The Phantom of the Opera

Content Warning: Themes of haunting, mentions death & suicide. 

What if a ghost could truly haunt the opera house, lurking in the shadows and leaving a trail of mystery and fear behind? This Halloween episode invites you to explore the spine-tingling narratives surrounding the legendary opera ghost of "The Phantom of the Opera".

The music in this episode is Faith in You by DEX 1200.

Chapters

• 0:20 Halloween Episode
• 14:14 Ghostly Mystery at the Opera
• 27:48 Cryptic Suicide at the Opera

Transcript

Jordan: 0:20

Welcome to Dreamful Podcast bedtime stories for slumber. Welcome to Dreamful Podcast bedtime stories for slumber. This month we don't have any new supporters. A spooky episode, indeed. Your support goes towards things that keep this podcast running, like paying my amazing editor, katie, music licensing and website hosting. When you support the show, you gain access to subscriber-only episodes and receive a shout out. You can visit dreamfulstoriescom and on the support page you can find a link to become a Buzzsprout supporter or subscribe via Supercast. If you listen on Spotify, you can also support the show on Apple Podcasts, but you won't receive a shout out because they keep your information completely private. And thank you to everyone for your support. It really means so much to me. Okay, let's get into tonight's episode. We are nearing All Hallows' Eve, so it's time for our Halloween episode. This year, I'll be reading the Phantom of the Opera, so snuggle up your blankets and have sweet dreams.

Jordan: 2:08

It was the evening on which Madame de Beene and Poligny, the managers of the opera, were giving a last gala performance to mark their retirement. Suddenly, the dressing room of La Sorelle, one of the principal dancers, was invaded by half a dozen young ladies of the ballet who had come up from the stage after dancing polyuked, they rushed in amid great confusion, some giving vent to forced and unnatural laughter, others to cries of terror. Sorelli, who wished to be alone for a moment to run through the speech what she was to make to the resigning managers, looked around angrily at the mad and tumultuous crowd. It was little Joms, the girl with the tip-tilted nose, the forget-me-not eyes, the rose-red cheeks and the lily-white neck and shoulders, who gave the explanation in a trembling voice it's the ghost, and she locked the door. It's the ghost and she locked the door. Sorelli's dressing room was fitted up with official, commonplace elegance A pier glass, a sofa, a dressing table and a cupboard or two provided the necessary furniture. On the walls hung a few engravings, relics of the mother who had known the glories of the old opera in the Rue de Pelletier, portraits of Vestris Gardel, dupont, bigotini. But the room seemed a palace to the brats of the Corpse de Bel-et, who were lodged in common dressing rooms where they spent their time singing, quarreling, smacking the dressers and hairdressers and buying one another glasses of Cassie's beer or even rum, until the callboy's bell rang.

Jordan: 4:27

Sorelli was very superstitious. She shuddered when she heard Lil' Jean speak of ghost, called her a silly little fool. And then, as she was the first to believe in ghosts in general and the opera ghost in particular, at once asked for details. Have you seen him as plainly as I see you now, said little Jams, whose legs were giving way beneath her, and she dropped with a moan into a chair. Dropped with a moan into a chair, thereupon little Geary, the girl with eyes black as sloughs, hair black as ink, a swarthy complexion and a poor little skin stretched over poor little bones. Little Geary added If that's a ghost, he's very ugly.

Jordan: 5:25

Oh yes, cried the chorus of ballet girls, and they all began to talk together. The ghost had appeared to them in the shape of a gentleman in dress clothes who had suddenly stood before them in the passage without their knowing where he came from. He seemed to have come straight through the wall, pooh, said one of them, who had more or less kept her head. You see the ghost everywhere, and it was true. For several months there had been nothing discussed at the opera but this ghost in dress clothes who stalked about the building from top to bottom like a shadow, who spoke to nobody, to whom nobody dared speak and who vanished as soon as he was seen, no one knowing how or where, as became a real ghost. He made no noise in walking.

