Christine Daaé is portrayed by Leroux as a young woman who, when we read her story, appears to live in a dream world.
During one of my many re-reading of “the” book and came to the chapter that reveals her background (Chapter 6: “The Enchanted Violin”), I was struck by just how unusual an upbringing she had. Until recently, I hadn't really paid a great deal of attention to many of these details. Now, however, they seemed to jump out at me. Was Leroux hinting that perhaps there was something unusual—or even inappropriate— about the relationship between Christine and her father? Was I simply encountering a subtle shift in meaning that often comes about when a work is translated from one language to another? Or have I simply red more into the matter than was intended? Whatever the real case may be (and Monsieur Leroux isn’t around to ask for a clarification), I like to think that my interpretations make for an interesting discussion.
What follows is a summary of what Leroux has to say about all of this, with some comments by me. We are talking here about a young woman’s early childhood years. This period in a person’s life is critical when it comes to the formation of character. They don't call these the formative years for nothing. The references to pages are to The Essential Phantom of the Opera, translated and edited by Leonard Wolf, the paperback edition published in 1996 by ibooks, Inc. of New York.
Christine Daaé was born in a small village near Uppsala, Sweden, apparently an only child. No other siblings are ever mentioned—past or present. She did not come from any special background. Her parents were of that class often referred to as "the salt of the earth" – common folk who work and toil and make enough to live in reasonable comfort, though hardly in the lap of luxury.
Her father was a farmer who also played the fiddle. He had quite a reputation in the region and was often invited to play at special events. Music filled their lives from the start. Perhaps it was the only truly pleasurable part of what had to have been a hard life.
"He tilled the soil during the week and sang in the choir on Sundays. This peasant had a little daughter to whom (even before she could read) he had taught the musical alphabet. It may be that the elder Daaé was, without himself being aware of it, a great musician. He played the violin and was considered the best wedding fiddler in all of Scandinavia. His reputation spread widely through the district, and he was always called upon to play at weddings and banquets." (Wolf, 81)
Her mother was an invalid, though the cause of her disability is not known. In any case, she was quickly out of the picture, dying when Christine was only 6 years old. Upon the death of his wife, Daddy Daaé must have decided it was time for a change. He sold the farm and, with his daughter in tow, headed to Uppsala, apparently in search of fame and fortune. Leroux does not tell us what he hoped to do in Uppsala, but I'm guessing he had intended to become a concert violinist of some sort. But whatever plans he had, they failed. As Leroux writes, "What he found was poverty." (Wolf, 82)
What surprises me is that, even though he has a daughter to care for, and having had no luck in Uppsala, Daddy D does not attempt to engage in gainful employment. Maybe he doesn't like the idea of being a peasant the rest of his life. He could have returned to his village and to farming, which would at least have put food on the table for him and his daughter, but instead, he chose the life of an itinerant fiddler. This is where I begin to wonder about his mental well-being, and what kind of life he is forcing upon his daughter.
"Back he went, then, to the countryside, going from fair to fair, strumming his Scandinavian melodies, while his child, who never left him, listened ecstatically, or accompanied him with her songs." (Wolf, 82)
Little Christine made quite an impression upon people. They, "…marveled at her beauty, her grace, and her eagerness to speak and to behave well." (Wolf, 82) She is a natural performer, perhaps an early Swedish version of Shirley Temple. In any case, she sounds almost too good to be true, but it is this part—"her eagerness to speak and to behave well"—coupled with observations on the behavior of children who grow up in an abusive and or inappropriate environment that comes across as a possible clue. All right, maybe it's just the translator, but I have to depend upon someone!!
While performing at the Limby fair, Christine and her father are discovered by Professor Valérius. The professor is so taken with the two that he brings them to live with him and his wife in Gothenburg. This has got to be a big improvement in their lives. Instead of life on the road, Christine now has a stable home life, regular meals and a chance to receive a proper education. Christine is also well received by the professor's wife, who treats her as a daughter as it seems that the professor and Mme Valérius had no children of their own. The four of them eventually move to Paris, perhaps to further Christine's education or they may have done so for financial or academic opportunities for Professor Valérius, who now had three people depending on him.
