Features
The Dark Side of Albert: Einstein and Mileva Marić, his First Wife
By DAVID TOPPER Albert Einstein was the most photographed scientist of the 20th century. The scope of emotions depicted range from the serious to the silly: from looking like a secular saint with hands folded and deep in contemplation of supposedly solemn thoughts, to the image hanging in front of me on the bulletin board over my computer table, showing him sticking out his tongue at the cameraman. Living during the heyday of the development of the film camera, he and the press surely took advantage of it. The positive persona of the genius was formed out of these visual images. This visual disposition was supplemented with endless quotations on not only science and the universe, but also with homilies on life and how to live it, with much of that which you will find quoted, being things he never said. Overall, the general image of him and his personality has him coming out seemingly squeaky-clean.
Nonetheless, those of us who have looked into the man in more detail are aware of episodes of less than saintly behavior by Albert – the famous scientific idol. If, for example, you read any of the half-dozen or so lengthy biographies about him, you will find scattered therein stories of him speaking inappropriately or behaving, one might say, as a jerk. Having read all those books, and others – and even written three books on him myself – I knew this. So when I started reading a recent long biography of his first wife, Mileva Marić, I had no reason to think I’d be shocked, since I had already read a lot about her, including a book of letters to and from her best friend, which also contained a brief biography. But to my surprise, I was staggered in reading over 400 pages of his nasty behavior concentrated around this one woman – a woman whom he fell in love with as a university student, and who was the only mother of his children.
Here is the sad – and probably surprising to most readers – story of Mileva and Albert.
Mileva Marić was born on December 19, 1875, into a Christian Orthodox Serbian family. With a dislocated left hip, she walked with a limp throughout her life. (Her sister, Zorka, had the same congenital condition.) Forced to wear an orthopedic shoe, she was teased and mocked in school. Nonetheless, this very bright girl filled her lonely childhood with her studies (she was especially good at math) and piano lessons. Encouraged by a very loving father, she excelled in school, and was the first girl to attend high school physics courses in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. After graduating in 1896, she applied to the prestigious Zurich Polytechnic, since in Switzerland women were admitted to all classes. She passed the entrance exam and majored in mathematics. It was a small freshman class of about two-dozen students, she being the only woman. That’s where she met, in the even smaller physics course, fellow student, Albert Einstein.
One of the earliest pictures we have of Mileva is dated 1897. In this portrait, I see a very serious, confident, determined woman with large penetrating eyes, a full crop of dark wavy hair and full lips. I would call her plain but attractive. I say this, because I was shocked at several instances when someone, upon first meeting Mileva, is quoted as describing her as “ugly.”
As a fellow student, Albert Einstein was attracted to her, and they quickly became a couple. He probably was the first male to take a romantic interest in her, overlooking her “handicap.” I suspect he was attracted to her gutsy attitude and her smartness. Plus, being Serbian, Mileva exuded an exotic “otherness” to the “German” in Albert. They spent most of their free time together, studying and falling in love. She did well in her courses, initially passing all of them, as Albert did too (of course). That is, until she was pregnant – a fact she tried to hide until she could not. And so she went home to her parents to inform them of this, and eventfully to have the baby.
Her parents were very supportive, which was unusual for the times. A girl was born early in 1902; they named her Lieserl (probably a Yiddish diminutive of Liese, a shortened Elizabeth). Albert stayed in Zurich and never saw his daughter; she was raised by Mileva’s parents, as Mileva returned to Zurich to continue her studies. No one knows what ultimately happened to Lieserl; she has seemingly vanished from all records. She may have died from Scarlet Fever as a child; or, she may have been adopted and grew up. One thing I do know: Mileva never forgot her. I believe that the loss of Lieserl is the major reason for Mileva’s depression and lingering melancholia throughout her life – as will be seen. As a result, she didn’t take care of her grooming and was a bit overweight – as seen in photos of her later in life. This, I suspect, may be a source of her “ugliness.”
Back to Zurich in the late 1890s and her studies: she passed all her courses over the first three years, and in her fourth year she started her thesis, hoping for a diploma and further work toward a PhD. But in 1900 she failed her final exams, while the other male students all passed. In July 1901 she repeated her final exams and flunked them again. I find it hard to believe that this sudden change in her performance was due to the tests being too tough for this woman, in light of all we know of her up to this time. Look at the last date above: she was pregnant with her child. I’m convinced that she just couldn’t concentrate on her studies. Albert passed, graduated, and started looking for a job – as well as working toward his PhD.
On January 6, 1903, they were married in a small civil ceremony. Mileva became a housewife; no more thinking of going any further in her studies. She then became the mother of two boys: Hans Albert (born in 1904) and Eduard (nicknamed Tete; in 1910).
All that promise came to nothing, not even a university degree. If she had not met Albert, who knows what she would have achieved? But that was not the path taken, and since she married what became the most famous scientist of the 20th century – if not the most famous person, as Time Magazine said at the end of the millennium – that’s why there is a plethora of documentation about her life, terribly sad as it was.
