by Stuart Clark
‘I was struck mostly by Princeton. The university there had a … it had the freshness of an unsmoked pipe.’ Einstein lifted his own cutlery. ‘Unlike Harvard, where they thought it best to talk to me in French rather than German.’
His host laughed at the absurdity; Blumenfeld sulked.
‘Let us hope your message of reconciliation continues to spread,’ said Rathenau.
‘I managed to thaw out some of the English.’ Einstein told how, in preparation for a lecture, he had visited Westminster Abbey with Eddington and laid flowers on Isaac Newton’s grave. Despite this gesture, a resounding silence had greeted him as he took the podium at the Royal Society.
He spent the first part of his discourse eulogising the great British scientists whose work he felt humbled to have been given the opportunity to build upon. When the event ended, the floor rose and he received a standing ovation. At that moment, he would have traded those hundred scientists for the tens of thousands of people who had mobbed him in America.
‘Mind you, my efforts do not seem to have made me any more popular in Germany.’ He recounted the story of his snubbing at the Academy.
‘It will take time; we must have patience.’ Rathenau dabbed at his lips with a napkin. ‘Where next?’
‘Switzerland, to see my boys. They’re growing so fast – my eldest is at college already. I plan to take him to Florence and show him Galileo’s tomb. I seem to be on a tour of my predecessors’ graves. Makes me wonder who will visit mine.’ Einstein laughed at his own joke. ‘Walther, I fear for you. By accepting this post, you really do make yourself a target. There are dangerous, irrational people out there. Perhaps it’s better that we Hebrews keep our own counsel, and in that way rise above the pettiness.’
Rathenau spoke with iron calm. ‘My decision is final. I will do my best as Foreign Minister. I will live my life as a German and, when the time comes, hopefully a long way off yet, I will die as one. Unlike either of you, I have faith in Germany. Now, gentlemen, let us enjoy the rest of the meal. I pray that the meat is not too tough for you.’
24
Florence, Italy
All was quiet and cool in the basilica of Santa Croce. Footsteps echoing from the tall stones, Einstein and Hans Albert made their way into the interior. Here and there worshippers sat on the narrow pews, mostly women behind widows’ veils, as motionless as the statues on the tombs.
Einstein and his son came to a halt. ‘This is what I wanted us to see.’
Galileo’s sarcophagus was made of ochre marble, with a bust of the great astronomer sitting on top. Bearded, his face lifted to the stars, it seemed as if he were about to raise the telescope in his right hand to his eye. A globe of the Earth and an assortment of books provided a rest for his left arm. Yet with his gaze turned up, he was forever robbed of looking back at those who came to visit.
‘How do you pay your respects without praying?’ whispered Hans Albert. ‘I understand giving thanks for a life and praying for their place in Heaven, but what if you don’t believe? What do we wish for then?’
Einstein turned the problem over for a moment. ‘We pay our respects by thinking of how much poorer the world would be without their contribution.’ He ran his own eyes over the muses flanking the sarcophagus, both portrayed as women in flowing robes: one for astronomy and the other for geometry. ‘Galileo was originally buried under the bell tower here in an unmarked grave. He was only given a proper monument and moved inside here during the late 1730s, ’37 I seem to remember.’
‘Was he the greatest astronomer?’
‘His real achievement was his physics, with his studies of motion and his mathematical way of presenting his findings. For me, the greatest astronomer was Johannes Kepler. I simply don’t understand why he’s not as well remembered as Galileo. Kepler’s laws of planetary motion were herculean and proved that Nature could be captured into numbers. He and Galileo set the stage for Newton.’
There was a shushing from the pews.
With a final look at Galileo’s upturned stone face, Einstein signalled for his son to follow him and they returned to the daylight.
They wound their way through the shimmering streets, sticking to the shadows wherever possible until they emerged on to the Piazza Uffizi with its overwhelming yellow Palazzo in one corner. With its single thrusting finger of a spire, it was the seat of the Medici rulers in Galileo’s time. Drawn by the tempting smell of almond pastries and ground coffee beans, Einstein chose a café nearby, crowded with mid-morning customers.