"When Professor and his wife had to move to France, they took the Daaés with them." (Wolf, 82) The word that jumped out at me in that line is “had”—suggesting that they had no choice but to take the Daaes along with them. There is no mention of why they "had" to move. Could this be nothing more than a translation issue? I asked an acquaintance who was fluent in French and who had access to the original French version of the book if “had” was a correct translation. Yes, I was told. Then I got to thinking, might this be an allusion to their having to move due to persecution and/or political unrest. There was a lot of that going on throughout Europe of the mid-19th century, some of which led to riots and revolutions that at times would spread across the continent like wildfire.
I also found it interesting that Leroux writes, "…they took the Daaés with them." Was it that they had become close, like family? Or could it be that the Professor and his wife were uncomfortable about leaving the two of them to their own devices. Maybe Mme Valérius, who had taken over the responsibilities of being a mother to young Christine, did not wish to be parted from her surrogate daughter, or she may have had concerns that her father could, without meaning to, neglect her.
Once in Paris, Daddy Daaé got homesick, and "…he began to wither away. In Paris, he never went out. He lived in a sort of dream that he maintained by means of his violin. He shut himself into his room with his daughter where they could be heard for hours on end playing the violin and singing very softly, very softly." (Wolf, 82)
At this point, it is beginning to sound to me like Christine’s father does not want her to grow up. Leroux’s description reminds me of a man who is clinging to a dream world that does not exist, and forcing his daughter to live in it, too. I also worry about a man, any man (even a father), who shuts himself away with a young girl for hours on end. Maybe I've simply seen and read too many stories about sexual predators and am reading more into this
than Leroux intended, but it does sound very strange to me.
Daddy Daaé did not recover his strength until that following summer, when the family (now meant to include the Professor & Mme Valérius, Papa Daaé and Christine) went on a holiday to Perros-Guirec, where the seaside reminded Christine's father of his homeland. "He loved the sea there, saying that it had the same color as the one in his homeland; often, at the beach, he would play his most poignant melodies, saying that the sea grew calm to hear them." (Wolf, 82) Again, we have this daydreamer who might easily be considered a kind of late-19th century hippy type!
While the four of them were in Perros, Papa Daaé pleaded with Mme. Valérius to "indulge a new whim of the fiddler's”—namely, to take Christine with him so the two of them could wander the countryside. "During the season of the 'pardons' [Breton pilgrimages], festivals, and dances, he went, as formerly, with his violin, and he was allowed to take his daughter with him for eight days. No one tired of hearing them. Into the tiniest of villages, they poured out enough music to last for an entire year. Refusing beds in an inn, they slept at night in barns, where they lay beside each other on the straw as they had done in those days in Sweden when they were so poor." (Wolf, 82)
In addition, there's this: "Meanwhile, they were properly dressed." Almost makes me think that Leroux knew even then what this all sounded like, and wanted to reassure his readers that everything's okay! Leroux continues, "They refused the money they were offered, nor would they take up a collection. People who followed them from village to village did not understand the conduct of the violinist who traveled their roads with a beautiful child who sang so well that one might have thought her to be an angel out of paradise." (Wolf, 82-83) Honestly, I don't either. Sounds to me like Daddy D is trying to recapture something that he feels he has lost.
At the least, Christine’s father is a peculiar man, refusing beds in inns so he could sleep in barns in the straw with his daughter. And this is where it starts getting really tricky, because now I am wondering…did Daaé do more than just sleep? It wouldn't have been the first time a man expected a daughter to take the place of his wife—up to and including the possibilities of an incestuous relationship. Keep in mind that throughout the book, there is this whole father-fixation issue, plus the Angel/Father/Only a Man issue. Such an explanation would go far in explaining her susceptibility to suggestions.
There is also the part where Leroux writes, “He was allowed to take his daughter with him for eight days...” Isn’t that a rather odd thing to say? Why wouldn't a father take his daughter wherever he wanted to take her?
It seems certain that Christine had, at the very least, been conditioned to do what she was told by a strong father figure. Her first teacher was her father. He taught her music and singing, and filled her head with “dark stories of the north.” She in turn did all she could to please him, because she enjoyed the music and the stories. How far she went to please him is not known, and it is left for readers like me to pick apart chapters and paragraphs and sentences, looking for clues as to what might have happened.
But whether or not there was anything inappropriate in Christine’s relationship with her father, it is obvious that she had an unusual upbringing, to say the least. With this kind of a background, she couldn't have been a better, more likely person for the Phantom to be attracted to. She was someone who wouldn't run screaming if she heard a voice coming from no apparent source. On the contrary; she'd be intrigued by it.