Now briefly fast forward a century or so, to around 1987, and the publication of the early love letters between Albert and Mileva, which had only been known by a few, and purposely suppressed. For example, Hans Albert, who had the letters much earlier, had wanted to publish them. But he was thwarted by Helen Dukas and Otto Nathan, who threatened litigation. Dukas was Albert’s lifelong secretary and Nathan was an economist and close friend, who eventually was the executor of Einstein’s will. And so, the letters never surfaced until Dukas and Nathan were both dead.
Even today, writing about these letters is an ideological minefield. Here’s why. The letters date from 1899 to 1903, when a new theory of physics was brewing in Albert’s mind. The result, in the so-called miracle year of 1905, was the publication of five papers that changed physics forever: two on what became his Theory of Relativity; one on a particle theory (much later called a photon) of light, as part of the emerging Quantum Theory; and two supporting the reality of atoms, which were still only hypothetical entities at this time. Knowing this, how much can we read into the love letters when Albert, in talking about his scientific ideas, uses “we” and “our work”? Well, it seems, a lot; for the initial response from primarily feminist quarters was that Mileva should at least be seen as a co-author of the famous papers, since it seemed that they conceived of the theory together. Given, as we will see, Albert’s shabby treatment of her later in life, then all the more sympathy was directed toward Mileva and her plight by history. Indeed, some went so far (you will still find websites saying this) that Albert stole the theory of relativity from Mileva. Nonetheless, after that initial flurry of debate, the consensus has moved away from this viewpoint, so that today the select scholars looking over the Einstein Papers Project in Pasadena, California assert unabashedly that Mileva made no input to Albert’s theory.
Nonetheless, I am one of the few “Einstein scholars” (if I may call myself such), who gives Mileva some credit in the 1905 marvel. She was good at mathematics, she had patience in her life and work, and she was a thorough researcher – all qualities severely lacking in Albert. Let me put it this way: over his life as a physicist, Einstein hired a series of companions (whom he called “calculators”) to do the tedious and complicated mathematics required for his theory, especially as it developed over the later years with the use of tensor calculus in his General Theory of Relativity. All were men; except, famously, his last calculator was the Israeli-American woman, Buria Kaufmann – about whom you will read in the literature as his “first female calculator.” (Incidentally, there is a website giving her credit for Einstein’s later theory, which is complete fiction.) I, however, would assert that Buria was the second woman; for Mileva was Albert’s first “calculator.” She was also his researcher and proofreader. Since she knew the physics, as we know from the letters, she also was his sounding-board – Albert bouncing ideas off of Mileva, as they say.
So, what about Albert speaking of “we” and “our work”? Let me put this into context by quoting from some of the letters in chronological order. In a letter Mileva wrote to Helene Savić (née Kaufler), her closest and longest friend throughout her life (they roomed together in a boarding house in Zurich when they were students), she speaks of a paper “written” by Albert that will be published soon that is “very significant.” She then says that “we” sent it to an important physicist – revealing how much she was involved with Albert’s work. Later in a letter from Albert to Mileva, let me quote from the opening lines to give you a trace of their intimacy: “Thank you very much for your little letter and all the true love that’s in it. I kiss and hug you for it from all my heart, exactly the way you would want it & are entitled to, love.” He then goes into a discussion of other people, followed by his going back to how much they love each other, and ending with this key sentence. “How happy and proud I will be when the two of us together will have brought our work on the relative motion to a victorious conclusion.” I put in italics the famous (or is it infamous?) phrase: our work. But there’s nothing more on this, although a bit later in the letter he goes on to talk about another physics problem he is working on: specific heats. He discusses the physics problem in detail, with equations and his proposed solution, and he ends the topic with this: “Don’t forget to look up to what extent glass obeys the law of Dulong and Petit.” My guess is that it was this sort of task that was part of their work together. The letter ends where it began. “Tender greetings and kisses, my dear little dumpling, from your … Albert.”
I’ll leave the topic there, nonetheless aware of the possibility that Mileva did help Albert in even more significant ways, and that hence she’s been slighted by history.
Back to Zurich in 1903. Initially, their life together was harmonious, a reflection of the camaraderie in the love letters, as she kept house and raised her boys. But by around 1909, when Albert was being seen as an important physicist, there clearly was a severe strain on the marriage. For example, in a letter that year to Helene, she says that Albert “lives only for his work” and the family is “unimportant to him.” By 1914, when they moved to Berlin for Albert’s prestigious position at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute of Physics, their marriage entered a new phase. In fact, Albert had been having relations with a divorced cousin, Elsa Löwenthal, who lived in Berlin. Moreover, Albert made it clear to Mileva that their previous relationship was over. He went so far as to give her a list of demands: that she do the laundry, prepare him three meals a day, and keep his office clean – all without any personal relations. No intimacy in the house, and no being together in public. It was degradingly cruel: Mileva’s role was reduced to being a maid and cook. She tried to accept it, but quickly found that she couldn’t endure the humiliation; and so she took her two boys back to Zurich, where she remained for the rest of her life.
They officially divorced in 1919, and Albert immediately married Elsa – all in the same year that he became the world-famous scientist, because of the solar eclipse experiment that proved that light from a star is bent around the sun, as predicted by his theory. He got the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1921 and transferred the money to a bank in Zurich for the support of their boys, where Mileva had access to the interest in the account.
