Significant Moments: Yes, I Am Mythical!

As one who aired his views on all and sundry, . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . Wagner . . .
Rexford G. Tugwell, The Democratic Roosevelt.
. . . was forever being quoted. Without even wanting to, he constantly became embroiled in public controversies that made him the subject and object of journalistic debate—and, coincidentally, "good box office." He once wrote to [a friend] from Tribschen: "Of myself there's nothing much to tell, since so much is said about me. If a man pondered from dawn till dusk how to set about making a scandal of himself, he couldn't set about it one whit better than I. I think I'm very much envied for my skill in that respect."
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
In castle and in humble hut,
the evil slander ended not.
Richard Wagner, Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg.
At first the town gossips said of him, 'He's simply out to make money.' When it was found that he enriched the community before enriching himself they said, 'He has political ambitions.' This seemed the more likely since he was religious and attended church service, which was considered highly commendable at that time.
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables.
It is interesting in the first place to note that . . . he makes no attempt whatever to deny that his activities in May, 1849, warranted his being placed on trial. He does not protest his perfect innocence: he only pleads now, after ten years, he is "no longer, politically speaking, the same man", . . . and that he cannot take any steps that might possibly lead to his imprisonment for "an act of folly long ago repented."
Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.
He went to early mass every Sunday. The local deputy, always on his guard against competition, viewed this religious tendency with some apprehension. He had himself been a member of the corps legislatif under Fouch¾, the Duke of Otranto, whose creature and friend he had been. In private he was amiably derisive of God. But when he learned that Madeleine, the wealthy manufacturer, went to seven o'clock mass, he scented a possible rival and resolved to outdo him. He engaged a Jesuit confessor and went to high mass and vespers. Political rivalry in those days was, almost literally, a race to the alter-steps. The poor, as well as God, benefited by the deputy's misgivings, for he also endowed two hospital beds—making twelve in all.
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables.
He was fortunate in finding there, among the civic authorities of the little place, some men of the utmost disinterestedness and highest probity who from the beginning made his cause their own.
Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.
In 1819 it was rumored in the town that on the recommendation of the prefect, and in consideration of his public services, the king was to nominate M. Madeleine mayor of Montreuil-sur-mer. Those who had declared him to be a political careerist seized upon this with the delight men always feel in exclaiming, 'I told you so.' The town was in a state of high excitement. And the rumor turned out to be correct. A few days later the nomination appeared in Le Moniteur. The next day M. Madeleine refused it.
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables.
Still, suspicion was in the air, and there was much talk.
Mark Twain, The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg.
The hospitable city fathers were eager to attract money . . .
Robert Gutman, Richard Wagner: The Man, His Mind, and His Music.
. . . to the whole community . . .
Mark Twain, The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg.
. . . but most of the population seemed less than enthusiastic about a new neighbor who had earned such a notorious reputation . . .
Robert Gutman, Richard Wagner: The Man, His Mind, and His Music.
During the same year, 1819, the products of Madeleine's new manufacturing process were displayed at the Industrial Exhibition, and acting on the jury's report the king appointed the inventor to be a Chevalier of the Legion d'honneur. This led to a new theory in the town—'So that's what he was really after!' But M. Madeleine refused to accept the Grand Cross.
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables.
He paused. "Well! I'm sure that my enemies would love to hear that!" he said, laughing.
Monica Crowley, Nixon in Winter.
Decidedly the man was an enigma. The know-alls saved their faces by saying, 'Well anyway he's up to something.'
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables.
His political enemies were at their foul work again, scheming to get rid of him, exaggerating some of his "eccentricities" and inventing others, and talking once more about his "madness."
Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.
When he was seen to be making money they had said, 'He's a business man.' When he scattered his money in charity they said, 'He's a careerist.' When he refused to accept honors they said, 'He's an adventurer.' When he rejected polite society they said, 'He's a peasant.'
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables.
It was a process that had already begun in childhood . . .
Alice Miller, The Untouched Key.
I noticed that Demian exerted equal fascination over the other students. I hadn't told anyone about his version of the story of Cain, but the others seemed to be interested in him, too. At any rate, many rumors were in circulation about the "new boy." If I could remember them all now, each one would throw some light on him and could be interpreted. I remember first that Demian's mother was reported to be wealthy and also, supposedly, neither she nor her son ever attended church. One story had it that they were Jewish but they might well have been secret Mohammedans. Then there was Max Demian's legendary physical prowess. But this could be corroborated: when the strongest boy in Demian's class had taunted him, calling him a coward when he refused to fight back, Demian had humiliated him. Those who were present told that Demian had grasped the boy with one hand by the neck and squeezed until the boy went pale; afterwards, the boy had slunk away and had not been able to use his arm for a whole week.
Hermann Hesse, Demian.
His schoolfellows cannot have found it easy to cope with these alternating bouts of irascibility and exuberance, and the stupid ones among them must have detested him for his mordant sarcasm.
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
One evening some boys even claimed that he was dead. For a time everything, even the most extravagant assertions were believed. Then everyone seemed to have their fill of Demian for a while, though not much later gossip again flourished: some boys reported that Demian was intimate with girls and that he "knew everything."
Hermann Hesse, Demian.
I should be unable to muster a dozen friends, although I have enemies by the dozen and of all shapes and sizes—a veritable pattern book.
Sigmund Freud, Letter to Eduard Silberstein.
There is a certain prurient aspect to posterity's curiosity over the intimate dealings of the man whose genius lay in probing the most intimate secrets of others. But perhaps nowhere else in history, scholars note, has a scientific discovery been so interwoven with the mental life of the discoverer. Thus everything that happened to Freud, everything he felt, saw, did and said—and naturally everything that he did not feel, see, do or say—takes on significance for scholars tracing the development of psychoanalysis.
Ralph Blumenthal, Scholars Seek the Hidden Freud in Newly Emerging Letters.
I remember once, when we saw a silent film of Freud speaking in the last year of his life to a childhood friend, Eissler wondered if it would be possible to analyze the movements of the mouth to discover what words Freud was uttering at the time. No word from Freud, written, remembered, or recorded was ever trivial for Eissler.
J. Moussaieff Masson, Final Analysis.
Concerning this sorcerer dark things are said. No one has seen him: he is known only by his power. That power is magic. . . . Who is Klingsor? Vague, incomprehensible rumours. Nothing else is known of him. Maybe he is known to old Titurel? But nothing can be gathered from him: dulled by his great age, he is kept alive only by the wondrous power of the Grail.
Richard Wagner, Parzival: First Prose Sketch.
Kurt Eissler was clearly a member of the inner circle of psychoanalysis. Moreover, he was rumored (falsely, as it turned out) to have been close to Anna Freud's father as well.
J. Moussaieff Masson, Final Analysis.
Other rumors, such as always gather around a controversial name, have as little substance as that one.
Hermann Hesse, Klingsor's Last Summer.
There were many rumors circulating about Eissler, who was called the pope of orthodox analysis. He would give no interviews. He would not allow himself to be photographed. He was a hermit.
J. Moussaieff Masson, Final Analysis.
Many years ago, when I began to be intrigued by the problem of gossip, I retrieved instances of gossip about myself in my home town, where it was not difficult to do, and thus was able to assay the truth value that may be considered in detraction. . . .

