Einstein

by Philipp Frank

  This attitude must be judged in comparison with that of many professors, who tell their students that they are always occupied with their research and do not like to be disturbed because an interruption might possibly imperil the results of their intensive reflections.

  Just as it is the pride of many people never to have any time, so it has been Einstein’s always to have time. I recall a visit I once paid him on which we decided to visit the astrophysical observatory at Potsdam together. We agreed to meet on a certain bridge in Potsdam, but since I was a good deal of a stranger in Berlin, I said I could not promise to be there at the appointed time. “Oh,” said Einstein, “that makes no difference; then I will wait on the bridge.” I suggested that that might waste too much of his time. “Oh no,” was the rejoinder, “the kind of work I do can be done anywhere. Why should I be less capable of reflecting about my problems on the Potsdam bridge than at home?”

  And this was very characteristic of Einstein. His thoughts flowed like a constant stream. Every conversation that interrupted his thinking was like a small stone thrown in a mighty river, unable to influence its course.

  There was yet another factor that brought Einstein into closer contact with his students. This was his need to clarify his ideas for himself by expressing them aloud and explaining them to others. Thus he often conversed with students about scientific problems and told them his new ideas. But Einstein did not really care whether the listener actually understood what was being explained or not; all that was necessary was that he should not appear too stupid or uninterested. Einstein once had an assistant who helped him with his administrative duties while at the same time completing his own studies in physics. Every day Einstein explained his new ideas to him and it was generally said that if this young man had had only a slight talent, he could have become a very great physicist — few students had ever received such good instruction. But while the student was an intelligent and industrious man and an ardent admirer of Einstein, he did not become a great physicist. The influence of the teacher is not so great as some people believe.

  7. Outbreak of the World War

  Before Einstein had been in Berlin a whole year, the World War broke out in August 1914. Great enthusiasm swept Germany, which to a large extent arose from the feeling that the individual could now merge with the greater whole — the German Empire — and stop living for himself, a feeling that for many people meant a great sense of relief.

  This joy, however, could not be felt by anyone who had any comprehension of public opinion in the great Slavic centers of Austria. In Prague Einstein had witnessed the gradual evolution by which Austrian foreign policy had become an instrument for the attainment of German aims, and consequently Einstein could not share the enthusiasm of the crowd in Berlin. He was placed in a rather unpleasant psychological situation. His feelings were comparable to those of a person in the midst of a group that has been stimulated by good wine, but who has drunk nothing himself. He felt badly about it, because he represented for the others a sort of quiet reproach, which they resented. Fortunately, he had a good reason to base his reserve on. In coming to Berlin, he had retained his Swiss nationality, and his lack of enthusiasm as a neutral was not taken too much amiss.

  I still remember very clearly the first visit that I paid Einstein during the war. When I was leaving, he said to me: “You have no idea how good it is to hear a voice from the outside world, and to be able to speak freely about everything.”

  Immediately upon the outbreak of the war there arose behind the actual battle front an “intellectual front,” where the intellectuals of the hostile camps attacked each other and defended themselves with “intellectual weapons.” The invasion of neutral Belgium by German troops had shocked the entire world, which still believed in the validity of “paper” treaties. Furthermore, the suffering of the Belgian people during the fighting and occupation was utilized to very sound advantage by Allied propaganda. The people of western Europe asked with astonishment: “How can the German people, whose music we love and whose science we admire, be capable of such unlawfulness and such atrocities?” Partly for propagandist reasons there was invented the story of the “two Germanys,” the Germany of Goethe and the Germany of Bismarck.

  The creation of this contrast was unpleasant for the German government, which demanded of the intellectuals that they publicly proclaim their solidarity with the German military and diplomatic conduct of the war. In the famous Manifesto of the Ninety-two German Intellectuals, ninety-two of the outstanding representatives of German art and science rejected the distinction between German culture and German militarism. The manifesto culminated in the assertion: “German culture and German militarism are identical.” What from the German side was regarded as a disavowal of disunity in the life-struggle of the nation was considered the height of cynicism by the Allies.

  As one might expect, Einstein did not sign the manifesto. But it illustrates what was expected at that time of every leading German artist and scientist. Anyone, like Einstein, who refused to concur was regarded by the great majority of his colleagues as a renegade who had deserted his people at a difficult time. Only his Swiss citizenship saved Einstein from being looked upon as a traitor in the struggle for the existence of the German people.

  One can understand how difficult it would have been for Einstein to identify himself publicly with that very militarism to which he had had the greatest aversion since childhood.

  8. German Science in the War

  With the outbreak of the war, all of Einstein’s colleagues became active in one way or another in war service. Physicists were employed in wireless telegraphy, in constructing submarine sound detectors, in predicting weather, and various other important scientific projects. Some served because they felt it to be their duty, others because such work was less unpleasant than service on the battle fronts. On the other hand, there were some who felt they should share the dangers and hardships of the soldiers in the trenches instead of working in a safe laboratory.

