360
DOC. 482
NOVEMBER
1913
482. To
Elsa Löwenthal
[Zurich] Friday
[7
November
1913][1]
Dear
Elsa,
The
little
scolding you gave
me
because of
my
silence
was
not
totally unjustified,
but
you
would understand
it if
you
saw
how few
were
the calm
moments
in which I could
have
written
to
you
in
peace
and
quiet. Lectures,[2]
eternal
readings
of
proofs,
and
a
stubborn
intestinal catarrh
&
accompanying
ill
humor.
I'd rather
not write at all
than
to
have bile
drip
into
my scribbling.
You
must
not
interpret
this
as a
lack
of
affection
for
you.
When
we
start
meeting frequently
in
Berlin,
you
will
see
that
we
will
become
good
friends for
a
lifetime,
who will be able to
brighten
each other's
existence. Most
beautiful of
all
are going
to
be
our
walks in
the
Grunewald[3]
and,
in
inclement
weather,
our
rendezvous
in
your
room.
So
you
want
to
give a
big extemporaneous
reading?[4]
Isn't
this
cruelty to
animals
with
your
own
self
as
victim?
People
like
me are
happy
if
they
do not have
to
make
a public
presentation,
and
you are doing
it
without
necessity.
Still,
I
am
impressed
by your courage.
But
by
no means
would I like to
attend
it.
Because
only as a
private
gift
and
product
of the
moment do I love
the words
from
out
of
your
mouth,
the
more
spontaneously,
the better! If
you were
to recite
me
the
most
beautiful
poem,
no
matter how
divinely, my
pleasure
would not
even
approach
the
pleasure
I felt
when
I received
the mushrooms and
goose cracklings you
prepared
for
me.
I know how this would be
interpreted
by a psychologist,
but
I
wouldn't
be
ashamed,
and
you
would
surely
not
despise
the
primitive
side
of
my
nature
that
is
revealed
by this,
even
if
you
would smile at it
a
little.
Extreme mental
sublimation has
something
oppressive
in it
on
account
of
its
earnestness,
and
banishes
happy laughter.
I
was
called
away,
and
so
passed
another
day
without
my being
able to finish
the
letter.
Today I
am
supposed to
see a young
Dutchman[5] with whom I
must
discuss
a
scientific
study.
He
could be
here
at
any
moment.
The
matter
of
an
institute
for
me
has been
postponed
until after
my coming
to
Berlin.[6]
In
fact,
it would be
good
if I
were
to
get
some
sort
of
institute; I could
then
work
together
with
others instead of
only by myself.
This would be
much
more
to
my
liking.
It
was
very
interesting
in
Brussels.[7] I
had
a
heated debate
with
Nernst,[8]
which,
oddly
enough,
did not
damage
our good
relationship.
At
a
banquet,
our
president
H. A.
Lorentz deemed
it
necessary
for
me
to
fire
off
the
toast to
our
host.[9]
I did
it,
but
in
a
quite
childish
way,
because
I
am
singularly
inexperienced
in such
matters.
All
those
who
had known
me as a quick-witted
debater without fear
and
reproach
found
it
amusing
that
my
mastery
of words deserts
me so
completely
when
I
eat and drink.
Kisses from
your
Albert
Best
regards to
your
dear children
and
your
parents.