I have formed the conviction that even in instances in which the content of a detraction seems totally alien to the victim in all respects—that is, no link with his objective behavior as well as subjective (psychic) reality can be discovered—the defamation is a derivative of the defamed person's most deeply repressed. The derogation then would contain the return of the repressed, which has found no previous outlet whatsoever in the defamed victim's imagery, ideation, action, symptom, or other kinds of psychopathology. . . .

One may vary Nietzsche's statement and say: The slanderer says, "That is what you are." The slandered says, "No, I am not that," but an imperspicuous voice gives assent. According to this construction, man can elude the voice of his unconscious, but not the voice of the slanderer.
K.R. Eissler, Three Instances of Injustice.

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In late July 1987 a coworker of mine, Daniel D. Cutler, at the Washington, DC law firm of Hogan & Hartson wrote me the following note:

Gary,

For the first three months I worked with you I saw you probably a total of three hours. When I did see you some of the things you said made me feel uncomfortable. I don't "understand" you. Yes, you are definitely an enigma.

Moreover, you are the subject of occasional conversation, like everyone else. I don't believe any of these behind the back conversations are malicious or intended to paint anyone in a "hideous hue." People talk and laugh about people and circumstances they don't understand or find unusual.

I think I understand one thing: you feel and see too much sometimes. Sensitivity and strong intellect when taken too far will tear your guts out. That's some free homespun bullshit but while lacking substance it still smells right.

However, your knowledge of this scenario exceeds mine. Personally, psychology depresses me because all summed together everyone consciously or unconsciously puts themselves into positions where they are unhappy, neglected, paranoid, degraded and on and on . . . And most of us lack the will to extricate ourselves from this state of being. We cling to that certain feeling because it is constant and predictable. These big brains we have demand it.

Anyway, rest assured that myths are exaggerated and distorted, including yours. Nevertheless, the dull Daniel or plain Jane rarely have myths written or spoken in their name.