8 6 V O L U M E 8 , D O C U M E N T 4 6 1 a
Vol. 8, 461a. From Mileva Einstein-Maric;
Zurich, 9 February 1918
Dear Albert,
I received your
letter.[1]
Exactly two years ago, you pushed me over the brink
into this misery with such
letters,[2]
which I still can’t rid myself of; and now you
evidently think it just too nice that I have, as you say, neither fever nor attacks and
write me the same again. I can reply to you neither yes nor no today, since I abso-
lutely must get advice from a lawyer about the matter; I could not justify it to my
children to act otherwise. I wanted to do the same back then as well, but since I nev-
er felt well I constantly postponed the matter until I became
ill.[3]
Also, Besso told
me that you were not thinking about that anymore, and had given up the
idea.[4]
D[ear] Albert, why do you torment me so endlessly? I would never have thought it
possible that anyone, to whom a woman who had devoted her love and her youth,
and to whom she had given the gift of children, could do such painful things as you
have done to me. You can’t possibly imagine what I suffered through these last two
years, not even to mention what was
before.[5]
And now I’m not even recovered and
the business is supposed to start all over again. I really don’t deserve this from you.
You ought not to have subjected me to the relentless, insensitive, and callous pro-
tests about Tete either; you know that he was sick, and if we weren’t going to allow
him to deteriorate, something had to be done for him, especially since I myself am
ill and could not take care of him and provide for him. And how do you manage to
imagine Tete’s treatment as
pampering?[6]
If only for Zangger’s sake, you ought not
to have said this. He has expended so much effort on us, has never spared his time,
or even cost, when he could be of help to us; he has done many a thing that would
actually have been your responsibility, because he is fond of you, and you ought to
acknowledge him and not hurt
him.[7]
The whole misfortune is that more money
was spent this year than had been projected. And if you had let us succumb to sick-
ness, would this couple of thousand francs have made you happy? Do consider also
that everything is so expensive nowadays, many things now are 3 times their
price;[8]
how am I supposed to afford everything? I don’t understand you. Do you
really want to place yourself on the same level as Elsa’s
husband?[9]
From her you
will know how hard it is to survive, and do you really want to have the same be-
stowed on your wife and children as well? Consider that the matter is even more
serious for me insofar as I have no inheritance, or nothing to speak
of,[10]
and that
after this illness I am not going to be able to consider earning anything soon. And
what if your health doesn’t improve? This has not been the case since the summer,
Albert,[11]
and you don’t know how much this worries me! And what if your illness
should take an unfortunate course? This must also be considered. In this case do