Jordan: 6:34

People began by laughing and making fun of this specter, dressed like a man of fashion or an undertaker, but the ghost legend soon swelled to enormous proportions. Among the corps de ballet, all the girls pretended to have met this supernatural being more or less often, and those who laughed the loudest were not the most at ease. When he did not show himself, he betrayed his presence or his passing by accident, comic or serious, for which the general superstition held him responsible. Had anyone met with a fall or suffered a practical joke at the hands of one of the other girls or lost a powder puff, it was at once the fault of the ghost of the opera ghost, after all. Who has seen him? You meet so many men in dress clothes at the opera who are not ghosts.

Jordan: 7:44

But this dress suit had a peculiarity of its own. It covered a skeleton, at least so the ballet girl said and of course it had a death's head. Was this all serious? The truth is that the idea of the skeleton came from the description of the ghost given by Joseph Bouquet, the chief scene shifter, who had really seen the ghost. He had run up against the ghost On the little staircase by the footlights which leads to the cellars. He had seen him for a second, For the ghost had fled, and to anyone who cared to listen to him he said he is extraordinarily thin and his dress coat hangs on a skeleton frame.

Jordan: 8:46

His eyes are so deep. He is extraordinarily thin and his dress coat hangs on a skeleton frame. His eyes are so deep that you can hardly see the fixed pupils. You just see two big black holes, as in a dead man's skull. His skin, which is stretched across his bones like a drumhead, is not white but a nasty yellow. His nose is so little worth talking about that you can't see it side face and the absence of that nose is a horrible thing to look at. All the hair he has is three or four long dark locks on the forehead and behind his ears. This chief scene shifter was a serious, sober, steady man, very slow at imagining things. His words were received with interest and amazement and soon there were other people to say that they too had met a man in dress clothes with a death's head on his shoulders Sensible men who had windowed.

Jordan: 10:01

The story began by saying that Joseph Bouquet had been the victim of a joke played by one of his assistants. And then, one after the other, there came a series of incidents so curious and so inexplicable that the very shrewdest people began to feel uneasy. For instance, a fireman is a brave fellow. He fears nothing, least of all fire. Well, the fireman in question would go on to make a round of inspection in the cellars and who, it seems, had ventured a little farther than usual, suddenly reappeared on the stage, pale, scared, trembling, with his eyes starting out of his head, impractically fainted, in the arms of the proud mother of little Jeans. And why? Because he had seen coming toward him, at the level of his head, but without a body attached to it, a head of fire. And, as I said, a fireman is not afraid of fire. The fireman's name was Pumpin.

Jordan: 11:38

The corpse de ballet was flung into consternation. At first sight, this fiery head in no way corresponded with Joseph Bouquet's description of the ghost, but the young ladies soon persuaded themselves that the ghost had several heads, which he changed about as he pleased, and of course they at once imagined that they were in the greatest danger. Once the firemen did not hesitate to faint, leaders in front row and back row, girls alike had plenty of excuses for the fright that made them quick in their pace when passing some dark corner or ill-lighted corridor. Sorelle herself, so really herself, on the day after the adventure of the firemen, placed a horseshoe on the table in front of the stage doorkeeper's box, which everyone who entered the opera otherwise than a spectator must touch before setting foot on the first tread of the staircase. This horseshoe was not invented by me, any more than any other part of this story. Alas, it may still be seen on the table in the passage outside the stage doorkeeper's box when you enter the opera through the court known as the court of menstruation.

Jordan: 13:16

To return to the evening in question, is the ghost Little Jamsa cried. An agonizing silence now reigned in the dressing room. Nothing was heard but the hard breathing of the girls. At last, jams flinging herself upon the farthest corner of the wall with every mark of real terror on her face. Whispered, listen. With every mark of real tear on her face. Whispered, listen. Everybody seemed to hear a rustling outside the door. There was no sound of footsteps. It was like light silk sliding over the panel. Then it stopped.

Jordan: 14:14

Sorelle tried to show more pluck than the other girls. She went out to the door and, in a quavering voice, asked who's there? But nobody answered. Then, feeling all eyes upon her watching her last movement, she made an effort to show courage and said very loudly is there anyone behind the door? Oh, yes, yes, of course there is, cried. That little dried plum of a mad giri, heroically holding Sorelle back by her gauze skirt. Whatever you do, don't open the door. Oh Lord, don't open the door. But Sorelle, armed with a dagger that never left her, turned the key and drew back the door.

