Einstein’s friend, physicist
Max Born, shared a letter he had received from Einstein. The letter acknowledged,
“Everyone needs to offer up his sacrifice at the altar of stupidity . . . and I did
so in my article.” Sommerfeld asked Einstein to write a letter of apology to Lenard
and to recant his accusations publicly if Lenard requested it. In return, he promised
that he would ask Friedrich von Mueller, the chairman of the Bad Nauheim meeting,
to feature as part of his opening address a warning against the kind of polemics in
which Weyland had engaged. At the same time, Sommerfeld wrote a letter to Lenard informing
him of the request he had made of Einstein.
However, any hope of civility between the two scientists became moot when Lenard wrote
back,
The thought of an apology by Mr. Einstein to me, moreover the assumption of a suitable
response to him on my part, to remain satisfactory, I must refuse with indignation.
The comments by Mr. Einstein represent the characteristics which must belittle me
in the eyes of the reader. They are a sign of personal contempt for me by Mr. Einstein,
whose transformation into the required esteem based on some assurance by me would
be very astonishing.
In his stilted, overly formal style, Lenard revealed the stress imposed upon him over
what he doubtlessly viewed as a public humiliation. Despite the fact that he actually
did conspire with Weyland and others in organizing the evening’s events, he apparently
felt that Einstein had unfairly singled him out:
Mr. Einstein finds his words shameful and probably incorrect, as he has publicly withdrawn
his statements. Otherwise he could not make up the wrong done to me to the extent
that is even possible. The public release of such value judgments about a colleague,
such as those made by Einstein . . . is, in my feeling, an improper arrogance and
reveals an all time low of nobleness.
Despite Lenard’s harsh assessment of his character and the failure of Sommerfeld’s
efforts to negotiate a détente, Einstein privately celebrated what seemed to him a
settling down of the uproar surrounding a series of unfortunate events. The embarrassing
episode had passed, and with it the worry it had caused. The promised twenty lectures
at the Berlin Philharmonic were aborted after the second installment, a lackluster
and poorly attended presentation by the engineer, Ludwig Glaser. The other scheduled
lecturer for the evening failed to appear. Weyland, a potentially dangerous antagonist,
had lost face with his former allies. Gehrcke wrote to Lenard that Weyland was simply
“one of the many dubious types that had been generated by the revolutionary, warlike
city.” Lenard responded, “Weyland, unfortunately, has proven to be a fraud.”
Reassured by the outpouring of support by his German colleagues and the retrenchment
of the Working Society, it must have seemed to Einstein that the storm had passed.
Einstein exulted to friends that perhaps the Working Society did not have the following
it claimed. As it turned out, Einstein reckoned wrong. There was much more to come.
What he took for fair weather was actually the eye of the storm.
Chapter 5
A Disagreement
between Gentlemen
Less than a month after the Working Group lectures at the Berlin Philharmonic, on
the morning of September 19, 1920, the eighty-sixth meeting of the German Society
of Natural Scientists and Physicians kicked off an ambitious, weeklong schedule of
more than three hundred sessions. Held jointly with the meetings of the German Mathematical
Society, the German Physical Society, and the Society of Technical Physics, a late
change in venue to Bad Nauheim had presented logistical challenges. Violent political
unrest, rampant at the time in the original choice of Frankfurt am Main, convinced
the organizers to distance their conference to a more bucolic setting where unsavory
elements were less likely to
Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton