3 0 2 D O C U M E N T 3 0 0 A U G U S T 1 9 2 4
300. To Betty Neumann
[Lautrach Castle,] Wednesday [6 and 8 August
1924][1]
Dear Betty,
It has already been so long since I slipped into that familiar home on Maasen
St.,[2]
and I also haven’t released any letter that strict people, of which there are un-
fortunately so many, could describe as a love letter (or something similar). And
even today’s should duly taste like cold bread dumplings, although……(sup-
pressed by the censor because it doesn’t taste like cold bread dumplings).
It was very interesting in Geneva. There was a considerable conflict one time on
my
part,[3]
but my impression was very favorable and I’m quite glad that I joined
the committee. A week ago last night, I traveled to Zurich and met my boys
there,[4]
with whom I traveled here on Thursday, where we are leading a sort of life of idle
luxury together, which for me isn’t so luxuriously idle because bad people sent me
a dissertation for evaluation, correction proofs, and other compulsory occupations.
I must say, on the whole, that I actually don’t have a knack for lazing about and
need a sailboat (or such) in addition, if I’m not going to succumb to pondering. I’m
hoping to arrive in Berlin roughly on the 20th, where I must find out how the dice
of fate were thrown by Tweety’s hands. This early arrival must, however,—to pre-
vent other vacation
interruptions[5]
—be treated as the strictest secret.
On about the ¢13th² 17th, I’m going away to visit my old friend, the pastor
Brandhuber[6]
in Benzingen (near Sigmaringen), a curious enterprise for a Jewish
saint, which I unquestionably am. My boys are splendid fellows, robust and cheer-
ful. I play music with them a lot; today even a young lady cellist arrived so that we
can play as a trio. But the house and the people are a bit too well-mannered and tidy
for my gypsy soul, so I feel somewhat like a migrant bird in a cage.
So, now give my cordial regards to Uncle and Aunt Mühsam and brood your egg
fully to the finish, as befits a capable daughter, and think of your virtuous dumpling
baker with such sentiments as are properly suited to the state of things,
A. Einstein.
I still haven’t heard any news about the experiment from Mr.
Pringsheim.[7]
By some bad luck, this letter was left lying until Friday. Yesterday I received the
letter from you two refugees with the marvelous poem by Uncle Hans. The dark
hints at silly mistakes make me curious; but I do believe that enlightenment is to be
found in Aunt’s letter. You poor child, whom I’m forbidden to help! It’s a curious
world, in which we are planted in order to torment partly ourselves, partly one an-
other. I wish you from my heart clarity and peace of mind.