His son looked relaxed in a lightweight grey suit, with a face that was full and round. Spectacles sat proudly on his nose, adding to his air of confidence. College was clearly suiting him.
‘You want ice cream?’ asked Einstein.
The young man gave him a look of amusement rather than disapproval. ‘Tete still likes ice cream, Papa. I prefer coffee.’
Suitably admonished, Einstein ordered the drinks and raised his face to the warmth. ‘I want to say that I think that perhaps you made the right choice of career.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. I didn’t think so at first but engineering is a solid choice, a good path. My father and uncle were both engineers. You won’t have to go searching for some four-leafed clover to prove your name. Just build us some solid bridges. I think you’re wise.’
The drinks arrived and his son swigged the coffee with a broad smile. ‘I read about physics, but I don’t understand a lot of the modern ideas.’
‘Neither do I, but no one believes me when I tell them that the quantum theory is flawed. The laws of physics should determine precisely what happens, not leave things to chance. Light spitting itself out of atoms at will – rubbish. Utter rubbish. Galileo left nothing to chance in his science. An effect, must always have a cause. Quantum theory cannot be correct, but no one listens. They just bury their heads in the sand.’ Einstein’s voice had risen and was drawing looks. ‘Sorry, son, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
Hans Albert looked surprised. ‘You don’t, not any more.’
‘Any more?’
‘Sorry, Papa. Mama talks a lot about you, tells me about you.’
‘I dare say your mother knows me better than anyone else.’ The thought brought both warmth and insecurity. ‘She knew me before you were born, watched me change into what I am today.’ He paused. ‘We can’t help the way we change, even if it’s hard on those around us.’
‘I know you don’t necessarily mean the unpleasant things you say. You’re distracted, thinking about your work. Mama says that you can be hurt by things we say, well, things I say. I’m sorry for that.’
The square, for all its activity, drained away from Einstein’s consciousness.
‘Have I upset you, Papa?’
Something was tugging at his heart. ‘Not at all. I should be the one apologising to you.’ He recalled Mileva in her wedding frock, high-necked with a tiny pinched waist, and the delicious look in her eyes. ‘I think I should visit your mama when I take you home. Do you?’
‘Please, Papa. It would make her so happy. Tete, too.’
Eduard was now seventeen, stocky and awkward. He hung on to his father in the hallway the way he used to as a boy, seemingly unaware of his burgeoning strength.
‘Tete, be gentle,’ said Mileva, straightening her blouse at the sight of her former husband.
‘No, it’s all right,’ said Einstein, finally released.
Mileva’s cheeks were fuller again, her lips pleasantly coloured.
‘Did you have a nice time?’ she asked her elder son.
‘Oh, yes. Splendid. We saw Galileo’s tomb.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Einstein. ‘He’s still going to be an engineer.’
They laughed more loudly than the feeble joke deserved. They all shuffled a little. He thought about hanging his hat on the coatstand, then decided it was too forward. Besides, Hans Albert was willing her with his eyes.
Finally her eyes sparked, and with a slight trem
or in her voice she invited Einstein to stay for tea.
‘I would like that very much.’
‘Tete,’ said Mileva, ‘hang up your father’s coat.’
He all but tore the garment from Einstein’s shoulders.
After the tea and some idle chatter – although there was a point when Einstein became fixated on revising the Fibonacci sequence with Tete – the family relaxed.
‘That was lovely, thank you, Mama.’ Hans Albert stood. ‘Come along, Tete, I want to tell you all about Florence.’
His brother looked delighted and slipped from the table. Einstein saw the triumph on his elder son’s face as he led the boy away, leaving his parents alone.
They sat for a moment. Mileva ran her finger along the edge of her collar. Einstein eyed the clutter in the place.
‘I know,’ said Mileva, ‘I should tidy up.’
