scotland, Italy, Algeria, Finland, Spain, Belgium and
France. While work on the exterior was in progress, the building was
covered in by a wooden shell, rendered transparent by thousands of
small panes of glass. In 1867 a swarm of men, supplied with hammers
and axes, stripped the house of its habit, and showed in all its
splendor the great structure. No picture can do justice to the rich
colors of the edifice or to the harmonious tone resulting from the
skilful use of many diverse materials. The effect of the frontage is
completed by the cupola of the auditorium, topped with a cap of bronze
sparingly adorned with gilding.