Handling evidence in history: the case of Einstein’s
wife
By
Alberto A. Martínez
Here is a
good story: a 26-year-old patent clerk, having studied theoretical physics
largely on his own, publishes in a single year four extraordinary papers
that revolutionise physics. Most of us believe, for
many reasons, that this story is true. We say that in 1905 it actually happened
that it is history.
Still, we
know that it is unlikely that a single person in a single year can be so
successful in physics. Accordingly, some people have formulated hypotheses to
explain Albert Einstein’s productivity. Recently, some have argued that he
worked with a secret collaborator, his first wife Mileva
Marić. It would be an extraordinary story.
Famous physicist steals credit from his modest wife. Such a story, if true,
would be of great interest to social historians, and it would serve as a
vehicle for reaffirming the rights of women and for encouraging female students
to study physics. In that sense, it’s a good story. But is it true?
Like many
extraordinary stories, it might be tempting to simply disbelieve it, to dismiss
it as fiction. But if you are a teacher, you may soon find that some of your
students ask you ‘Is it true that Einstein’s wife co-authored his famous theories?
’ Because, there are currently several books and many
Internet websites that ascribe to Mileva Marić a contributing role in the creation of
Einstein’s works.
In 2003,
television stations in the
Carl Sagan used to say: ‘extraordinary claims require
extraordinary evidence’. So let’s analyse some of
the ‘evidence’ that the proponents of Marić have
highlighted. By doing so, teachers and laypersons can increasingly distinguish
the various degrees to which misinformation can be misconstrued as history.
Evidence
in context
In the 1980s,
old letters between Einstein and Marić were
made public by members of their family. In some of those letters, written
around 1900, Einstein briefly alluded to projects on which the two seem to
have collaborated. He used expressions such as ‘our research’, ‘our paper’ and, most
interesting, ‘our work on relative motion’ (Renn and Schulmann,
1992: 41, 39). Specialists in history of physics were fascinated but concluded
that such letters are just too vague, and do not establish that Marić contributed in any of Einstein’s publications.
Still, plenty of non-specialists also began to ponder roles that Marić conceivably could have played.
Consider
an example. Christopher Jon Bjerknes, author of Albert
Einstein: the incorrigible plagiarist (2002), claimed that ‘We have
direct evidence from Albert’s own pen that the work on relativity theory was a
collaboration between Mileva and him’ (p. 201). He cited the suggestive
letter. Translated, the sentence in question reads: ‘How happy and proud
will I be, when we both together have brought our work on the relative motion
victoriously to its end!’ (Stachel, 1987: 282, trans. AM.). Non-specialists might
hastily conclude that this letter refers to the theory of relativity. But it
does not. One important point that Bjerknes omits is
that the letter was written in 1901. By no means did Einstein have the theory
of relativity in 1901. At that time, he believed in the ether and sought ways
to detect its relative motion experimentally. This problem of ‘the relative
motion’ was a widespread
concern; many people aimed to solve it. Einstein attempted many approaches
until he abruptly devised his theory in 1905.
Nevertheless,
the letter constitutes evidence that Einstein shared the aspiration with Marić, at least at a time midway through the ten-year
process during which he pondered questions on relative motion. It is well known
that his obstinacy carried him through. But what about her? We know that she
failed college examinations twice. She then abandoned her plan to obtain the
teaching degree. We also know that she abandoned her efforts to do a PhD thesis
(for more on Marić, see Stachel,
1996).
Charitable
exaggerations
One
writer, Dord Krstic (1991),
claimed that ‘From the spring of 1898 until the fall of 1911, Mileva worked daily at the same table with Albert –
quietly, modestly, and never in public view ’ (p. 98). This is a speculative
exaggeration. The two could not work ‘daily at the same table’ because, of course, they were not
always at the same place. For example, from mid-1900 until December 1902 they
lived mostly in different cities, even in different countries. Moreover, the
two did not leave any written evidence that they regularly worked together on
physics once they reunited in
Regardless,
Krstic wrote: ‘Almost simultaneously, Marie Curie
opened the door into the world of radiophysics and
radiochemistry and Mileva Einstein bravely began to
explore the secrets of quantum and relativity – the fields that even today we
call modern physics’ (p. 85). Does it sound like a good story?
What role
did Mileva play once she lived with Einstein in
Maurice
Solovine writes: Mileva would
sit in the corner during our meetings listening attentively. She occasionally
joined in. I found her reserved, but intelligent, and clearly more interested
in physics than in housework.
