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W.H. Auden referred to biographers as ‘gossip-writers and voyeurs calling themselves scholars’. And, addressing the claim that knowledge of a writer's life throws light on his works, Auden wrote that biographies were ‘always superfluous and usually in bad taste’, and argued that ‘no knowledge of the raw ingredients would explain the peculiar flavour of the verbal dishes that the … public were invited to taste’. He declared emphatically that the subject's private life ‘is, or should be, of no concern to anybody except himself, his family and his friends’. Auden's biographer, Humphrey Carpenter, knew of and quoted from Auden's objections, but argued his way round them and set his course undeterred.
Freud's views on biography were every bit as forthright. Addressing Arnold Zweig in a letter written shortly after his eightieth birthday, Freud expressed alarm at the threat that the novelist wanted to become his biographer. Making plain his surprise, he added with no little vigour:
you, who have so much better and more important things to do, you who can establish monarchs and who can survey the brutal folly of mankind from a lofty vantage point; no, I am far too fond of you to permit such a thing. Anyone who writes a biography is committed to lies, concealments, hypocrisy, flattery and even to hiding his own lack of understanding, for biographical truth does not exist, and if it did we could not use it.
And many years before, in telling his fiancée Martha Bernays of his decision to destroy all his papers except for family letters, he added: ‘Let the biographers labour and toil, we will not make it too easy for them.’