1 1 8 V O L U M E 9 , D O C U M E N T 2 5 a
I told your wife how a violent instinct impelled me to react toward an obtrusive
journalist: he wanted to make my institute famous, he knew about the accomplish-
ments, etc., that the university should enlighten its supporting public—I also knew
the worth of the man from before and asked him: do you think I would allow myself
to be handed out praise and censure by you here in private? – – – do you think I
would allow you, among 20,000 people, to judge me irresponsibly?—So please.
Furthermore I explained to your wife: Descartes was famous even before Ein-
stein—but he succeeded in living as expressed in the motto: bene vixit qui bene
latuit [he lives well who has hidden himself
well].[5]
You cannot protect yourself from curiosity—this is the curse, which counts on
vanity, etc.—Go on a sailing boat—Wannsee—have a big sign made: Prof. Einstein
is away—no one should give any other information, for that is the greatest risk of
legitimate annoyance: becoming the source of misunderstanding. I am speaking
from much experience of [indirect] relativities.
Vol. 9, 25a. From Hans Albert Einstein
[Zurich, around 20 April
1919][1]
Dear Papa,
I’ve been anxiously waiting a long time already for any sign from you, particu-
larly since very bad news arrived about the conditions in
Germany.[2]
That’s why it
was a huge relief when I got your letter of the 15th of March and heard that you’re
doing well. You’re probably finding it very interesting in Berlin now, but your
stomach that much the less, which is very certainly going to revolt again
shortly.[3]
But it is a consolation that you’re coming here again for a while in the summer, to
our great joy as well as to that of your revolting little
stomach.[4]
I was also very
glad that you’ve already seen about my
scores.[5]
It’s questionable whether they can
be sent without any trouble. Please let me ask you also when you come again to
bring along the photographic plates “From my Childhood.” I’ve already made var-
ious plans for the summer, but we can’t choose until you’re here and we can sort of
see what you can handle. I’m enclosing a postcard that just arrived. For the last few
days I’ve been going to Mr. Holder, the mechanic at Prof. Maier’s institute, and
have been filing away for dear
life.[6]
I’ve got vacation, you see, and am making the
most of every last bit of it. To the point that I hardly found the time to write you.
Sometimes I also play music with Dr. von
Ganzenbach[7]
now and otherwise do
things with Tete, who’s been back here again for sometime
already.[8]
We can’t go
out on walks now, though, because it’s wintertime again. There have been about 40