What happened after all that infatuation seen in the love letters and in their early life together? In retrospect, Mileva surely realized that she had ignored or overlooked what we might call the dark side of Albert. As a student he was overly sarcastic, often mocking and even degrading people whom he saw as inadequate or not too smart. He even teased her in ways that revealed an underlying hostility. When she pointed this out, he would laugh it off – and she’d forgive him. In a letter to Helena in 1900 she writes of Albert’s “wicked words with deeds! What an insolent boy he is, and yet I love him so much!” Telling words. Even after the acrimonious divorce, she still, as will be seen, was under Albert’s spell. I believe that she never got over that initial infatuation when they were students. It became a pattern: she was always trying to get on his good side.
Overall, Albert was very much a 19th century male chauvinist in his attitude and communications with women. Here are some of his words about women that reveal his overt misogyny: they are “passive, insecure, needy, and wanting to be dominated.” I knew that he liked to flirt with women throughout his life. But seeing him do so with other wives, with Mileva present, made it less frivolous and more malicious. In short, he was a cad and a rake, rolled into one.
The turnaround in their relationship seemed to bring out the worst in him. He was petty and vindictive, and especially very cruel towards her. There is no direct evidence of any real physical abuse. However, there was an incident in the spring of 1913 when a friend reported seeing Mileva with a badly swollen face, which was attributed to a “toothache” – and hence she and Albert missed some social events. Possibly the swollen face was a sign of something more malevolent, but we will never know the truth. Nonetheless, pondering this, I wish to quote something Albert wrote in a letter in 1925: “Not only children need a bit of thrashing, but also grownups and especially women.” And I’ll leave it there.
After the divorce, he accused her of poisoning his relationship with the boys – a common trope between divorcing couples. But it got more vicious as her financial situation became grave, and she asked for more money. She made some extra money tutoring students in math and giving piano lessons. But it wasn’t enough. Albert’s letters to her contain nasty personal attacks: saying she is “abnormal,” a “nonentity,” and that her pleading is “rubbish.” I can only imagine how Mileva felt being called this. At the time, she was in severe physical pain with chronic back problems, often forcing her into bed for long periods, even stays in hospital, when she was trying to raise two boys alone. Moreover, all this was exacerbated by problems in her Serbian family. Her sister Zorka was diagnosed as schizophrenic and was in and out of asylums; her only living brother disappeared into Russia after World War I; and her parents had serious financial problems.
Could it get any worse? It could. And it did. Tete became a handful. He was very bright and creative; he had musical talent on the piano, and he wrote promising poems and stories. But he was also prone to falling into depressive episodes, for apparently no reason – anger fits, throwing things, being out of control. I suppose Mileva saw this coming: Tete, like her sister, eventually was diagnosed as schizophrenic.
Albert, of course, knew all this, but being in Berlin, he didn’t have to deal with it. He did make occasional visits and took summer trips with the boys (giving Mileva short breaks), all while he was still living in Europe. But when he moved to Princeton, N.J., in 1933, with Hitler in power in Germany and Einstein’s name being high on a hit list, their meetings were over; until 1938, when Hans Albert (now with a wife and two children) moved to the USA. The last meeting between Albert and Tete is recorded in a 1933 photograph that bears a close look. Both are seated in a room, with Tete looking over a large, open portfolio – perhaps reading it. Albert is facing in a different direction (about 90-degrees away), holding a violin and bow, and staring off into space. It may be that Tete is reading to him, but more likely they are inhabiting two different worlds.
In the years during World War II, living in Zurich, Switzerland (a country surrounded by a Nazi-occupied Europe), Mileva was terrified that the Nazis would swoop up this last free space. Moreover, she knew that they were rounding up Jews by the trainloads and moving them to Concentration Camps. She was somewhat safe as an Orthodox Christian, but Tete was “Jewish,” being a child of Einstein. She wrote pleading letters to Albert, asking him to take Tete to the USA. She even contacted the Red Cross, and they agreed that the best bet was to get Albert to sponsor him. “Bring us to safety,” she wrote. But being Mileva – ever still the dutiful wife, even though they had been divorced for two decades – she added (and I assert that she was not being sarcastic in saying this), “[I am] not intending to disturb your peace and freedom.” Petrified that “Tete is in danger because he is your son,” she concluded: “you can’t just leave him in the lurch.”
In fact, Einstein, Dukas, and Nathan were diligently rescuing Jews from Europe by using Einstein’s name to get emigration papers and such. Albert once spoke of this, saying that they were running a little refugee office over his cluttered “lawyer’s desk.” And they did save lives. Relevant here is a 1939 letter from Albert to Helena on this very topic. Helena’s father was Jewish, and she had numerous relatives whose lives were in peril, and so apparently, she was asking Albert for help. He wrote in response. “How gladly would I help! But I am desperately trying to at least get younger people out. Relocation of old people must under present horrible conditions be set aside.” In the end, we know of two aunts of Helena who died in gas chambers. Interestingly, in this same letter, Albert mentions that Hans is now in America, but that Tete is with Mileva in Zurich, saying that Tete is “incurably mentally ill.”
