Chapter 3
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The lyrics of Think of Me in this chapter are the Las Vegas version. Sierra Boggess sang this version in Las Vegas and in Phantom 25.
Christine clutched the scarf as she began to sing. "Denk an mich, von mir liebevoll zu denken, wenn wir Abschied habe…" Her voice was nearly crippled by nerves. Her gray eyes darted about, and she fought to keep from shaking. Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Christine felt as if every person in the world had stopped to stare at her. "Erinnere dich an mich, jeder so oft, versprich mir, Sie werden es versuchen." She looked at Meg and the managers, whishing that the stage would open up beneath her and save her from embarrassment. Remember me, every so often, promise me you'll try. Madame Giry banged her cane on the stage, and Christine's head snapped around to meet the ballet instructor's gaze. Her voice cracked.
"Firmin, this is pointless," André muttered.
"Don't fret, André," Firmin said.
"Sing for him, Christine," Madame Giry said so only the ballerina could hear her.
Christine straightened, bringing the scarf around her shoulders. "An diesem Tag, der nicht so fernen Tages," she sang, her voice raising in volume and confidence, "wenn Sie weit weg sind und frei, wenn Sie jemals einen Augenblick, denken Sie einen Moment für mich!" Madame Giry nodded in approval. On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me!
Christine continued to sing the aria, her voice ringing through the auditorium. She hit every note with ease and perfect control. The chorus was silent, and even the stagehands paused to listen. Her voice did not have the power Carlotta had honed after years of experience, but many commented that Christine possessed the voice of an angel. Reyer noted her excellent vibrato, and wondered who her vocal tutor could be. André admitted to Firmin that the chorus girl was quite good; Meg stood apart from the other ballerinas, overjoyed for her friend's success. Madame Giry nodded in approval and looked to Box Five.
Christine triumphed.
Once the initial shock of being chosen to sing as Elissa in the promotional gala for Hannibal had passed, Christine discovered that being the temporary diva of the Opéra Populaire had its drawbacks.
Her Angel made her rehearse the songs that she would sing in the gala countless times, making sure every note was effortless. Madame Giry taught her the choreography required for Elissa, and she practiced for hours. The seamstresses of the opera house scrambled to alter Carlotta's costume to fit Christine, and she was subjected to standing still for an eternity while they pinned the heavy silk. The wooden head that she would carry was heavier than she expected, and she dropped it once in rehearsals. The crown that Carlotta had worn was twice as heavy as the headdress Christine had worn as a slave girl, and every time she wore it, Christine felt as if she would topple over from the weight. The seamstresses did the best they could with Carlotta's costume, but it was still too big in the chest, and she was constantly having to pull up the plunging neckline. The jewelry that she wore as Elissa was heavy, weighing her down even more. And she was still intimidated by the elephant.
One good thing about being a diva was that she was given a private dressing room. She had expected to use Carlotta's room, but instead was given the use of a long-forgotten dressing room in a corner of the Opéra Populaire. The managers clearly were not willing to spend a large amount of money on their temporary diva, and it took her a few extra moments to run between her dressing room and the stage. However, Christine was grateful all the same. It was a bit dusty, with few but rather fine furnishings; a full-length mirror stood on the back wall. Late at night, she would have the opportunity to have lessons with the Angel in relative privacy; a much preferred change from the busy chorus girls' dressing room.
Literally overnight, Christine was transformed from ballerina to prima donna. As her dresser, Manon Poirier, an older woman who had served as the star dresser for Carlotta and the divas before the Italian for decades, finished lacing up the elaborate gown, Christine was struck by the enormity of what she was about to do. She, a nameless chorus girl only the night before, was now about the sing for thousands in the promotional gala of Hannibal. If she performed well – and providing Carlotta did not return – Christine would be chosen to perform as Elissa for the full run of the production.
It was a terrifying thought.
Manon went to the door, and Christine said, "Tell them I'll be there in a moment." She smiled to her dresser, and Manon left. Christine waited a moment, and then said softly, "Angel?"
"Yes, Christine?"
She sank onto the stool before her vanity, and put her head in her hands, suddenly nervous. "I don't know if I can do this, Angel," she confessed.
"I have faith in you, my Christine. If you have an angel watching over you, then you have nothing to worry about."
