Are narcissists naturally drawn to the study of famous scientists? Possibly.
It would be hard to claim that Robert Westfall or Janet Brown, well recognized historians of Newton and Darwin respectively, are ‘narcissist’. Their books read like systematic and thorough attempts to understand the complexity of their historical characters, which were certainly complex. For all of his achievement, Newton was not an easy going fellow, had few friends, and at times a most unmerciful public authority. In what is the most comprehensive biography of Newton, Westfall seems almost seems to be regretful of having undertaking the study, which took a far greater cost than he had initially imagined. There are no such regrets in Darwin’s most comprehensive biographer, and like Westfall, Mrs. Browne has dedicated decades of her life on her figure. An enormous sacrifice must be made by the biographer who decides to study a cultural hero at a global level.
That being said, one cannot help but notice that the study of the famous—if successful—will itself make the biographer famous himself. One cannot help notice with some amusement how Walter Isaacson’s famous biographies: Benjamin Franklin, Albert Einstein, and Steve Jobs, have propelled Prof. Isaacson onto the ‘world stage’. Steve Jobs’s death was followed by very many interviews of Mr. Isaacson, some in which he tried to ever so slightly assume the mantle of Mr. Jobs—something which is nearly impossible to do given the sheer brilliance and character of our figure. It is certainly the case that others who have studied Einstein, for example, have done to so gain he public spotlight of the figure, so as if to imbue their personas with some of the light of their subject. It might be for this very reason why Steve Jobs selected Mr. Isaacson as his biographer, but we speculate.
The problem with this particular focus and motivation—each person certainly is free to do with their lives what they please—is that it might be termed ‘anti-historical’. It is, curiously enough, a return backwards with regard to the spirit of history. The earliest of histories—particularly those of ancient empires—were focused on famous political figures, as these had the wherewithal to have their ‘names carved in stone’, as Agamemnon famously states in the movie “Troy”. In this, the earliest of histories tended to be ‘political’, but only because powerful men by nature were ‘political figures’: kings and rulers. Thus although the modern focus has veered away from the political, and onto the scientific, the ‘hero worship’ or ‘hero focus’ thus tends to be seen. Einstein achieved greatness in his life, was always recognized as such, and was never publicly stained by any controversy or conflict—with the minor exception of World War II, but which only landed him a position in the famous Princeton Institute of Advanced study.
Such is not the case with other famous scientific figures, particularly that of Galileo Galileo. We might say much about the fame and renown of Galileo, but it is certainly the case that his life was not untainted by tragedy. His conflict with the Catholic Church, more complex than what a brief allusion would imply, led to a great deal of both private and public suffering. As Dava Sobel has noted, early on in life he was afflicted with a strange disease; some scholars as Richard Stillman claimed it to be rheumatism, while Sobel's describes an incident early on in life where two friends die. While Galileo survives, he is forever touched by the incident, curiously a trait which is also explored by Janet Brown is her biography of Darwin. Darwin survived his many setback in his ordeals throughout Latin America, but was not untouched by them; as Galileo, he would forever carry the incident with him. In this sense, one might suggest that the ‘feminine touch’ to biographies are endearing analysis of the background conditions through which our heroes had to endure, and in this sense are by nature ‘empathic’—a trait which other biographies distinctly lack.
The well regarded Annales School of the 20th century distinctly broke with this tradition to study society as an aggregate. As a cursory Britannica notes,
“Annales school promoted a new form of history, replacing the study of leaders with the lives of ordinary people and replacing examination of politics, diplomacy, and wars with inquiries into climate, demography, agriculture, commerce, technology, transportation, and communication, as well as social groups and mentalities.” (https://www.britannica.com/topic/Annales-school)
While we are far from seeing a general return to a ‘hero-worship’ historiography, it is always important to remember ‘history’s own history’. The historian’s focus should always be on the aggregate, regardless of whether the actual topic of his study is a detailed biography or a specific incident. He (or she) must have an eye always focused on how the topic of his analysis fit into the larger frame of things. Other wise, as Joyce Appleby, Lynn Hunt and Margaret Jacob point out in ‘Telling the Truth about History’, the historian merely becomes an antiquarian, overvaluing specific objects and personalities at the cost of understanding them.