So, what about Tete? And Mileva’s pleading letters? As far as we know, these pleading requests were never answered. Albert, it seems, did leave his son “in the lurch.” My guess is that he just couldn’t fathom the chaos in his life of dealing with someone with such a severe mental illness. Listen to what he later wrote to Hans about Tete after learning of Mileva’s death. “If I had been fully informed [apparently referring here to what he saw as a genetic mental illness in Mileva’s family], he [Tete] would never have come into the world.” I can only imagine how Hans must have felt after reading these appalling words from his father about his beloved brother. Sometimes Albert’s behavior is plainly pathetic. Fortunately, the Nazis never invaded Switzerland.
Much of Mileva’s adult life was centred on Tete, as she watched him descend into the depths of mental illness. Overweight and chain-smoking, he was in and out of mental institutions. For Mileva, he was a full-time job. She, being the caring mother, was obsessed with making sure he would be safe after she died. And she succeeded; for seven years after his mother died, he lived in the renowned Burghölzli psychiatric clinic in Zurich. He was 55 when he died.
I believe Mileva never got over two things: the loss of Lieserl and her infatuation with Albert. We don’t know what happened to Lieserl; but Mileva surely did, and it haunted her all of her life; as seen, she flunked her final chance for a university degree because of it. Lieserl was a source of her constant despondent behaviour and possibly her so-called “ugliness.” In a letter to Helena in 1925 she wrote of “my unfulfilled desire for a daughter”– another telling phrase, since she had a daughter, but was forced to abandon her.
Regarding Albert, no matter how abusive he was, Mileva still was open to forgiveness. She once asked herself this question: “When has a man ever listened to reason, when a woman is involved?” She should have listened to her own words.
Mileva Marić died on August 4, 1948, at the age of 72.
This story of Albert falling in and out of love with Mileva was not the first such episode in his life. It was previewed by and even overlapped with his first sweetheart: Marie Winteler.
In 1895 he spent a year enrolled in the cantonal school in the town of Aarau, near Zurich. He had taken the rigorous entrance exams for the Polytechnic (which Mileva later passed) and had flunked the non-science and non-math parts. But since he did so well on the science and math parts, it was recommended that he do a year of make-up in Aarau; plus, he was applying at age 16, a year early. He boarded with the family of Jost Winteler, a teacher at the school. Jost and Pauline had three daughters, the prettiest being Marie, two years older than Albert. Albert quickly fell for her, and she for him. She was an accomplished pianist, and so their love interests were supplemented with piano and violin duets. After that year, and after passing the entrance requirement at the Polytechnic, Albert moved to Zurich – where he met Mileva, and then broke off with Marie. In short, he jilted her, as he would later do with Mileva.
Marie, however, thought the relationship was to be forever, and wrote pleading letters when he stopped writing to her. After all, he was still mailing her his dirty laundry to wash and send back. (I am not making this up.) Being deeply hurt, she fell into a depression that (may have) plagued her throughout her life. She became a schoolteacher (whose records show that she missed a lot of classes due to sickness); in 1911 she married a man whose first name was Albert. They had two boys, but divorced in 1927. We also know that she tried to reach the first Albert in the 1940s about emigrating to the USA, but there is no record of his having received her letters. (Albert’s secretary was known to censor his mail.) She died in a mental institution in 1957, two years after Einstein died.
I mention this for two reasons. One, the obvious – this being a preview to the story of Albert’s shabby treatment of Mileva and the parallel terrible consequences. The other reason is the dirty laundry. This, also obviously, needs to be explained.
In 2019 I published an historical novel on Einstein’s life, called A Solitary Smile. In it, Marie is one of the characters, especially near the end and in a dream sequence that has Einstein recalling their time together, where he realizes how he hurt her. In recalling this part of my book, while writing this story of Mileva, and now Marie again – I suddenly realized that I didn’t include the dirty laundry bit. Why? I knew it then, as I do now. So why not mention it? Ruminating on this, I can only surmise that I was subconsciously protecting Albert from more scorn. Why dig up all the dirt (seemingly, literally in this case). How interesting this is. Me, being part of the problem. Protecting Albert’s image.
Well, I caught myself. And here I acknowledge my error – to supplement my saga on the dark side of Albert Einstein.
* * *
Readings: Mileva Marić Einstein: Life with Albert Einstein, by Radmila Milentijević (United World Press, 2010). In Albert’s Shadow: The Life and Letters of Mileva Marić: Einstein’s First Wife, edited by Milan Popović (The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003). A Solitary Smile: A Novel on Einstein, by David R. Topper (Bee Line Press, 2019).
Features
The Dream of Zion: Judah Halevi’s Quest
By DAVID R. TOPPER Today the term Zionism is debased by otherwise liberal-thinking former-friends of Jews and Israel. This is a fact. Nonetheless, I don’t wish to pursue present-day politics and debates on the issues around this fact. Except to point out that the former-friends’ error stems from a lack of knowledge of the history of the region – by just focusing on recent events.
Accordingly, I wish to put Zionism into a deeper historical perspective by recalling that, ever since the Roman destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, the idea of returning to Zion was fundamental to the Jews of the Diaspora. Being indigenous to that region of the Middle East – hence going back thousands of years – Jews continued having a presence there – even after the Temple was razed.
Moreover, and in particular, my aim is to recall the story of one the major Zionists in Jewish history – Judah Halevi.