During one of my many re-reading of “the” book and came to the chapter that reveals her background (Chapter 6: “The Enchanted Violin”), I was struck by just how unusual an upbringing she had. Until recently, I hadn't really paid a great deal of attention to many of these details. Now, however, they seemed to jump out at me. Was Leroux hinting that perhaps there was something unusual—or even inappropriate— about the relationship between Christine and her father? Was I simply encountering a subtle shift in meaning that often comes about when a work is translated from one language to another? Or have I simply red more into the matter than was intended? Whatever the real case may be (and Monsieur Leroux isn’t around to ask for a clarification), I like to think that my interpretations make for an interesting discussion.
What follows is a summary of what Leroux has to say about all of this, with some comments by me. We are talking here about a young woman’s early childhood years. This period in a person’s life is critical when it comes to the formation of character. They don't call these the formative years for nothing. The references to pages are to The Essential Phantom of the Opera, translated and edited by Leonard Wolf, the paperback edition published in 1996 by ibooks, Inc. of New York.
Christine Daaé was born in a small village near Uppsala, Sweden, apparently an only child. No other siblings are ever mentioned—past or present. She did not come from any special background. Her parents were of that class often referred to as "the salt of the earth" – common folk who work and toil and make enough to live in reasonable comfort, though hardly in the lap of luxury.
Her father was a farmer who also played the fiddle. He had quite a reputation in the region and was often invited to play at special events. Music filled their lives from the start. Perhaps it was the only truly pleasurable part of what had to have been a hard life.
"He tilled the soil during the week and sang in the choir on Sundays. This peasant had a little daughter to whom (even before she could read) he had taught the musical alphabet. It may be that the elder Daaé was, without himself being aware of it, a great musician. He played the violin and was considered the best wedding fiddler in all of Scandinavia. His reputation spread widely through the district, and he was always called upon to play at weddings and banquets." (Wolf, 81)
Her mother was an invalid, though the cause of her disability is not known. In any case, she was quickly out of the picture, dying when Christine was only 6 years old. Upon the death of his wife, Daddy Daaé must have decided it was time for a change. He sold the farm and, with his daughter in tow, headed to Uppsala, apparently in search of fame and fortune. Leroux does not tell us what he hoped to do in Uppsala, but I'm guessing he had intended to become a concert violinist of some sort. But whatever plans he had, they failed. As Leroux writes, "What he found was poverty." (Wolf, 82)
What surprises me is that, even though he has a daughter to care for, and having had no luck in Uppsala, Daddy D does not attempt to engage in gainful employment. Maybe he doesn't like the idea of being a peasant the rest of his life. He could have returned to his village and to farming, which would at least have put food on the table for him and his daughter, but instead, he chose the life of an itinerant fiddler. This is where I begin to wonder about his mental well-being, and what kind of life he is forcing upon his daughter.
"Back he went, then, to the countryside, going from fair to fair, strumming his Scandinavian melodies, while his child, who never left him, listened ecstatically, or accompanied him with her songs." (Wolf, 82)
Little Christine made quite an impression upon people. They, "…marveled at her beauty, her grace, and her eagerness to speak and to behave well." (Wolf, 82) She is a natural performer, perhaps an early Swedish version of Shirley Temple. In any case, she sounds almost too good to be true, but it is this part—"her eagerness to speak and to behave well"—coupled with observations on the behavior of children who grow up in an abusive and or inappropriate environment that comes across as a possible clue. All right, maybe it's just the translator, but I have to depend upon someone!!
While performing at the Limby fair, Christine and her father are discovered by Professor Valérius. The professor is so taken with the two that he brings them to live with him and his wife in Gothenburg. This has got to be a big improvement in their lives. Instead of life on the road, Christine now has a stable home life, regular meals and a chance to receive a proper education. Christine is also well received by the professor's wife, who treats her as a daughter as it seems that the professor and Mme Valérius had no children of their own. The four of them eventually move to Paris, perhaps to further Christine's education or they may have done so for financial or academic opportunities for Professor Valérius, who now had three people depending on him.
