#phantom research

That evening, as on every evening, our Persian was thus dressed as a Persian; but the new ambassador of Persia, he was dressed in the latest Parisian fashion, and there was nothing surprising about that, since he had come straight from London. The seat occupied by the Persian was directly below the ambassador’s box. When the curtain fell, the Persian had stood up and remained standing, with his back to the box. But surely, he would turn around all at once, and the ambassador would see him. What would he do? Would he recognize him? Was there anyone, even in Persia, who knew the Persian? It had been said that he was a very important figure: well, we were about to find out! We didn’t see anything at all. Mr. Moncharmin recounts in his Memoirs that the Persian walked in front of the Persian ambassador without even greeting him and that it seemed to him there was more haughtiness and calm disdain in the former’s demeanor than usual.

But. Guess who also visited Paris.

The Shah.

Yes that Shah.

One thing that comes up in the Shah's journals about travelling around Europe is how much he loves going to the opera. He visited Paris in 1873 but also returned in 1878 for the Exposition.

Now imagine you're the king of Persia and you decide to check out this fancyass new opera house that was recently opened and you're receiving the Official Tour for World Leaders or whatever and you run into the distant cousin you exiled for not killing his maybe boyfriend who was also your ex best friend who is also here. alive. for some reason.

So forget Christine and Raoul and Carlotta and all that minor petty drama. I need like. An International Incident.

This ball was an exceptional celebration, given before shrovetide, in honour of the birthday of a renowned illustrator of the festivities of yesteryear, an emulator of Gavarni, whose pencil had immortalized the “chicards” and the decent of the Courtille. Thus, it must have had a more joyful, nosier, and more bohemian atmosphere than the ordinary masked balls. Many artists were in attendance, followed by a whole accompaniment of models and art students who, around midnight, began to make a huge racket.

Some of the details about the artists were cut from the de mattos translation. I’m assuming this was because they are more specifically french cultural details and references that de mattos or the publisher thought wouldn’t have been obvious to anglophone readers without context. But they are really fun details, so I am going to give them the footnote they deserve (honestly this was a whole can of worms that I was not expecting so please come on this wild ride with me).

Paul Gavarni

Paul Gavarni was the pen name of Sulpice Guillaume Chevalier who was a really famous French illustrator/caricaturist. He did a lot of satire cartoons in the newspapers as well as book illustrations for authors such as Honoré de Balzac, one of Leroux’s favourite authors.

Honoré Daumier

Leroux doesn’t give us a name for the artist whose birthday is being celebrated at the masquerade, however, he does tell us that he uses a similar style to Gavarni and that he was known for drawing the “chicards” and the “descent of the Courtille,” which has led me to the artist Honoré Daumier, who was another very famous illustrator/caricaturist, and whose birthday falls on February 26, which is usually right before the time that lent begins (marked by Shrovetide).

In 1878, there was an exhibition of his work at the 1878 World Fair/Universal Exposition, which Victor Hugo was the president of. February 1878 was also Daumier’s 70th birthday and there were several articles in the news discussing his work and contributions to French art.

Source: Gallica/BNF

This article was published on Jan 5, 1878 in L’Illustration (coincidentally also the magazine where Leroux would later publish The Mystery of the Yellow Room). It talks about his connections to Gavarni, shares a quote from Balzac comparing him to Michelangelo, and details his love of boating and how he eventually lost his sight.

Can of Worms 1: What are the “chicards”?

In English the cultural equivalent of a Chicard is a harlequin or jester of sorts, kind of like Pierrot, a clown character used in commedia dell’arte. The Chicard was essentially a character that would be dressed up in a crazy random costume, characterized by a hat with a tall feather, and would perform dances at the Paris carnivals in the mid 19th century. The costume was created by Alexandre Lévêque and took on the nickname Chicard because of its fashion or “chic.”

A series of different characters emerged at this time, each with their own associations and characteristic costume. Chicard was considered to be a very wild and expressive merchant, while Pritchard was more serious. There was also Queen Pomare and Mogador, and the rival of Chicard, Balochard. People began to dress as these characters and throw large parties where they would dance and parade in wild, dramatic, and often crude ways under the anonymity of their costumes.

In 1842 both Gavarni and Daumier illustrated a book called Physiologie du chicard which documents the idiosyncrasies of this character along with caricatures.

Can of Worms 2: What is the decent of the Courtille?

The “Descente de la Courtille” is essentially a parade that took place in Paris in the mid 19th century that was similar to Mardi Gras or Brazilian Carnival. On Ash Wednesday, people would get drunk and dress up in costumes and then parade from the city gates of Paris down through the streets to Place de l'Hôtel-de-Ville.

The ouvreuse (lit. “opener”) is a female usher in charge of a box at the opera. They were wholly female in the 19th century and wore black dresses and caps with pink ribbons that marked their profession. They sold programs and flowers or bouquets to patrons, and they were known for their keys and little foot stools, which they could rent to patrons for a few extra cents. They were also a trope in French media, from their depiction in books to songs to newspaper caricatures. As a result, there were a lot of stereotypes surrounding these figures and the way they were used in French literature.

The Trope

They were stereotyped as older women who were poor, uneducated, and stingy. They were often depicted as being the mother of one or more dancers at the Opera and were also sometimes depicted as former dancers or choir members themselves. They were thought of as rude and greedy, always listening in on conversations, gossiping, and generally considered to know everything about everyone's private business. They were portrayed as asking for tips for every service, from providing programs to hanging up coats and umbrellas to lending their little stool to patrons. There were songs dedicated to their supposed greed, complaining about them charging for every little service and constantly nagging patrons. The stool in particular featured in many of them, as patrons resented the box keepers for charging for their stools. However, it was also known that paying for a box keeper’s stool would gain their favour and allow you privileges such as the best seats and better service.

We see this in Leroux’s novel when the managers are questioning Mme Giry about why Erik requested a stool, as it was seen as sucking up or giving in to the box keeper’s pressure. Erik does it to win the favour and loyalty of Mme Giry, in addition to his generous tips and purchases of flowers. He knows how the power dynamics work in the opera house, and by renting the stool from her and buying flowers from her, he’s shown her some small courtesies that were very obvious at the time, but much more obscure now. This is also why the managers are so baffled, because it was so often portrayed as a way that box keepers extorted money, so it wouldn’t make sense to them to have someone buy these things from Mme Giry without someone (a wife, for example) to give them to.

The Reality

The image of the box keeper in French media is heavily steeped in sexism and misogyny. Box keepers worked in poor conditions with poorly lit rooms, poor ventilation, and poor air quality from all the gas lamps. The corridors where they waited for patrons were often too hot or too cold, and as a result they were often sick. They were looked down on by most of the other opera staff and punished for patrons’ complaints, usually by suspension, the length of which varied based on the offense, anything from rudeness, to asking for too many tips, to being drunk on the job.

Box keeper positions were in high demand and very competitive. Private theatres required them to pay a costly deposit to get the position and sometimes even required the box keepers to pay monthly to keep their positions. Many also worked as concierge at other theatres during the day (as Mme Giry does in the book). They were rarely former dancers and often worked multiple jobs as nannies, chambermaids, and domestic servants to make ends meet. The pay of a box keeper was entirely reliant on tips, and they did not receive enough to make a living wage. Most box keepers would make an average of 4-5 francs a night, depending on the theatre and the social class of those whom they served. In high-end theatres they might make 10 francs per night.

Some of them lived at the opera house (as did young dancers and other staff who lived too far to be able to travel daily), while most lived nearby. They were generally women who could read and write, and some were professors, teachers, or students. Some spoke several languages, which helped with foreign patrons. Box keepers were often middle-aged women between the ages of 40-60, with some in their 30s as well, rather than elderly women, as they were required to be constantly moving and did not often get to sit. Many of them were also married, rather than the spinsters or widows they’re often portrayed as, as they would take on the position to supplement their husband’s income.

I wanted to make a post about this for a while because of some misconceptions circulating surrounding the Persian’s hat. This post is not intended as a call out, but rather as an educational resource. I hope that by making the information more accessible, it will encourage people to look deeper into the histories and cultures depicted in Phantom and stop some of the orientalism unknowingly perpetuated in the fandom as a result.

In the book, the Persian is described as wearing an astrakhan cap, which is accurate to the time period and Persian culture that Leroux was referencing. From 1812 it was mandatory for Persian officials as well, and various styles of it were seen throughout the Qajar era. It also makes sense that the Persian would continue to wear it in France, as it was acceptable in dress codes of the time for foreigners to replace the European top hat with the headwear from their country.

(Illustration of Raoul and the Persian by André Castaigne from 1911 depicting the astrakhan cap)

(Photograph from the late 19th century of Naser al-Din Shah and his attendants wearing the astrakhan cap)

We also see the Persian depicted in art, even in official illustrated editions of the book, wearing a red fez:

(Illustration of Raoul and the Persian by Greg Hildebrandt from 1990 depicting the red fez)

This is where the misconceptions come in. The red fez (or tarboush) is a hat that was worn in the Ottoman empire during the 19th century and was a political and cultural signifier of nationalism and loyalty to the Ottoman empire. Persian officials did not wear the red fez, as they had their own headwear (the kolah/astrakhan cap), and the Persian empire and Ottoman empire were rivals at the time. (However, similar styles of hat to the "fez" style have been worn in Persia at different time periods). Depictions of the Persian from POTO in a fez have unfortunately suffered from orientalism that conflates Persian, Arab, and Turkish culture and history.

This is still an issue in modern research. This book chapter from 2021 ("Modernism and the Politics of Dress" from Social Histories in Iran) still reports this incorrectly, claiming that the fez was made part of Iran's official dress in 1873:

However, if you follow the sources that it cited, it says "fez-like:"

And this article in turn cites this, which again talks about a similar hat to the fez, but which is not the fez, simply comparing the dress reform to those taking place in the Ottoman empire:

Unfortunately, this is where the trail ended for me because the source it cited was a memoir by Abdollah Mostowfi (The Administrative and Social History of the Qajar Period):

At the time this book was written, the source still hadn't been translated into English. Today there is an English translation, but it has no digitized version, a hardcopy of the book costs over 100$, and the closest physical copy I could find in a library was a 3 hour drive away at a university.

