T. S. Eliot, standing on his doorstep, with his Boston Evening Transcript in his hand, ‘turned wearily as he would turn to nod goodbye to Rochefoucauld if the street were time and he at the end of the street’. The same weary gaze characterizes the attitude of most psychiatrists towards important figures in the past history of their subject. A crude indication of this state of affairs is the total absence of any historical questions in most psychiatric examinations. For its jobbing practitioners, psychiatry might as well exist in a historical vacuum. And why not? History has its own snares and delusions. Henry Ford called it ‘bunk’. Alfred North Whitehead remarked that ‘a science which hesitates to forget its founders is lost’. And Karl Popper, who has done a thorough demolition job on the concept of ‘historicism’, has warned us that ‘if our civilization is to survive, we must break with the habit of deference to great men’. In contrast to psychiatrists, students of art study its history for at least a year. If we regarded psychiatry as an art, how does our history look then?