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THE SUBJECT OF PSYCHOANALYTIC BIOGRAPHY ought to sound alarm-bells in the minds of fair-minded observers. So much tendentions stuff has appeared throughout this century, under the banner of "applying" either Freud's ideas or the concepts of some of his disciples, that neutral witnesses with a concern for impartial history are entitled to be wary of what looks like zealots prosletizing in behalf of their beliefs. But if we start by asking the question of whether psychoanalytic biography still exists, and if so whether it deserves to continue or thrive, I am hoping that the topic will hold the attention even of those most likely to scoff.
Curiously enough Freud's most ardent so-called defenders are apt not to want to think on his own biographical studies. It is one of the few subjects on which orthodox analysts might be relieved not to have to begin with Freud. Yet I think that his studies of Leonardo and also Moses, and even his book with William C. Bullitt on Woodrow Wilson, need not cause nearly as much embarrassment as has been thought; although Freud's few comments on biography-writing occasionally get quoted, his own biographical efforts rarely appear in the professional literature (Roazen, 1968). If one approaches Freud not in search of infallibility, but as a model of originality and daring, then his biographies begin to look as considerable as anything else he did. The Leonardo book, for example, has many things wrong with it that any beginning student ought now to be able to point out. But it remains a remarkable work of art that will nonetheless endure in intellectual history. Almost half a century later Erik H. Erikson's Young Man Luther had its own flaws, yet we would be lucky to have more such creative achievements (Roazen, 1976a).