But perhaps it is best to start with this brief factoid. The Hebrew word צִיּוֹן (pronounced Tzee-yohn) has no unique meaning – ranging across fortress, desert, or monument – with its origin still being debated by scholars. One common use is for Mount Zion, a hill in Jerusalem. Close by is Mount Moriah, where King Solomon built the first Temple. In time, the term Zion came to be used for both hills together, and eventually for all of Jerusalem. Thus, the term Zionism refers to the idea of the exiled Jews (the Diaspora) returning to their indigenous homeland, centred at Jerusalem. Surely this was what Halevi believed, even though the word itself was not coined until 1890.
Judah Halevi (also Yahuda ha-Levi) was born in 1075 (alt 1080) probably in Toledo, Spain. This was during the so-called Golden Age of Jewish Culture there. The Jews in Islamic Spain were relatively free – unlike the Jews of central Europe, who suffered under the despotic rule of feudal lords. Highly educated, Judah became a physician, philosopher, mathematician, and poet. Today it is his poetry that has designated him as the greatest Hebrew poet. He died in 1141, probably at the age of 66.
He is often paired with Maimonides, considered the greatest Jewish thinker, who lived a generation later (born 1135). Both were physicians to the courts of the Caliphs in Spain.
Around the year 1120, probably about age 45, Halevi settled in Seville, married, and had one daughter. Another child also may have died. Much later, his wife died, probably after their daughter grew up and had children. With the loss of his wife, Judah grew restless. The Dream of Zion beckoned.
My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west—
How can I find savour in food? How shall it be sweet to me?
How shall I render my vows and my bonds, while yet
Zion lies beneath the fetter of Edom, and I in Arab chains?
A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain—
Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.
This is one of a series of poems on this quest: called today The Songs of Zion, or the Zionides. His ultimate goal was to make aliyah to Jerusalem. To spend his final days there.
Zion! wilt thou not ask if peace be with thy captives
That seek thy peace—that are the remnants of thy flocks?
…
I would choose for my soul to pour itself out within that place
Where the spirit of God was outpoured upon your chosen.
…
I would fall, with my face upon the earth, and take delight
In thy stones and be tender to the dust.
…
Sweet would it be unto my soul to walk naked and barefoot
Upon the desolate ruins where the holiest dwellings were;
In the place of the Ark where it is hidden, and in the place
Of the cherubim which abode in the innermost recesses.
Sometime in 1140 he set out on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Taking a small ship through the Mediterranean, his mind was focused on the goal of being in Jerusalem.
Beautiful height! O joy! the whole world’s gladness!
O great King’s city, mountain blest!
My soul is yearning unto thee—is yearning
From the limits of the west.
…
And who shall grant me, on the wings of eagles,
To rise and seek thee through the years,
Until I mingle with the dust beloved,
The waters of my tears?
…
Shall I not to the very stones be tender?
Shall I not kiss them verily?
Shall not the earth upon my lips taste sweeter
Than honey unto me?
He, of course, also wrote poems about the sea voyage.
My God, break not the breakers of the sea,
Nor say Thou to the deep, ’Be dry’–
Until I thank Thy mercies, and I thank
The waves of the sea and the wind of the west;
Let them waft me to the place of the yoke of Thy love,
And bear far from me the Arab yoke.
There often were storms at sea.
Hath the flood come again and made the world a waste
So that one cannot see the face of the dry land,
And no man is there and no beast and no bird?
…
But only water and sky and ark,
And Leviathan making the abyss to boil,
So that one deems the deep to be hoary.
…
And the sea rages and my soul exults—
For the sanctuary of her God, she draws near.
It was a lonely trip. Thus, it’s not surprising to see him remember – and even dwell upon – the family that he left behind; especially, his daughter and her children.
Even so far that I can forsake her that went forth of my loins,
Sister of my soul—and she mine only one—
And I can forget her son, though it pierces my heart,
And I have nothing left but his memory for a symbol—
Fruit of my loins, child of my delight.
Yet, he remained focused on the goal – Zion.
But all this is a light thing when set against Thy love,
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
…
I cry to God with a melting heart and knees that smite together,
While anguish is in all loins,
On a day when the oarsmen are astonished at the deep,
When even the pilots find not their hands.
How shall I be otherwise, since I, on a ship’s deck,
Suspended between waters and heavens,
Am dancing and tossed about? —Yet this is but a light thing,
If I may but hold the festal dance in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem!
…
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who forms the mountain heights and created the wind.
The sea voyage ended in Alexandra, Egypt on Sept 8, 1140. He was welcomed by the large Jewish community there.
Praise, above all cities, be unto Egypt
Whither came first the word of God.
…
Fate has tossed me into the wilderness of Egypt:
Bid it carry me away and toss me yet again
Until I behold the wilderness of Judah.
Not surprisingly, while in Egypt he recalls Moses, whose name comes up in several poems. Here’s one.
My God, the wonder of Thee is astir from age to age:
And here is the Nile for witness, that Thou hast turned it into blood,
Not by magic …
But by Thy name, by the hand of Moses.
The Jews of Egypt begged him to stay. They must have been quite convincing – or, at least, they kept him occupied with things to do – because, despite his quest for Zion, he remained in Egypt until May 14, 1141, when he finally left – to resume his journey to Zion. (No matter how much I ponder this episode, I remain astonished that he stayed in Egypt over 8 months, especially since he was on the doorstep of Zion. It’s a fact that will ever bother me, and also remind me that no matter how much we may try – we can never really get into another’s mind.)