Where did
the producers of the show get this information? The source can be traced to the
book Einstein in love, where Dennis Overbye
wrote:
Marriage
had made Mileva a de facto member of the
This
passage sounds plausible. Since Albert and Mileva now
lived together, it is easy to imagine that Mileva
now participated to some extent in the meetings of the Academy. But what is the
evidence? What Solovine actually wrote was
only that once Einstein and Marić married:
That
event did not effect any changes in our meetings. Mileva,
intelligent and reserved, listened to us attentively, but never intervened in
our discussions. (Solovine, 1956:
xii, trans. A. M.)
Compare
this passage to the derivative accounts. Writers have skewed the history. Solovine did not write that Marić
‘occasionally’ or ‘rarely’
contributed, nor that she was ‘clearly more interested in physics than in
housework ’. There is no evidence that she was an active participant. In
none of the correspondence between Einstein, Habicht,
and Solovine, does Marić
appear as a ‘member ’ of the Academy, nor even in Marić’s
own letters.
So readers
beware. Moreover, errors lurk even in reliable places. For example, the Collected
papers of Albert Einstein (Klein, Kox and Schulmann, 1993: 617) state that the Academy began in
Easter of 1903. But that is a mistake. The meetings began in the Spring of
1902, months before Mileva lived in
Einstein
had lively discussions with Solovine and Habicht. He also greatly enjoyed discussing his research
with his close friend Michele Besso, whose help he
acknowledged in his first paper on relativity. What about discussions with Marić? Consider a statement that her proponents never
cite. Philipp Frank, a colleague and friend who
interviewed Einstein for a biography, noted that Marić
‘was taciturn and reticent ’ and that ‘When he [Einstein] wanted to
tell her, as a fellow specialist, his ideas, which overflowed from him, her
reaction was so scant and faint, that often he just did not know whether she
was interested or not ’ (Frank, 1949: 39, 44, trans. A.M.).
Checking
the sources
In her
book, In the shadow of Albert Einstein: the tragic life of Mileva Einstein-Marić , Desanka Trbuhovic-Gjuric
(1969/1993: 79) claimed that the Russian physicist Abram Joffe,
in his article ‘In remembrance of Albert Einstein’, pointed out that the 1905
papers were originally signed ‘Einstein-Marić’.
Following Trbuhovic-Gjuric, Evan Harris Walker wrote a letter to Physics
Today ,
published in 1991, reiterating the claim.
To add
credibility to their claims, writers who ascribe such words to Joffe often add that he was a successful and respected
physicist. Hence they attempt to argue by appeals to authority along with
allusions to purported evidence. But what did Joffe
actually write?
First, Zackheim and others are wrong in claiming that in his book Meetings
with physicists Joffe claimed anything about how
the 1905 manuscripts were signed. He did not even claim to have ever seen them.
As for the article ‘In remembrance of Albert Einstein’, published in 1955, it
was an obituary for Einstein. Literally translated, it reads:
In
the year 1905, in Annals of Physics , there appeared three articles, thereupon
beginning three most important, relevant directions in the physics of the 20th
century. Those were: the theory of Brownian motion, the photon theory of light
and the theory of relativity. Their author – unknown until that time, a
bureaucrat at the Patent Office in Bern, Einstein-Marity
(Marity – the last name of his wife, which by Swiss
custom is added to the last name of the husband). (Joffe, 1955: 187, trans. A. M.)
This
passage shows that, for example,
Still,
proponents of Marić have tried to make something
out of the fact that Joffe happened to write ‘Marity’ instead of ‘Marić’.
For example, Walker claimed that Joffe just had to
have seen an original paper, with the name Marity on
it, because otherwise he would not have known the alternative spelling of Marić, since it ‘apparently is not found in any of
the Einstein biographies ’ (Walker, 1991: 123). Again,
The key
point remains the same. Joffe did not claim that Marić co-authored or collaborated in any of Einstein’s
papers. And he did not claim that her name was on the original manuscripts or
that he ever saw any such manuscripts. In multiple places throughout his
career, like anyone else, Joffe acknowledged Einstein
for having authored the famous works of 1905.
In a
particularly careless confusion, the producers of Einstein’s Wife and
the companion website pictured a fragment of a page that reads that the
articles were ‘signed Einstein-Marity’, purportedly
written by Joffe. But the page pictured is instead
from a popular science book from 1962, by a Russian writer, Daniil
Semenovich Danin, who,
again, did not even claim to have ever seen the original manuscripts or
to have known anyone who had (Danin, 1962: 57).