  Walter Nernst, who has been mentioned several times already, performed valuable services in the investigation of poison gases. Fritz Haber, a close scientific friend of Einstein, developed a process for the manufacture of ammonia utilizing atmospheric nitrogen, a process of great significance since ammonia is a chemical necessary for the manufacture of artificial fertilizers and explosives and since Germany was unable to import natural ammonia compounds because of the English blockade. Haber was of Jewish origin, but he was strongly influenced by such Prussian ideas as high regard for military power and the subordination of personal feelings to this supreme value. For their service both Nernst and Haber received the rank of major in the German army. To Nernst this title was only a minor satisfaction to his vanity, and he did not esteem it very highly, but for Haber it was a source of great satisfaction and sincere pride. In the Treaty of Versailles both Nernst and Haber were listed by the Allies among the “war criminals” whom Germany was supposed to give up for trial before an international court. No serious demand for their surrender was ever made, however.

  All this work which the scientists performed for the war effort was only natural at a time of national peril, no matter what their attitudes were to the government in power. But there was still another way in which they participated in the war: they engaged actively in the war on the “intellectual front.” There began a battle of words and of propaganda by which the achievements of German scientists were stressed while those of the workers in the enemy countries were depreciated. A group of German physicists sent a circular to all their colleagues in which they urged them not to cite the works of English physicists, or to do so only where this was “unavoidable.” They asserted that on the whole the work of Englishmen was on a much lower level and was frequently mentioned only because of an exaggerated admiration for foreigners, an attitude that should now be abandoned.

  From a historical point of view it is not so much these humanly understandable attempts to exploit the war spirit for pe
rsonal advantages that are of interest, but rather the apparently “scientific” attempts to prove that the entire structure of German physics differs from that of French or English physics. It was argued that for this reason one should adopt as little as possible from them, since otherwise the unity and purity of German science would be endangered and the minds of German students confused. For example, it was frequently asserted that German science is especially profound and thorough in contrast to the superficial character of French and Anglo-American science. French superficiality was attributed to the “shallow” rationalism that tries to comprehend everything by means of reason and ignores the mystery of nature; that of the Anglo-Saxons to the overemphasis on sensory experience, which believes only in facts and ignores philosophical implications.

  Against this the French scientists, in so far as they participated in the war of words, asserted that the “thoroughness” of German science consists in a pedantic collection of unimportant facts, and its “philosophical” character in the production of a smoke screen that obscures the true relation between things. The Anglo-Saxon scientists preferred to point out that German science emphasizes “idealistic” principles so as to make it easier to excuse particularly inhuman acts; for if one must commit atrocities in order to carry out such principles, then they are “idealistically” justified.

  These arguments soon made their appearance in the controversy over the relativity theory. By using arguments of this kind it could be attacked by the one party as a particularly “German” theory and by the opposing side as particularly “un-German.” We shall see that in this way Einstein’s theories, which at first sight appear far removed from any political utility, were soon drawn into the struggles of nations and parties.

  9. Life in Wartime

  During the war the newspapers in Berlin were filled with the battles and victories of the German army. The people were filled with joy and occupied themselves with discussions of such questions as which of the conquered territories should be kept by Germany after the war, whether Poland should actually be freed or become a German protectorate, and so forth. They counted the number of English merchant ships sunk by their submarines, and many of them kept lists of the amount of tonnage sent to the bottom of the sea. Every day they copied the figures from the newspapers and conscientiously added up the totals like a business man making up his annual accounts. To their astonishment they soon found that the total exceeded all the tonnage England ever had, and they began to wonder that there were still any English ships on the sea.

  In private life, however, the pre-eminent interest of everybody was in obtaining food. Whoever managed a household had to be as cunning and ingenious as possible to get any of the food that occasionally appeared on the market; and to prepare it in a halfway palatable manner, since it was often of an unusual nature.

  Einstein’s health was often poor during the war, and he was happy to be connected with a family with whom he could eat home-cooked meals instead of having to depend on restaurant fare, whose cooking at this time was based on the hygienic instructions of the military authorities. Some of Einstein’s well-to-do relatives had previously looked upon him as the black sheep of the family. His running away from the gymnasium in Munich, his devotion to studies that could not bring him a good income, and his marriage to a woman completely outside their circle had not met their approval. It was therefore with great astonishment that they had heard of his growing fame. When Einstein was called to Berlin and made a member of the Royal Prussian Academy, they felt honored to have him at their homes and to be mentioned as his relatives. Einstein accepted this situation good-humoredly.

  In his uncle’s house Einstein again met his cousin Elsa, with whom he had been friends as children in Munich. She was now a widow with two daughters, a woman of friendly, maternal temperament, fond of amusing conversation, and interested in creating a pleasant home and preparing the scanty wartime meals as best she could. Einstein often went to their house, and found a new family life there.