Can bodies of clay
Be prison-houses
For hearts bound fast
To eagles’ wings—
For a man life weary
Whose whole desire
Is to lay his face
In the chosen dust?
…
To cast Spain from him
And seek shores beyond;
…
To seek forgiveness
At the peaceful graves
Of the ark and the tablets
That are buried there.
It was an auspicious time to be in Palestine. From the fall of 1140 to the summer of 1141 was a period of relative peace and quiet. The land was governed as the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, which encompassed much of what today is the state of Israel. But, of course, Judah was a Jew, and Christian Crusaders had a notorious record of the indiscriminate slaughter of Jews in their wake as they were crossing Europe in their journey to liberate the Holy Land from the Muslims.
As fate would have it: Judah Halevi never got to test the relative peace of the Crusader Kingdom. How close he came to Jerusalem is unknown. All we know for sure is that he died on the way in 1141– probably in July or August.
The historian in me, therefore, expects me to end this story – right here. Done.
However, recalling all Judah went through, leaving his family, the storms at sea – the many, many Zionist poems, only a fraction of which I have quoted here – the Romantic side of me pleads that I bring up the legend that arose sometime after his death.
The legend says that Judah got as far as approaching the gates of Jerusalem. Then, while reciting his poem Ode to Zion – an Arab ran him through with a sword. In another version he was trampled by an Arab horseman. Hence, in either case, he fulfilled his dream of reaching Zion. But just reaching it. That’s all.
Since I may enter Thy gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart as
A burnt offering bound upon Your altar;
And may make my grave in Thy land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
I wish it were so. I do. But, as with most legends – this one probably isn’t true. He may not even have come close to Jerusalem.
In the end – and interestingly enough – Judah’s plight seemed to be echoing what happened to Moses in his yearning to see the Promised Land. It was just a quest. Only an (unfulfilled) quest.
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who formed the mountain heights and created the wind.
* * *
For English translations of his poems, I used: Selected Poems of Jehudah Halevi, edited by Heinrich Brody, trans. from the Hebrew by Nina Salaman (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publications Society of America, 1974).
The biography that I have is: The Life and Time of Jehudah Halevi, by Rudolf Kayser, trans. from the German by Frank Gaynor (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949). Kayser, incidentally, is a son-in-law (by marriage) of Albert Einstein.
Features
Elizabeth Taylor’s Jewish connection
By HANNON BELL (Special to jewishpostandnews.ca. All photos from Hannon Bell’s personal collection) Elizabeth Taylor’s Jewish connection may not be well known by the general public, but it played a significant role in her personal life, as well as in her film career.
Mike Todd, Eddie Fisher and Liz’s conversion to Judaism
In 1957, Jewish producer and promotor Mike Todd (whose real name was Avrom Goldbogen) was captivated by a then-25-year-old actress, Elizabeth Taylor, who had already had a long film career, shooting to fame with her star role in “National Velvet” when she was only 12.
By the time Taylor met Todd she had already been married twice before – to hotel magnate Nicky Hilton and British actor Michael Wilding.
Todd though, swept Taylor, with his charm and they married in Mexico in February 1957.
The marriage was attended by Taylor’s parents, Francis and Sara, as well as Todd’s best friend, singer Eddie Fisher, along with Fisher’s wife, actress Debbie Reynolds.
Unfortunately, the union (of which Elizabeth Taylor has said that of all her eight marriages, the ones to Todd and Richard Burton were the most meaningful) didn’t last long as Mike Todd was killed in a plane crash only one month after they were married. He was en route to New York from Los Angeles to attend a Friars Club testimonial dinner in his honour when his plane crashed in New Mexico while it was trying to fly through a storm – killing all onboard.
Ironically, Elizabeth was spared as she had a bad cold and was advised against the trip and chose to stay home.
In her bereavement, she sought out Todd’s best friend, Eddie Fisher.
With both of them seeking understanding and love over the loss of his friend and her husband, feelings went from comfort to love for one another.
The tide had turned and the dutiful widow had now become known as a home wrecker, upsetting the boundaries of America’s perfect couple, Eddie Fisher and pert Debbie Reynolds.
Prior to this though, Elizabeth had begun exploring Judaism during her brief marriage to Mike Todd.
To navigate her through this journey of discovery, Elizabeth studied with Rabbi Max Nussbaum.
In 1959, Elizabeth Taylor and Eddie Fisher were married in a civil and a Jewish ceremony – thus cementing her conversion to Judaism. Here is a photo showing Elizabeth with the Katuba (Jewish marriage certificate).
Discussing her long standing dream of conversion and finally realizing it, Taylor said, “It has nothing to do with any marriage plans. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” she told reporters.
For her conversion Elizabeth adopted the Hebrew name Elisheba Rachel, thus beginning her long devotion to Jewish causes, education and charitable causes.
“Cleopatra”
In perhaps her most famous role, as Cleopatra – in the film of the same name, because of her strong support for Israel, Elizabeth Taylor was not allowed into Egypt in 1962, where the film was scheduled to be partially shot.
As well, Arab nations also banned the showing of any of her films as a result of her conversion to Judaism.