‘I like it, feels homely.’
The comment embarrassed them both, neither sure what lay behind it. Was it just politeness, or something deeper?
‘How bad is it in Germany?’ she asked. ‘We read things in the papers and we hear stories.’
He was grateful for the change of subject. ‘The currency has collapsed. They’ve printed so much money to try to meet the war reparations it’s now virtually worthless.’
‘Yet you always meet your payments to us.’
‘My foreign lectures are paid in dollars; I keep it in bank accounts outside Germany, where it’s safe. Otherwise I’d be on the streets.’
‘Just you? You never mention …’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Elsa,’ he said gently, ‘I don’t want to upset you.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘It’s not a marriage like we had together.’
Mileva made to get up from the table. He continued, anxious to keep her attention. ‘She’s more of a governess than a wife,’ he blurted.
‘Don’t, Albert.’ Mileva’s hand trembled as she collected the tea-things. He cursed his clumsiness. After a few minutes he followed her to the kitchen, pausing at the door as she began filling the sink.
‘I’m worried about Tete,’ he said tentatively.
‘He’s not like Albert, that’s for sure.’ Mileva shrugged.
‘For seventeen, he seems …’ How could he say ‘retarded’ to the boy’s mother? ‘Has he been sick lately?’
‘Small things, nothing major. It’s more his emotional state; the least little thing can trigger one of his moods. He’s all ups and downs.’ There was concern in her voice.
‘I’ve always worried about him, and soon he’ll be at university. Can he look after himself ?’
‘He’ll stay here and go to university. He’s thinking of studying psychoanalysis.’
‘What a waste of time.’ The words were out of his mouth before he knew it.
Mileva eyed him over her shoulder. ‘Same old Albert, eh?’
‘Sorry.’ Flummoxed, he reached for a tea-towel and set to on the pile of crockery Mileva was building next to the sink.
‘Does he still play?’
She continued to flourish the dishcloth. ‘Piano? Oh yes. It’s one of the few things that he will always settle to. We have a musical evening planned with the Hurwitz family tonight.’
‘You still do that?’
‘Of course. Come along if you like. You could borrow a violin. We could drop you off at your hotel on the way home.’
‘I haven’t booked one.’ His heart accelerated. ‘I was wondering about the little room upstairs.’
She stopped washing up and turned to face him, hands and dishcloth dripping. They were standing closer than they had for years. There was still a wall between them, but it was a thinner one.
‘I’ll not inconvenience you, Mileva. We’re a family. I may have sometimes forgotten that.’
‘The boys would like it if you stayed.’
With a nod, he picked up another plate and slid the towel across it.
‘And so would I,’ he heard her say in a voice that was barely a whisper.
25
Berlin
There had been plenty of laughter at the musical evening. In the relaxed atmosphere Tete had stolen the show, reducing his father to tears with the sensitivity of his playing. The next day, Mileva and the boys had accompanied Einstein to the station, and he had tried to hide the leaden movement of his feet. Amid the whistles and the steam, he had stood close to her. ‘You live in a beautiful country, you have two beautiful sons, and, best of all, you don’t have me getting in the way.’
She tried to smile at his bravado. ‘I miss you, Albert, still.’
‘I know,’ he said tenderly, ‘I don’t understand why, but I know.’ His eyes had brimmed with tears as he hurried to the carriage.
Now back in his attic study, Einstein was still musing over the visit and his tangled emotions. Mileva was the mother of his children; Elsa was his wife. He was bound to both of them in ways that he had failed to grasp before.
A sharp knock on his office door brought him back to the present. He shot a poisonous look at Elsa, who appeared in the crack of the door. An admonishment for disturbing him was on his lips until he saw how pale she was.
‘Albertle, it’s the police. They’ve refused tea.’
He found the two officers in the sitting room. They stood up stiffly when he entered.
‘What can I do for you, gentlemen?’
‘It’s Walther Rathenau.’
Einstein sat down heavily, guessing what was to come.