Suppose,
imagine, that some credible individual actually had claimed to have seen
manuscripts that listed Marić as co-author. Would
that constitute evidence? It would only constitute the testimony of an alleged
witness. Further evidence would be required to substantiate the claim.
Likewise, imagine that a famous scientist, or perhaps a wealthy writer, gets
divorced. And suppose that then the ex-spouse claims to actually have been the
true author of some works. Such allegation, by itself, would not constitute
authorship. We might reply: ‘That is a serious allegation.What
evidence do you have to support it?’
Lacking
evidence, some writers cultivate rampant speculations. For example, Bjerknes (2002) claims that Einstein probably stole the
credit from Marić and that she, in turn,
probably plagiarised the ideas from other writers.
Who really
said what?
In her
book, Zackheim (1999) claims that ‘Mileva and Albert’s son Hans Albert told Peter Michelmore, an Einstein biographer, that Mileva helped Albert “solve Certain mathematical problems”.’ (p. 19). Is Zackheim claiming that Marić
spoke with Michelmore? We must reject that impression
because Michelmore never met Marić.
Better syntax would be: ‘Hans Albert Einstein, son of Mileva
and Albert, told Peter Michelmore ...’.
Michelmore
(1962) wrote that, while Einstein struggled to solve puzzles of relative motion
in electrodynamics, ‘Mileva helped him
solve certain mathematical problems, but nobody could assist with the creative
work, the flow of fresh ideas’(p.
45) .
But is it
true that Hans Albert really told that to Michelmore?
We do not know. It is conceivable that he did. But strictly speaking,
the historical evidence does not certify the claim. We know what Michelmore published. We do not know for certain what parts
of it were really told to him by Hans Albert. He visited and interviewed Hans
Albert for two days in February of 1962, in
he
answered all my questions, and waited while I wrote down the answers. He did
not ask to check my notes, or edit my book. He trusted me. It was the sort of
naiveté his father had. Thank God for all naive people, and I use the word in
its noblest sense. (p.
vii)
Unfortunately,
when interviewees do not check writer’s accounts, errors and inaccuracies often
increase.
Alongside
correct and verifiable statements, Michelmore’s book
also includes incorrect information. For example, he mentioned that while
Einstein studied at the Polytechnic in
Years ago,
John Stachel, editor of the Collected
papers of Albert Einstein, enquired whether Michelmore’s
family happened to posses Michelmore’s manuscript or
ideally the notes from the interview with Hans Albert. The answer was negative.
If we had the notes from the interview, then perhaps we might know what Hans
Albert apparently told Michelmore.
Faced with
such ambiguities, each historian must decide whether to believe, disregard, or
at least incorporate, a given passage into a historical reconstruction. Personally,
in a manuscript that I am finishing on the origins of special relativity, I
chose to incorporate Michelmore’s suggestive words
about Mileva. But I hope that readers will realise that the sentence in question is not necessarily a
photograph of the events that happened. It is but a passing claim that appears
in a popular biography written by an author who only interviewed a son of the
individuals in question, a biography that was not proofread by the individuals
discussed in it or by the interviewee. It was written and published almost 60
years after the event in question. Hans Albert himself could not possibly
testify to such an event, since he was a one-year- old baby in the spring of
1905. Hence, if he actually spoke such words in 1962, he was merely voicing a
conjecture or echoing words voiced by someone else. The point is to distinguish
this kind of indirect claim from evidence from the historical moment.
Several
documents shed light on Marić around 1905. For
example, Krstic provided this translation of a letter
from Marić to her friend Helene Savic, written after the 1905 papers were published (see
endnote 2):
My
husband spends all of his free time at home, often playing with the boy; but
... I would like to remark that this, together with his official job, is not
the only work he does – he is writing a great number of scientific papers.
(Krstic, 1991: 94)
As usual
in her letters to her intimate friend, Mileva made no
claim of working on science herself, ever since she left college. Now notice the
ellipsis in the quotation above. What did Krstic
omit? An uncut translation of the original letter was published later by a
grandson of Helene Savic (see end-note 3). It reads:
My
husband often spends his leisure time at home playing with the little boy, but
to give him his due, I must note that it is not his only occupation aside from
his official activities; the papers he has written are already mounting quite
high. (Popovic, 2003: 88)
So we see
that Krstic chose to omit a phrase in which Marić herself further acknowledged Einstein’s labours; she gave him his due credit.