"When Professor and his wife had to move to France, they took the Daaés with them." (Wolf, 82) The word that jumped out at me in that line is “had”—suggesting that they had no choice but to take the Daaes along with them. There is no mention of why they "had" to move. Could this be nothing more than a translation issue? I asked an acquaintance who was fluent in French and who had access to the original French version of the book if “had” was a correct translation. Yes, I was told. Then I got to thinking, might this be an allusion to their having to move due to persecution and/or political unrest. There was a lot of that going on throughout Europe of the mid-19th century, some of which led to riots and revolutions that at times would spread across the continent like wildfire.
I also found it interesting that Leroux writes, "…they took the Daaés with them." Was it that they had become close, like family? Or could it be that the Professor and his wife were uncomfortable about leaving the two of them to their own devices. Maybe Mme Valérius, who had taken over the responsibilities of being a mother to young Christine, did not wish to be parted from her surrogate daughter, or she may have had concerns that her father could, without meaning to, neglect her.
Once in Paris, Daddy Daaé got homesick, and "…he began to wither away. In Paris, he never went out. He lived in a sort of dream that he maintained by means of his violin. He shut himself into his room with his daughter where they could be heard for hours on end playing the violin and singing very softly, very softly." (Wolf, 82)
At this point, it is beginning to sound to me like Christine’s father does not want her to grow up. Leroux’s description reminds me of a man who is clinging to a dream world that does not exist, and forcing his daughter to live in it, too. I also worry about a man, any man (even a father), who shuts himself away with a young girl for hours on end. Maybe I've simply seen and read too many stories about sexual predators and am reading more into this
than Leroux intended, but it does sound very strange to me.
Daddy Daaé did not recover his strength until that following summer, when the family (now meant to include the Professor & Mme Valérius, Papa Daaé and Christine) went on a holiday to Perros-Guirec, where the seaside reminded Christine's father of his homeland. "He loved the sea there, saying that it had the same color as the one in his homeland; often, at the beach, he would play his most poignant melodies, saying that the sea grew calm to hear them." (Wolf, 82) Again, we have this daydreamer who might easily be considered a kind of late-19th century hippy type!
While the four of them were in Perros, Papa Daaé pleaded with Mme. Valérius to "indulge a new whim of the fiddler's”—namely, to take Christine with him so the two of them could wander the countryside. "During the season of the 'pardons' [Breton pilgrimages], festivals, and dances, he went, as formerly, with his violin, and he was allowed to take his daughter with him for eight days. No one tired of hearing them. Into the tiniest of villages, they poured out enough music to last for an entire year. Refusing beds in an inn, they slept at night in barns, where they lay beside each other on the straw as they had done in those days in Sweden when they were so poor." (Wolf, 82)
In addition, there's this: "Meanwhile, they were properly dressed." Almost makes me think that Leroux knew even then what this all sounded like, and wanted to reassure his readers that everything's okay! Leroux continues, "They refused the money they were offered, nor would they take up a collection. People who followed them from village to village did not understand the conduct of the violinist who traveled their roads with a beautiful child who sang so well that one might have thought her to be an angel out of paradise." (Wolf, 82-83) Honestly, I don't either. Sounds to me like Daddy D is trying to recapture something that he feels he has lost.
At the least, Christine’s father is a peculiar man, refusing beds in inns so he could sleep in barns in the straw with his daughter. And this is where it starts getting really tricky, because now I am wondering…did Daaé do more than just sleep? It wouldn't have been the first time a man expected a daughter to take the place of his wife—up to and including the possibilities of an incestuous relationship. Keep in mind that throughout the book, there is this whole father-fixation issue, plus the Angel/Father/Only a Man issue. Such an explanation would go far in explaining her susceptibility to suggestions.
There is also the part where Leroux writes, “He was allowed to take his daughter with him for eight days...” Isn’t that a rather odd thing to say? Why wouldn't a father take his daughter wherever he wanted to take her?
It seems certain that Christine had, at the very least, been conditioned to do what she was told by a strong father figure. Her first teacher was her father. He taught her music and singing, and filled her head with “dark stories of the north.” She in turn did all she could to please him, because she enjoyed the music and the stories. How far she went to please him is not known, and it is left for readers like me to pick apart chapters and paragraphs and sentences, looking for clues as to what might have happened.
But whether or not there was anything inappropriate in Christine’s relationship with her father, it is obvious that she had an unusual upbringing, to say the least. With this kind of a background, she couldn't have been a better, more likely person for the Phantom to be attracted to. She was someone who wouldn't run screaming if she heard a voice coming from no apparent source. On the contrary; she'd be intrigued by it.