"What if I go out there and forget the words? What if-" Christine said, but the Angel of Music interrupted her.
"Do not fear, Christine. The Angel of Music has you under his wing."
Christine stood in the wings, holding the wooden head by thin strips of leather that served in the place of hair. The elephant shifted nervously a few feet behind her as the animal wrangler tried to calm it, and Christine adjusted the heavy crown. As the Hannibal overture began, Christine scanned the audience from her vantage point in the wings. Thousands of people filled the auditorium, but the lights had been arranged in such a way that she could make out only a few faces in the front row. Christine forced herself to breathe as she stepped onstage.
And then her nerves fell away.
She was not Christine Daaé, chorus-girl-turned-prima-donna. She was Elissa, queen of Carthage and exiled princess of Tyre. The audience saw her defiance of Rome, her love for her city of Carthage, and her passion for her lover Hannibal. Her voice rose to incredible heights with ease, her acting heartfelt and heartbreakingly realistic. The great choral scene, in which Elissa welcomed Hannibal to Carthage, went without a hitch; the ballerinas were even able to mask their fear of the elephant. Then the stage cleared, and Christine was left alone for Elissa's grand aria.
The day before when she auditioned to replace Carlotta, she had been tense and anxious as she tried to impress the managers. Now, Christine was confidence itself. She strode across the stage, gray eyes sweeping across the audience with assurance in herself, though she was not vain. Her voice soared to rival an angel's song.
"Und obwohl es ist klar, aber es war immer klar, dass dies nie gemeint war," she sang, extending her arms to the audience as if to plea with them not to forget her. "Wenn Sie jemals einen Moment inne und denken Sie an mich." She turned and went downstage, singing with brilliant vibrato and clear tone. And though it's clear, though it was always clear, that this was never meant to be. If you ever find a moment, stop and think of me.
"Denken Sie an August, als die Welt noch grün! Nicht etwa, wie die Dinge gewesen sein könnte denken!" She trailed the scarf over her shoulder and let it trail behind her as she sang. She brought the scarf to her cheek and paused for a moment, letting the notes and words flow from her. Think of August when the world was green! Don't think about the way things might have been!
Straightening, Christine crossed downstage center, a smile on her lips. "Denk an mich, von mir wachen, stillen denken und resigniert. Eine Hochzeit zu dritt, zu stark versucht, Ihnen aus meinem Kopf gestellt." She brought the scarf around her shoulders. Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. Looking out at the audience, she looked up into the sea of faces in the darkness. "Denk an mich, bitte sagen Sie von mir denken, was Sie sonst noch zu tun, zu wählen. Es wird nie ein Tag, wenn ich nicht an dich zu denken sein!" Christine clasped her hands together, the silk cool between her fingers.
Whirling away, she threw the scarf across her neck and glided across the stage as the interlude began. A smile formed on her lips as the audience applauded. From the managers' box, a chorus of "Brava! Brava!" rang out, but not from André or Firmin. She did not have time to dwell on her unknown admirer, however, as the interlude ended.
"Blumen welken, die Früchte des Sommers verblassen, sie haben ihre Jahreszeiten, so auch wir," she sang, looking up to the managers' box. Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade. They have their seasons, so do we. She could not make out her admirer in the darkness. "Aber bitte versprich mir, dass manchmal, werden Sie denken…" She paused for a moment, and then began to sing the cadenza. But please promise me that sometimes, you will think… Her voice soared to incredible heights, reaching every note effortlessly. The audience held its breath as the climax of the cadenza rang out clear and pure. "Von mir!" she sang, finishing the aria. Of me! Christine threw the scarf in the air and fell to her knees.
The audience erupted.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The reason I decided to write a random section on Christine's dresser, Manon Poirier, is because there were rumors that Gillian Lynne herself, the original choreographer of PotO, was the onstage dresser for Sierra Boggess during Think of Me, Angel of Music, and even in the interlude before Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again (a dresser is someone who helps an actor/actress change into their various costumes). Obviously, Sierra had a normal dresser backstage, but for PotO as Christine, apparently her onstage dresser was Gillian Lynne. These rumors were false – Gillian Lynne never went onstage during the performance until the grand finale. But it would have been awesome all the same.