Likewise,
on 3 September 1909, when Einstein was receiving much recognition from
physicists, Marić wrote to her friend ‘I am
very happy for his success, because he really does deserve it ’ (Popovic,
2003: 98).
·
1 Original notes and drafts of the
scientist’s labours and ruminations
·
2 Contemporary private diaries of
the scientist, peers, or friends
·
3 Contemporary documents such as
letters to friends
·
4 Contemporary accounts of
statements among scientists and peers
·
5 Manuscripts, the original
scientific work
·
6 Early retrospective accounts by
the scientist
·
7 Early interviews of the
scientist, proofread by the scientist
·
8 Later retrospective accounts by
the scientist
·
9 Later interviews of the
scientist, proofread by the scientist
·
10 Systematic interviews by
historians, psychologists, or other specialists
·
11 Informal interviews of the
scientist
·
12 Recollections that exist only
in an indirect form, such as a transcribed lecture
·
13 Retrospective accounts that exist
only in a doubly indirect form
·
14 Late recollections by an
intimate acquaintance
·
15 Biography based on interviews,
approved by the scientist and interviewees
·
16 Account based on multiple
interviews but not proofread by the interviewees
·
17 Account of interviews with a
close relative or peer, proofread by that person
·
18 Material based partly on
interviews from a relative, peer, or acquaintance
·
19 Rough translations of
biographies or sources
·
20 Hearsay, late indirect accounts
of what someone allegedly told someone else
Distinguishing
among sources
Students
and laypersons may lack a clear understanding of the extent to which different
sources warrant different degrees of credibility. Therefore, it seems useful to
illustrate such differences. Historians sometimes disagree on what weight to
attribute to any one document, but I can at least sketch my own outlook.
The list
in
This list
is not exhaustive. My aim is only to distinguish among some different kinds of
information. The line following item 5 sets a boundary between evidence
generated during the production of the scientific work and various kinds of
hindsight and conjecture.
In this
scale, the biography written by Michelmore falls on
level 18. In contradistinction, a letter by Einstein to his friend Conrad Habicht, written in May of 1905, while he was drafting the
paper on relativity, counts as evidence of level 4. That letter, which
historians cite often, is a precious though narrow window to the creative
moment. There are many different kinds of information between the two, to which
we ascribe various degrees of reliability.
For
example, in 1922 Einstein delivered a lecture in
Readers
can identify how the different claims about Marić
fall at various levels in the list above. Any document, even a document from
level 1, can include errors, omissions, inaccuracies or even lies. Likewise,
information of all kinds can include truthful claims, of course. The important
point is to realise that the further a document
stands away from the period it purportedly describes, the more layers of
potential inaccuracy. Inaccuracies can exist in the translation, rewording,
interpolation, and so forth. A letter written, even decades later, by a
participant in the events in question, can still be very informative, even
though placed at level 14, though we should still be careful with its contents.
More so, an even later account, by someone who was not present at the events in
question, involves greater uncertainties. Unfortunately, we cannot always
confirm or refute all such uncertainties. But we should at least acknowledge
them.
Teachers
should carefully grant different degrees of trust to various sources. Most
readers do not usually have the time or opportunity to research and examine the
validity of a given source of information. Nevertheless, one should cultivate a
moderate scepticism, especially against outstanding
stories that resonate with what we would personally like to believe. We can
teach students that historical claims should be inspected carefully, as when
testing hypotheses in science. Too often, writers enamoured
with a sensational conjecture tend to misread evidence. Too often, they seek
not to test a hypothesis, but to confirm it. But what makes a good story, or
plausible fiction, is not necessarily what makes good history.
End-notes
1 Einstein’s
Wife was produced by an Australian company, Melsa
Films, in association with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and Oregon Public
Broadcasting in the United States.
2 Krstic (1991: 94) dated this letter as being from ‘the
very beginning of 1906’.
3 Popovic (2003:88) dated this letter as being from
December 1906, apparently following notes by Julka Savic, see p. xi. The historians who edited The
collected papers of Albert Einstein Vol. 5 (Klein, Kox
and Schulmann. Princeton:
References
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This
article was first published in School Science Review and is republished
here by permission. Copyright 2005, Alberto A. Martínez and School Science Review.
Alberto A.
Martínez. Handling
evidence in history: the case of Einstein’s Wife. School Science Review, 86 (316), March 2005, pp. 49-56.