That didn’t matter to Taylor – she could’t have cared less.
Ironically, Egyptians themselves were not able to see the movie about perhaps the most famous Egyptian of all time!
Eventually though, all was forgiven when, in September 1979 – following the signing of a peace accord between Egypt and Israel earlier that year, actress Elizabeth Taylor and 11 Israelis were honoured guests at the Fourth Cairo international Film Festival, which also marked the ending of the cultural boycott of Israel by Egypt.
It was during the festival that Elizabeth Taylor had a sit down with Egyptian President Anwar Sadat – at the presidential rest house in the Suez Canal city of Ismailia.
Devotion to Israel and the Jewish people
In my Elizabeth Taylor collection of over 100 catalogued binders with over 20,000 photos I document many instances of her devotion to Israel and the Jewish people.
In August 1975 Elizabeth Taylor, along with her then husband Richard Burton visited Israel.
A very meaningful moment occurred when Taylor touched the Wailing Wall in silent meditation.
In June of 1976 Elizabeth Taylor was honoured by the American Jewish Congress as an artist and humanitarian for her work in founding The Israeli War Victims Fund after the 1973 Yom Kippur War.
She was presented with her citation by Israeli Ambassador Shimcha Dinitz. Also pictured in a photo at the event is the President of the Congress, Rabbi Arthur Hertzberg.
It was around the same time as that event when she attended a reception where she met with Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York.
Begin referred to Elizabeth Taylor as a “good friend.”
Was that on a personal level or as a strong supporter of Israel?
I tend to believe it was the latter.
In 1977 Elizabeth received the Women’s Division of B’nai Brith’s humanitarian award at a special luncheon held by the Antidefamation League at New York’s St. Regis Hotel.
In May of 1979 Elizabeth attended the Israeli Bonds Dinner in New York.
As of 1979, Elizabeth Taylor had visited the State of Israel five times.
Elizabeth Taylor in films that had Jewish connections
“Love is Better Than Ever”
During the making of 1952’s “Love is Better Than Ever,” Elizabeth Taylor had just annulled her first marriage to Hilton Hotel heir Nicky Hilton when she became involved with the Jewish director of the film, Stanley Donen.
Elizabeth’s mother Sara is reported to have been unhappy and objected to the alliance due to the fact that Donen was Jewish.
“Ivanhoe”
In the 1952 film “Ivanhoe,” Elizabeth played the Jewish character Rebecca. One of the themes the film documents is antisemitism among the Normans and Ivanhoe’s friendship with the wealthy Jew Isaac and his daughter Rebecca.
“Victory at Entebbe”
On December 13, 1976, the movie “Victory at Entebbe” was aired on television in the U.S. The movie was based on true events surrounding the hijacking of Air France Flight 139 by Palestinian terrorists. The flight had departed from Tel Aviv and was headed to Paris when hijackers forced it to divert to Entebbe Airport in Uganda.
The story was close to Elizabeth’s heart and she said she participated in her small role as Edra Vilnovsky in “Victory at Entebbe” for the sake of her fellow Jewish people.
In the film she and costar Kirk Douglas played the Jewish parents of a 16-year-old girl held hostage at Entebbe.
An interesting side note worth mentioning is that Kirk Douglas was supposed to be on the same plane as Mike Todd the night it crashed in 1958. Douglas’s wife Anne had a strange premonition Kirk shouldn’t go on that flight. Fortunately for Anne Douglas, she was right.
“Genocide”
“Genocide” was a 1981 film released by the Simon Wiesenthal Centre. Writing in the New York Times, reviewer Janet Maslin noted that “Miss Taylor, whose narration is particularly simple and affecting, reads letters from victims of the Nazis, farewell to friends and loved ones and horrifying accounts by first hand observers.”
A reviewer in Variety commented that “ Genocide gains its greatest force as a film via Elizabeth Taylor’s emotional voice over of personal testimony by witnesses to the Holocaust terrors.
“A moving performance by Taylor conveys in human terms about a sober rendering of mere facts and figures cannot”.
The Krupp Diamond
Here’s another irony to Elizabeth Taylor’s life: In 1968 Richard Burton bought the famous Krupp diamond as a gift for his then-wife, Elizabeth Taylor.
This 33.19 carat stone was owned by Vera Krupp, whose husband was a Nazi munitions magnate.
Taylor described the the acquisition thusly: “I think it fitting and charming that a nice little Jewish girl like me has ended up with the Baron’s rock.”
In closing
Elizabeth Taylor’s love and fierce dedication to Judaism is something to be admired as she put her heart and soul into the many Jewish causes she supported.
When Elizabeth Taylor passed away on March 23, 2011 she was buried as per Jewish ritual.
May her memory be a blessing
About the author:
Throughout his life Hannon Bell has had many interests and passions.
As an actor he has performed on stage, on film, and on radio.
As a singer and songwriter he has written over 26 songs and won two lyric awards from the American Song Festival.
As a model in his younger days he won a TV commercial award at the Modelling Association of America Convention and Competition in NYC. The award was given to him by Christie Brinkley.
But, more than anything Hannon Bell is probably best known as the owner of the world’s largest collection of Elizabeth Taylor memorabilia.
It all started when, as a teenager in 1963, Bell saw the film “Cleopatra.”