The officers explained quietly and methodically how the Foreign Minister had been in his car that morning as usual, being driven to work. According to witnesses, his car had slowed at a crossroads. As it did so, a vehicle carrying four young men, each identically dressed in leather coats and driving caps, pulled up alongside. One of the occupants drew a gun and took aim. The Foreign Minister had stared at his killer as five shots rang out.
‘He had been advised to vary his daily routine,’ said the officer.
‘We think they must have been watching his house for a while.’ Einstein berated himself for not doing more. He had known that this was the only way it could end, yet he had allowed himself to be fobbed off by Rathenau at their supper. Damn the man and his obstinacy! And damn him for his craving for power, which had ultimately been his undoing.
Einstein thought of Rathenau’s bullet-ridden body, probably not yet fully cold, lying on some slab somewhere, awaiting preparation for burial.
‘Have you caught those responsible?’
‘Yes, sir, within the last hour. They were not very sophisticated. Seems as if they didn’t realise we’d come after them so quickly, if at all. We caught them relaxing back in their apartment.’
The idea of their failing to understand the deed was punishable shocked him more than the crime itself.
‘There’s something else.’ The chief officer’s face was grave. ‘A list of names found at the address. Your name was on it.’ Elsa gasped from the doorway.
‘A list of targets?’ Einstein asked.
‘We believe so. Herr Rathenau was top of the list.’
Einstein thought better than to ask where own name had been on the list. The fact that the officers were here so quickly told him all he needed to know.
‘Is there anywhere you can go? Away from Berlin, I mean,’ said the officer.
‘The Japanese lecture tour,’ declared Elsa, stepping closer to them.
‘We’re in the preliminary stages only, Elsa. It will take months. Let’s not be too hasty.’
‘Then we must sell. Sell up and leave Berlin at once,’ she said, urgency in her voice. ‘There’s that company in Kiel, they’ll have you in an instant.’
Einstein drew a deep breath, thinking about the compass he had designed for them during the war. ‘Elsa, let us stay calm.’
‘You must be cautious, Herr Einstein,’ said the policeman, eliciting a weak smile from Elsa. ‘We would urge you not to make any public appearances.
When you do go out, vary your routine. You cannot afford to take any risks.’
Einstein glanced at his wife, intending to give her a reassuring wink, but her look of naked fear froze him to the core.
‘Elsa, cross over.’ Einstein did not wait for her to react. With a quick check for traffic, he took her elbow and stepped out into the glistening road.
Just ahead of them a group of jostling women were crowded around a factory gate. Wages were now distributed twice a day, and this was the crowd for the lunchtime handout. Workers’ names were called out from behind iron railings and the bulging wage packets were handed through to their respective owners. The women snatched the money and fled, desperate to buy anything that was edible before the inevitable afternoon price hike.
Food was scarce and prices so astronomical that it was wise to avoid crowds. There were gaunt faces and hungry people everywhere; the papers were full of recriminations. Public beatings and alleyway murders were increasing, the victims mostly Jewish.
Einstein tried to hide the two small bags of groceries he was carrying and quickened his step. ‘I told you not to wear a fur today. It attracts too much attention.’ He had suggested a walk in the park, yet somehow it had turned into a wholly unpleasant shopping trip. ‘We should have had the groceries delivered.’
‘We can’t afford to any more, and there’s no guarantee they would arrive anyway. What is happening to this city? Have you sent the letter?’
Einstein marched on. ‘I’ve torn it up.’
She looked at him aghast. ‘How could you?’
‘I don’t want to be an engineer.’
‘But we discussed it after the policemen left.’
‘You were scared. I wanted to calm you.’
He had to admit that the thought was not entirely without merit. Up on the Baltic coast it would be far enough away to keep a low profile. There would be peace and quiet, not to mention the chance of learning to sail. Yet in his dreams he kept finding himself in America, walking the leafy paths across the Princeton campus.
Elsa was tugging on an ostentatious earring. ‘What if they target the girls?’