  Frau Elsa could not study the works of great physicists with him as Mileva Maritsch had done at Zurich. She had a happy outlook on life, and not the harsh, self-denying nature of the Slavic student. Regarding Einstein as a physicist, she knew only that he had now become a famous man whom the outstanding scientists of the Prussian Academy, the University of Berlin, and foreign countries recognized as their equal and often as their superior. To have such a relative and friend was a source of pride and joy to her and she wanted to relieve him of the cares of daily life. Einstein, who valued friendliness, often made himself useful in her house by practicing “applied physics.”

  When I visited Berlin on one occasion during the war, Einstein invited me to his uncle’s house for dinner. I declined at first, saying: “Right now when everything is so scarce no one likes to have an unexpected guest.” Thereupon Einstein replied in his sincere manner, which sounded like the simplicity of a child but which could equally well be regarded as acid criticism: “You need have no scruples. On the contrary, my uncle has more food than the per capita average of the population. If you eat at his table you are serving the cause of social justice.” There I met his cousin Elsa for the first time. She said to me half playfully, half in earnest: “I know very well what a talented physicist our Albertle is. In these times we have to buy food in all kinds of cans which no one knows how to open. Often they are of unfamiliar, foreign make, rusted, bent, and without the key necessary to open them. But there hasn’t been a single one yet that our Albertle has not been able to open.”

  While the war was still going on, Einstein married his cousin Elsa. He, who had always had something of the bohemian in him, began to lead a middle-class life. Or, to put it more exactly, Einstein began to live in a household such as was typical of a well-to-do Berlin family. He lived in a spacious apartment in the so-called “Bavarian quarter.” This section had nothing Bavarian about it except that the streets were generally named after Bavarian cities. He lived in the midst of beautiful furniture, carpets, and pictures; his meals were prepared and eaten at regular times. Guests were invited. But when one entered this home, one found that Einstein still remained a “foreigner” in such a surrounding — a bohemian guest in a middle-class home.

  Elsa Einstein had many of the characteristics of the people of her native Swabia. She valued greatly what was known in Germany and especially in Swabia as “Gemütlichkeit.” It is no wonder that she was very happy when she saw the esteem and admiration in which her husband was held and which she shared as his wife. Nevertheless, there were always two sides to the job of being the wife of a famous man. The people about her were always inclined to look very critically at her and, as a compensation for the respect that they reluctantly paid her husband, to unload upon her all the reproaches they would have liked to bring against him.

  When Elsa Einstein was discussed in professional circles in Berlin, one could hear all sorts of criticism of this nature. The most harmless was probably the assertion that her intellectual capacities hardly fitted her to be Einstein’s wife. But if Einstein had followed this criticism, what woman could he have married? The question was, rather, could she create tolerable living conditions for Einstein in which he could carry on his work? And in considerable measure she did so. There is no ideal solution to this problem, and since Einstein believed less than most men in the possibility of an ideal solution, he did not feel hurt when his wife did not completely represent this ideal.

  Some professors complained that because of her it was difficult for physicists to gain access to Einstein. She preferred, they claimed, to have Einstein meet writers, artists, or politicians, because she understood these people better and considered them more valuable. Einstein, however, was certainly not the man to be easily influenced in the choice of his company. He himself liked to mingle with all kinds of people and did not restrict himself to professional circles. It may sometimes have happened that a visitor whom Einstein did not wish to see put the blame on Einstein’s wife because
he did not want to admit to himself that his company was not so interesting for Einstein as he himself thought it ought to be.

  Others complained that Mrs. Einstein placed too much value on the external symbols of fame and did not really know how to value her husband’s inner greatness. It is obvious, however, that the wife of a great man can understand most easily the effect of his activities on public opinion, and that this will consequently interest her more than anything else.

  Any woman in Elsa Einstein’s position would probably have acted more or less as she did. The only difference was that the public is rarely so much interested in the life of a scientist as it was in Einstein’s. On this account his wife was blamed for various things that are actually common occurrences. The married life of a great man has always been a difficult problem, no matter how he or his wife is constituted. Nietzsche once said: “A married philosopher, is to put it bluntly, a ridiculous figure.”

  Einstein was protected against various difficulties by the circumstance that he always kept a certain part of his inner self from any contact with others, and that he had no desire to share his inner life completely with anyone. He was very much aware that every happiness has its shadows, and accepted this fact without protest.

  When in 1932 some women’s clubs opposed Einstein’s entry into the United States because in their opinion he spread subversive doctrines, e.g., pacifism, Einstein remarked jokingly to a representative of the Associated Press: “Why should one admit a man who is so vulgar as to oppose every war except the inevitable one with his own wife?”