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The initials RC
Apr. 14th, 2020 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
igenlodeThe narrator of "The Phantom of the Opera" claims as supporting 'evidence' for his story that he found the initials RC among those left on the wall of the Communards' dungeon where Erik imprisoned Raoul. But unless Raoul was a very quick worker (and if we are to believe Erik's story, the young man was at best semi-conscious when he was taken to be chained up in the dungeon: le parfum de Mazenderan l'avait rendu mou comme une chiffe) he simply didn't have time to make any such carving.
Erik tells the Persian that, having made certain Raoul was in a place where no-one could hear any cries for help, he returned to the side of Christine, who was waiting for him. Then they go through all the forehead kissing business and weep together, and as a sign of his changed intentions towards her Erik goes off to fetch Raoul on the spot. Raoul can't have been in the dungeon for any longer than the time of that tearful interview (and was presumably still fairly groggy from 'le parfum de Mazenderan' when he was removed from it!)
He could just about have managed to draw his initials faintly on the wall with some rough object, I suppose. He certainly couldn't have managed the sort of carving you see on the walls of the Tower of London. I've tried adding my own initials to the parapet of a slate bridge alongside hundreds of others, and was seriously impressed by the time and workmanship displayed by the Victorians in contrast to our own efforts, which would have washed/brushed away in a couple of days -- and that was soft slate. Even the relatively plain WWII initials represented some soldier sitting down with his pocket-knife and an hour or so to spare on a sunny afternoon, rather than simply scratching over and over again with a bit of stone.
Given that the dungeon walls were underground and not exposed to any weathering, I suppose a rough whitish scratch might have survived thirty years for the narrator to find it -- though it's hard to imagine that it would be visible alongside carvings made by prisoners with endless days on their hands. But under the circumstances, to be honest, it's hard to imagine Raoul quietly sitting down and setting out to write his name on the walls immediately after he'd been chained up in the depths of the Opera (quite possibly without light, unless Erik was feeling generous). It's the sort of thing you do when you're reconciled to a long imprisonment and are looking for occupation, not in the first moments of desperation, with the woman you've risked your life to rescue being subjected to unknown degradations at the hands of your mutual captor...
Frankly, I think Leroux had lost track of the timeline. Not for the first time :-p
Erik tells the Persian that, having made certain Raoul was in a place where no-one could hear any cries for help, he returned to the side of Christine, who was waiting for him. Then they go through all the forehead kissing business and weep together, and as a sign of his changed intentions towards her Erik goes off to fetch Raoul on the spot. Raoul can't have been in the dungeon for any longer than the time of that tearful interview (and was presumably still fairly groggy from 'le parfum de Mazenderan' when he was removed from it!)
He could just about have managed to draw his initials faintly on the wall with some rough object, I suppose. He certainly couldn't have managed the sort of carving you see on the walls of the Tower of London. I've tried adding my own initials to the parapet of a slate bridge alongside hundreds of others, and was seriously impressed by the time and workmanship displayed by the Victorians in contrast to our own efforts, which would have washed/brushed away in a couple of days -- and that was soft slate. Even the relatively plain WWII initials represented some soldier sitting down with his pocket-knife and an hour or so to spare on a sunny afternoon, rather than simply scratching over and over again with a bit of stone.
Given that the dungeon walls were underground and not exposed to any weathering, I suppose a rough whitish scratch might have survived thirty years for the narrator to find it -- though it's hard to imagine that it would be visible alongside carvings made by prisoners with endless days on their hands. But under the circumstances, to be honest, it's hard to imagine Raoul quietly sitting down and setting out to write his name on the walls immediately after he'd been chained up in the depths of the Opera (quite possibly without light, unless Erik was feeling generous). It's the sort of thing you do when you're reconciled to a long imprisonment and are looking for occupation, not in the first moments of desperation, with the woman you've risked your life to rescue being subjected to unknown degradations at the hands of your mutual captor...
Frankly, I think Leroux had lost track of the timeline. Not for the first time :-p