Jordan: 15:12

While the ballet girls retreated to the inner dressing room and Meg Geary sighed. Sorelli looked into the passage bravely it was empty. It was empty. A gas flame in his glass prison cast a red and suspicious light into the surrounding darkness, without succeeding in dispelling it, and the dancer slammed the door again with a deep sigh. No, she said there is no one there. With a deep sigh. No, she said there is no one there. Still, we saw him. Jams declared, returning with timid little steps to her place beside Sorelli. He must be somewhere prowling about. I shan't go back to dress. We'd better all go down to the foyer together at once for the speech and we will come up again together.

Jordan: 16:22

And the child reverently touched the little coral finger ring which she wore as a charm against bad luck, while Sorelle, stealthily, with the tip of her pink right thumbnail, made a Saint Andrew's cross on the wooden ring which adorned the fourth finger of her left hand. She said to the little ballet girls she said to the little ballet girls Come, children, pull yourselves together. I dare say no one has ever seen the ghost. Yes, yes, we saw him. We saw him just now, cried the girls. He had his death's head in his dress coat, just as when he appeared to Joseph Bouquet. And Gabriel saw him too, said Jams, only yesterday, yesterday afternoon, in broad daylight. Gabriel, the chorus master, why, yes, didn't you know? And he was wearing his dress clothes in broad daylight. Who Gabriel? Why Noah the ghost? Certainly Gabriel told me so himself. That's what he knew him by.

Jordan: 17:50

Gabriel was in the stage manager's office. Suddenly the door opened and the Persian entered. You know, the Persian has the evil eye. Oh, yes, answered the little ballet girls in chorus, warding off ill luck by pointing their forefinger and little finger at the absent Persian, while their second and third fingers were bent on the palm and held down by the thumb. And you know how superstitious Gabriel is continued Joms. However, he is always polite. When he meets the Persian, he just puts his hand in his pocket and touches his keys.

Jordan: 18:34

Well, the moment the Persian appeared in the doorway, gabriel gave one jump from his chair to the lock of the cupboard so as to touch iron. In doing so, he tore a whole skirt of his overcoat on a nail. Praying to get out of the room, he banged his forehead against a hat peg and gave himself a huge bump. Then, suddenly, stepping back, he skinned his arm on the screen near the piano. He tried to lean on the piano but the lid fell on his hands and crushed his fingers. He rushed out of the office like a madman, slipped on the staircase and came down the hole of the first flight on his back. I was just passing with mother. We picked him up. He was covered with bruises and his face was all over blood. We were frightened out of our lives, but all at once he began to think providence that he had got off so cheaply. Then he told us what had frightened him. He had seen the ghost behind the Persian, the ghost with the death's head.

Jordan: 19:48

Just like Joseph Bouquet's description, Joms had told her story ever so quickly, as though the ghost were at her heels and was quite out of breath at the finish. The silence followed while Sorelli polished her nails in great excitement. It was broken by Lil' Geary who said Joseph Bouquet would do better to hold his tongue. Why should he hold his tongue, asked somebody. That's mother's opinion, replied Meg. That's mother's opinion, replied Meg, lowering her voice and looking all about her as though fearing lest others hear than those present might overhear. And why is it your mother's opinion? Hush mother says the ghost doesn't like being talked about. And why does your mother say so? Because, because nothing.

Jordan: 20:57

This reticence exasperated the curiosity of the young ladies who crowded round little Giri begging her to explain herself. They were there side by side, leaning forward simultaneously, in one movement of entreaty and fear, communicating their terror to one another, taking a keen pleasure in feeling their blood freeze in their veins. I swore not to tell, gasped Meg, but they left her no peace and promised to keep the secret until Meg, burning to say all she knew, began with her eyes fixed on the door. Well, it's because of the private box. What private box? The ghost box.

