Questa storia di Mileva l'ho sentita anche in un documentario, che attribuiva alla società maschilista il mancato riconoscimento del suo apporto alla teoria della relatività. Forse qualche barbuto profesore le ha impedito di pubblicare le sue eccezionali scoperte. Oppure Mileva avrebbe considerato la fisica un trascurabile hobby casalingo, restando in silenzio mentre il marito pubblicava le scoperte di lei. Silenzio osservato anche negli anni successivi, in cui non risultano tracce del suo misconosciuto genio.
Niente di nuovo sotto il sole, questo articolo è degli anni '20:
Einstein, the
Child-like Master, who is
Mothered by His Wife.
It was Mrs. Einstein who greeted me. A sweet, lovable, motherly woman,
whose attitude towards her distinguished husband is that of a doting parent towards a precocious child.
There was the sound of bare feet on the floor, and holding a black and white bathrobe about him, apparently oblivious of his surroundings, Einstein himself entered ... about his entire manner there is a repressed and malleable quality that is
almost childlike, and this is accentuated by his wife’s attitude towards him.
As he stood there saying he would be ready in a few minutes, it was easy to understand why
his home showed so little of his personality. It is doubtful if he even knows what is in it. . . .
Patting him on the back, his wife told him to get dressed, and as he left the room, with a smile she said: ‘He is terribly hard to manage.’Mother-like Care.
In a few minutes he returned. His brown suit needed pressing, and on his feet he wore, over wool socks, a pair of open-work sandals. His coat collar was half turned up at the back, and as we started to go upstairs, Mrs. Einstein went over to him, fixed his collar and arranged his hair,
much as a mother sending her boy to school.
We came to the top floor.... I was in his study.... Before I had arranged my materials he had taken from his pockets some scraps of paper on which there were figures, and also a black fountain pen, and as if he were absolutely alone he began jotting down notes. As far as he was concerned I was not there.... As I left I asked him what he considered the formula for success in life. He smiled, that same
awkward bashful smile.
*Tratto da Doom of Youth (Chatto & Windus, 1932)