He treated the League, as he did so many parts of life, with a slightly detached and amused air. Each member was supposed to give an address to Geneva University students, but Einstein gave a violin recital instead. One evening at a dinner, Murray’s wife asked him why he remained so cheerful given the depravity of the world. “We must remember that this is a very small star,” he responded, “and probably some of the larger and more important stars may be very virtuous and happy.”73
The unpleasant atmosphere in Germany made Einstein willing to take the most extensive tour of his life, a six-month excursion beginning in October 1922 that would be the only time he would travel either to Asia or what is now Israel. Wherever he went, he was treated as a celebrity, arousing within him the usual mixed emotions. Upon arrival in Ceylon, the Einsteins were whisked away by a waiting rickshaw.“We rode in small one-man carriages drawn at a trot by men of Herculean strength yet delicate build,” he noted in his travel diary. “I was bitterly ashamed to share responsibility for the abominable treatment accorded fellow human beings but was unable to do anything about it.”74
In Singapore, almost the entire Jewish community of more than six hundred turned up at the dock, fortunately trailing no rickshaws. Einstein’s target was the richest of them all, Sir Menasseh Meyer, who was born in Baghdad and made his fortune in the opium and real estate markets. “Our sons are refused admission to the universities of other nations,” he declared in his speech seeking donations for Hebrew University. Not many of his listeners understood German, and Einstein called the event a “desperate calamity of language with good tasting cake.” But it paid off. Meyer gave a sizable donation.75
Einstein’s own take was even greater. His Japanese publisher and hosts paid him 2,000 pounds for his lecture series there. It was a huge success. Close to twenty-five hundred paying customers showed up for the first talk in Tokyo, which lasted four hours with translation, and more thronged the Imperial Palace to watch his arrival there to meet the emperor and empress.
Einstein was typically amused by it all. “No living person deserves this sort of reception,” he told Elsa as they stood on the balcony of their hotel room at dawn listening to the cheers of a thousand people who had kept an all- night vigil hoping to glimpse him. “I’m afraid we’re swindlers. We’ll end up in prison yet.” The German ambassador, with a bit of edge to his pen, reported that “the entire journey of the famous man has been mounted and executed as a commercial enterprise.”76
Feeling sorry for his listeners, Einstein shortened his subsequent lecture to under three hours. But as he rode to the next city by train (passing along the way through Hiroshima), he could sense that something was amiss with his hosts. Upon asking what the problem was, he was politely told, “The persons who arranged the second lecture were insulted because it did not last four hours like the first one.” Thenceforth, he lectured long to the patient Japanese audiences.
The Japanese people struck him as gentle and unpretentious, with a deep appreciation for beauty and ideas. “Of all the people I have met, I like the Japanese most, as they are modest, intelligent, considerate, and have a feel for art,” he wrote his two sons.77
On his voyage back west, Einstein made his only visit to Palestine, a memorable twelve-day stay that included stops in Lod, Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and Haifa. He was greeted with great British pomp, as if he were a head of state rather than a theoretical physicist. A cannon salute announced his arrival at the palatial residence of the British high commissioner, Sir Herbert Samuel.
Einstein, on the other hand, was typically unpretentious; he and Elsa arrived tired because he had insisted that they travel in the coach-class car of the overnight train from the coast rather than the first-class sleeping car that had been prepared for them. Elsa was so unnerved by the British formality that she went to bed early some nights to avoid ceremonial events. “When my husband commits a breach of etiquette, it is said it’s because he’s a man of genius,” she complained. “In my case, however, it is attributed to lack of culture.”78
Like Lord Haldane, Commissioner Samuel was a serious amateur in philosophy and science. Together he and Einstein walked the Old City of Jerusalem to that holiest shrine for religious Jews, the Western Wall (or Wailing Wall) that flanks Temple Mount. But Einstein’s deepening love for his Jewish heritage did not instill any new appreciation for the Jewish religion. “Dull-minded tribal companions are praying, faces turned to the wall, rocking their bodies forward and back,” he recorded in his diary. “A pitiful sight of men with a past but without a future.”79
The sights of industrious Jewish people building a new land evinced a more positive reaction. One day he went to a reception for a Zionist organization, and the gates of the building were stormed by throngs who wanted to hear him.“I consider this the greatest day of my life,” Einstein proclaimed in the excitement of the moment. “Before, I have always found something to regret in the Jewish soul, and that is the forgetfulness of its own people. Today, I have been made happy by the sight of the Jewish people learning to recognize themselves and to make themselves recognized as a force in the world.”
The most frequent question Einstein was asked was whether he would someday return to Jerusalem to stay. He was unusually discreet in his replies, saying nothing quotable. But he knew, as he confided to one of his hosts, that if he came back he would be “an ornament” with no chance of peace or privacy. As he noted in his diary, “My heart says yes, but my reason says no.”80
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOBEL LAUREATE
Einstein in Paris, 1922
It seemed obvious that Einstein would someday win the Nobel Prize for Physics. He had, in fact, already agreed to transfer the money to his first wife, Mileva Mari, when that occurred. The questions were: When would it happen? and, For what?
Once it was announced—in November 1922, awarding him the prize for 1921—the questions were: What took so long? and, Why “especially for his discovery of the law of the photoelectric effect”?
It has been part of the popular lore that Einstein learned that he had finally won while on his way to Japan. “Nobel Prize for physics awarded to you. More by letter,” read the telegram sent on November 10. In fact, he had been alerted as soon as the Swedish Academy made the decision in September, well before he left on his trip.
The chairman of the physics award committee, Svante Arrhenius, had heard that Einstein was planning to go to Japan in October, which meant that he would be away for the ceremony unless he postponed the trip. So he wrote Einstein directly and explicitly: “It will probably be very desirable for you to come to Stockholm in December.” Expressing a principle of pre–jet travel physics, he added, “And if you are then in Japan that will be impossible.”1 Coming from the head of a Nobel Prize committee, it was clear what that meant. There are not a lot of other reasons for physicists to be summoned to Stockholm in December.
Despite knowing that he would finally win, Einstein did not see fit to postpone his trip. Partly it was because he had been passed over so often that it had begun to annoy him.
He had first been nominated for the prize in 1910 by the chemistry laureate Wilhelm Ostwald, who had rejected