Jordan: 21:57

Has the ghost a box? Oh, do tell us, do tell us, not so loud, said Meg, it's box five. You know the box on the grand tier next to the stage box on the left? Oh, nonsense, I tell you it is. Mother has charge of it. I swear you won't say a word, of course, of course. Well, that's the ghost box. No one has had it for over a month except the ghost, and orders have been given at the box office that it must never be sold. And does the ghost really come there? Yes, and somebody does come, why? No, the ghost comes, but there is nobody there. The little ballet girls exchanged glasses.

Jordan: 22:58

If the ghost came to the box, he must be seen because he wore a dress, coat and death's head. This is what they tried to make Meg understand, but she replied that's just it. The ghost is not seen and he has no dress, coat and no head. All that talk about his death's head and his head of fire is nonsense. There's nothing in it. You only hear him when he is in the box. There's nothing in it. You only hear him when he is in the box. Mother has never seen him, but she has heard him. Mother knows, because she gives him his program. Sorelli interfered Geary child, you're getting at us. Thereupon, little Geary began to cry. I ought to have held my tongue if mother ever came to know. But I was quite right. Joseph Bouquet had no business to talk of things that don't concern him. It will bring him bad luck. Mother was saying so last night.

Jordan: 24:08

There was a sound of hurried and heavy footsteps in the passage and a breathless voice cried Cecil, cecil, are you there? It's Mother's voice, said Joms, what's the matter? She opened the door. A respectable lady, built on the lines of a Pomeranian grenadier, burst into the dressing room and dropped groaning into a vacant armchair. Her eyes rolled madly in her brick, dust-colored face. How awful, she said. How awful. What, what? Joseph Bouquet? What about him? Joseph Bouquet is dead.

Jordan: 25:00

The room became filled with exclamations, with astonished outcries, with scared requests for explanations. Yes, he was found hanging in the third floor cellar. It's the ghost. Little Geary blurted as though in spite of herself. But at once she crooked herself with her hands pressed against her mouth. No, no, I didn't say it. I didn't say it. All around her, her panic-stricken companions repeated under their breaths yes, it must be the ghost. Sorelli was very pale. I shall never be able to recite my speech. She said. Majans gave her opinion while she emptied a glass of liqueur that happened to be standing on a table. While she emptied a glass of liqueur that happened to be standing on a table, the ghost must have something to do with it. The truth is that no one ever knew how Joseph became at his death. The verdict at the inquest was natural suicide.

Jordan: 26:29

In his memoirs of manager, monsieur Monchemin, one of the joint managers who succeeded Madame de Bien in Poligny, describes the incident as follows A grievous accident spoiled the little party which Madame Debienne and Pligny gave to celebrate their retirement. I was in the manager's office and Mercier, the acting manager, suddenly came darting in. He seemed half-mad and told me that the body of a scene-shifter had been found hanging in the third cellar, under the stage between a farmhouse and a scene from the King of L'Eau. I shouted Come and cut him down. By the time I had rushed down the staircase and the Jacob's Ladder, the man was no longer hanging from his rope. So this is an event which Monsieur Mon Charmin thinks is natural. The man hangs at the end of a rope, the goad cut him down. The rope has disappeared.

Jordan: 27:48

Oh, monsieur Marchand-Mine found a very simple explanation. Listen to him. It was just after the ballet and leaders and dancing girls lost no time in taking their precautions against the evil eye. There you are. Picture the corpse de ballet scuttling down the Jacob's Ladder and dividing the suicide's rope amongst themselves in less time than it takes to write. When, on the other hand, I think of the exact spot where the body was discovered, the third cellar underneath the stage, imagine that somebody must have been interested in seeing that the rope disappeared after it had affected its purpose. I wonder if that's true, and time will show if I'm wrong. The horrid news soon spread all over the opera, where Joseph Bouquet was very popular. The dressing rooms emptied and the ballet girls crowding around Sorelli like timid sheep around the shepherdess made for the foyer through the ill-lit passages and staircases, trotting as fast as their little pink legs could carry no-transcript.

Jordan: 33:33

No-transcript ¶¶. © transcript Emily Beynon. Thank you.