If you'd like to learn more, Encyclopaedia Iranica is a great resource for anglophone content on Persian history. This page has a detailed breakdown of the clothing worn in the Qajar era and citations for further research.

In the late 19th century, Persian orthography was not yet standardized, and there was no standard romanization from the Persian alphabet to languages that use roman characters like French or English. When Leroux wrote Phantom, he would have had to make up his own romanization of the word داروغه based on the sounds in the word or use one from an existing dictionary.

This means that when you google the term “daroga” today, it’s often difficult to find more information about it, and often what does come up is about India or Mongolia. The word did come from Mongolian, but it was also very much used in the Persian empire. Today, there are different ways of spelling the word that better reflect the pronunciation in Persian. On top of this, romanizations often differ depending on which language you are using the word in, as different languages pronounce vowels differently.

An example from a Persian-French dictionary from the late 1800s romanizing and translating “daroga” into French. In English, the romanizations “darugha” and “darougheh” are a bit more common today when referencing "daroga" in the context of Persia or Iran. These romanizations help keep the vowel sound for و as “oo” rather than “oh” which is closer to its proper pronunciation.

IPA: [d̪ɒːɾuːˈɣe]

They functioned as more than just the chief of police. Depending on the city and time period, their roles varied. They were in charge of managing the bazaar (central market), catching thieves and punishing them, making sure that the vendors didn’t sell illegal goods, in some cases also levying taxes, and serving as a sort of mayoral figure. They also managed guards who would keep watch over palaces and the bazaar at night.

By the time the Qajar era came around (1789-1925), the role of “daroga” was greatly diminished. They had reputations for being corrupt and collecting money for their own benefits, and a lot of their duties were distributed among other officials. At the end of the 19th century, they were pretty much obsolete, as the shah sought to modernize, and eventually created a more westernized police force to replace the old system.

You can find more information in the following places:

Fiveable - a short list of basic facts

Encyclopaedia Iranica - in depth exploration of the organization of Persian cities throughout history (this site is a high quality resource for finding information on the history of Persia in English)

@wheel-of-fish graciously provided me with these photos of a prop program for Il Muto. I was looking at the page on the left and noticed what looked like a faded stamp in the right corner.

It was vaguely familiar and made me think of the stamps that the french archives use to mark their scans. And since we know that phantom has used actual archival material to make their props in the past, I figured down once more to the BnF we go!

Aaaand sure enough!

There it is! Stamp and all! It's a real advertisement from June 6, 1867.

Thank you so much fish for letting me share these pictures! If anyone else has any phantom props with material like this, and you want me to go poking around in the archives to see if I can find their origins let me know!

Leroux provides details on Erik’s time in the Persian empire in the epilogue and throughout the book. This includes working with the shah, the shah’s favourite “little sultana,” and fighting against Afghanistan. While it’s impossible to say for sure what Leroux’s intentions were when writing the book, these are details we can work with to find a hypothetical historical timeline for Erik’s time in Persia.

From 1856-1857, the Persian empire was involved in a series of conflicts centered around British influence in the region as well as the state of Herat, which was at the time part of Afghanistan. This puts Erik in Persia in roughly the mid 1850s.

The shah at the time was Naser al-Din Shah of the Qajar dynasty, he was the shah from 1848-1896. He came to power in 1848 at age 17, and in 1856 would have been about 25. The shah was also a deeply paranoid man, and his advisors and family members fueled his paranoia. People were constantly trying to assassinate him, and they eventually succeeded in 1896.

The title of "sultana" (or saltaneh) is a title that was conveyed on members of the royal family indiscriminate of gender (persian/farsi has no gendered pronouns), and as such is not a reliable way to discover who the "little sultana" would be, because there are hundreds of them.

Source: Administrative and Social History of the Qajar Period v.1

However, one clue Leroux gives us is that this is the shah's "favourite," thus the most likely candidate for the "little sultana" is his favourite wife, Jeyran, a commoner whom he met in 1851 and gave the title Forough ol-Saltaneh. He married her out of love and never fully recovered from her premature death 10 years after they met (she was 28/29 when she died). She was trained as a singer and musician, and was fiercely independent. She would dress as a man to go hunting, and was very involved in the politics of the court.

Source: Pivot of the Universe

Erik’s age at the time of the main events in the book is usually estimated to be in his late 40s or early 50s, which means that Erik, the shah, and Jeyran were likely around the same age or within a few years of each other while he was in Persia.

I made this pdf document using the two texts of Phantom from Project Gutenberg so I could keep track of what de Mattos left out of the original novel (none of this is my own translation). I thought I'd share it since I know others were also interested in seeing just how much was cut/changed, and it's nice to be able to search with ctrl + f.

I've laid them out side by side, lining up sections by paragraph:

Chapter titles are hyperlinked with the table of contents and footnotes are hyperlinked with their place in the text.

Please feel free to share freely as both texts are in the public domain.