But even Einstein's patience can come to an end, and this is at the point where "society" begins: I mean the congregation of persons in a salon, society entertainments to which one is invited to be seen, and so that one may claim to have been there. A solemn representation in which he is to be made the cynosure of all eyes is a torture to him. If in a very exceptional case he is compelled to participate in such a gathering, the joy of his hosts will not be entirely unmixed, for it does not require a thought-reader to recognize the longing for solitude imprinted on his countenance: "Could I but escape!" So much the happier does he feel himself in the narrow circle of his friends, who offer what means to him much more than admiration, namely, affection, and an appreciation of his human self. He is what one wishes him to be. He is happy when he can forget the doctor profundus, and can yield himself up to the atmosphere of stimulating and unconstrained converse. He is a master in the art of listening, and is not averse to contradiction; when possible, he even emphasizes the arguments of his opponent. _Audiatur et altera pars_! This is a further manifestation of his altruistic personality, which rejoices when he extracts the true kernel from the husk of the opposing opinion. Here he also displays a characteristic which one does not usually expect to find among abstract thinkers, a sense of humour that runs through the whole gamut from a gentle smile to hearty laughter, and that is the happy source of many a striking sally. It may happen that the subject of conversation excites his anger, especially in political debates when he calls to mind militaristic or feudal misgovernment. He then becomes roused, and, as a cynical philosopher, sarcastically attacks personalities and points out the primary source of perennial hate, immediately afterwards soaring up to happy speculations of the future. It is a matter for regret that the subjects that he has discoursed on lightly have not been fixed phonographically. Such records would form an interesting supplement to the conversations outlined in this book. It would never occur to him to set down in permanent literary form the inspiration of the moment. What he writes emanates from other regions, and is, to use his own expression, a precipitate of "thick ink." This is obvious, for what he has to proclaim as a scientist cannot be presented in a "thin" form. But many a so-called writer would have reason to congratulate himself, if so much thinly flowing matter occurred to him in writing as to Einstein in speaking. * * * * * * * * The record of these conversations was begun in the summer of 1919, and completed in the autumn of 1920. INDEX Aristoteles, 41 Arrhenius, 144