Great people, however, may feel a temporary, fleeting sensation of elation (as with many narcotics) when great and all its glory is conferred upon them by, say, adoring fans, but when the curtain falls, the applause silences, and the venue empties, what then? What happens in the absence of observers? The great blackface singer Al Jolson (circa early 1920s) was deeply affected when the curtain fell. He struggled with a fear of being alone, and the audience's attention was essential to his emotional stability. Jolson famously prolonged his shows, continuing to entertain the crowd even after the final curtain. In one instance, he continued to sing for an additional two hours to keep the audience from leaving the theater. The applause and adulation Jolson received on stage was missing off stage and the resulting conflict contributed to Jolson’s reputation as a philanderer, wife beater, compulsive gambler, intellectual property thief, and one filled with overweening pride and selfishness. Off stage, and unbeknownst to the audience, Jolson was an awful person. He was, in a word, a narcissist, a trait not uncommon to celebrities of all flavors–actors, singers, athletes, world leaders–who often resort to destructive and self-destructive behavior (alcohol, drugs), including suicide, in their neverending struggle to fill the great abyss. Anonymity is the bane of narcissists. Fame and infamy are pointless in a vacuum.
On the face of it, the antidote to the conflict between on-stage and off-stage, between adoring fans and empty seats, seems apparent: Never let the curtain fall. Keep the fans entertained and applauding ad infinitum at all costs, even at the expense of the celebrity’s well-being and sanity, which is tragic enough. However, the narcissist who inhabits a position of power is another animal altogether. Even though they may possess a modicum of humanity, it is likely fragmented, defensive, or filtered through a need for validation and protection from shame which, as history testifies, becomes a tragedy for humanity, often on immense scales, often brutally. One need not be a student of history to know the names of these notorious narcissistic megalomaniacs. They are etched into our collective subconscious and called to consciousness at the mere mention of despot, dictator, fascist, and authoritarian: Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot. Paradoxically, history is always now. Time flows and stops for no one. Powerful narcissists abound today, and, given their penchant for the spotlight, we know who they are.
Character cannot be cured. There is no corrective for narcissism, self-aggrandizement, megalomania–nor for the adoring, giddy, glassy-eyed fans who feed and sustain the Beasts they themselves create from their own collective identity in the same way man created mythological gods in man’s own image. There are no cures for tyrants and gods, only aftermath: wreckage, decay, and eventual oblivion.
Or, as Percy Bysshe Shelley warns in “Ozymandias”:
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