HIs passion turned into a lifelong dedication so much so that Bell is considered an expert on all things Elizabeth Taylor.
Having compiled and catalogued Taylor’s life and career in over 100 binders with over 20,000 photos and more, Bell has earned a reputation as not only a huge fan of Elizabeth Taylor, but also an expert on her life and career.
He has been consulted as a source by authors Kitty Kelly and C. David Heymann, both of whom have written biographies of Elizabeth Taylor.
Bell has been mentioned or featured in: People, Look, Scoop, the National Enquirer, Midnight Magazine, Toronto Star, Vancouver Sun, Winnipeg Tribune, Winnipeg Free Press and Winnipeg Sun.
He has written four songs about Elizabeth Taylor and, according to author C. David Heymann, was the inspiration for the naming of Passion Perfume in 1987. In a letter Taylor wrote to Bell in 1975, she asked him to send her two of his custom T Shirts that had on them the inscription: “HANNON’S PASSION – ELIZABETH TAYLOR.”
After working with Heymann on his biography of Taylor, titled “LIZ,” Hemanann sent Hannon a copy of the book with the signed inscription,”to Hannon, who has the finest Elizabeth Taylor collection in the world.”
Features
Previews of this year’s Fringe Festival shows that have some sort of Jewish connection (no matter how tenuous)
By BERNIE BELLAN (originally posted July 12, amended July 14 & 15) As has been our custom for many years now we try to find shows that have either Jewish performers, themes that would have particular appeal for Jewish audiences…or simply shows where someone contacted me and asked for a plug!
This year’s Fringe Festival runs from July 15-26. For show dates and venues go to winnipegfringe.com.
In no particular order here are blurbs about the shows we’ve found that fit our somewhat arbitrary criteria. (By they way, if we’ve omitted a show that should be included in our list there’s plenty of time to get added to this post. Just drop me a line at jewishp@mymts.net.)
One of the Fringe’s perennial favourites, Alli Perlov is back yet again making great fun of a very popular movie – in this case it’s “Toy Story.”
Here’s what the blurb in the progam says about her show:
Adam Schwartz first appeared at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival in 2013 – in a one-man show. Since then, Adam has gone on to appear in – and produce shows featuring other neurodiverse artists in succeeding years. Adam wrote us: “This summer I am shooting my comedy special. This is a project I’ve been working on for 16 years and I believe is the first Canadian autistic comedy special exploring life. It explores issues like early and late diagnosis, support workers as well as accommodation I have received.”
Another veteran performer on the Fringe circuit, Melanie Gall is returning for her 13th season at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival.
Randy Ross is also back this year. Here’s what Randy wrote us: “I’ll be back at the Winnipeg fringe in July with a new show, ‘How Much Can You Change for Someone You Love?’
Winnipegger Nicholas Rice is a veteran of the Winnipeg theatre scene. He has appeared in five Winnipeg Jewish Theatre productions over the years. This year will mark Nicholas’s second time appearing in a Winnipeg Fringe Festival show. His first appearance, two years ago, was in a show also called “A Side of Rice” but, in chatting with Nicholas he told me this new show,”Another Side of Rice,” will be completely different from that first show.
During the show, Nicholas said, he “will tell three different stories” from different parts of his life. The first story will relate an experience he had at Sir John Franklin School (which no longer exits). The second story will be about an experience Nicholas had while teaching in Toronto where, he says, one of his students, upon finding out Nicholas was Jewish, told him that he “would burn in hell.”
The third story will also be set in Toronto. The show will last 70 minutes, Nicholas added.
Rudi stands outside his father’s study in Paraguay, struggling to find the courage to go in. It’s been seven years since he left after uncovering the truth: that his father was a doctor at Auschwitz.
Haunted by a past he didn’t create but can’t escape, Rudi is forced to grapple with the legacy of his father’s crimes and search for a way to live with the weight of inherited guilt. Another tour-de-force script from acclaimed Canadian playwright Hannah Moscovitch, whose powerful and provocative work continues to captivate audiences worldwide.
On July 15 we received an email from someone by the name of Jillian Birdie Burke. Here’s part of what Burdie wrote: “My name is Birdie Burke, I am a Jewish artist and I’m one of the producers and performers of A Kid Napping, a new comedy is coming to the Winnipeg, Saskatoon, and Victoria Fringe Festivals this summer – from the same duo who brought you last year’s award-winning BRAIN.
“ Kid Napping follows two well-meaning but wildly incompetent ex-convicts whose kidnapping plan goes spectacularly wrong when they accidentally find themselves caring for a room full of kindergarteners.
“As part of the production, we’re also donating proceeds from our sales to local children’s organizations in each city we visit.
“For Winnipeg we’ll be focusing on Rossbrook Kids and the Rainbow Resources team.”
Okay – now here is where we start to get away from previewing Jewish performers, but I’ll explain in each case why I’ve included a particular show.
Safe Sex is a collection of three one-act plays written by Harvey Fierstein who is Jewish, but had said that “although he does not believe in God, he prays three or four times each day.”
“As one of the first openly gay celebrities in the United States, Fierstein helped turn gay and lesbian life into a viable subject for contemporary drama.”
Now, since Harvey Fierstein grew up in New York – a very Jewish city, when we were contacted by someone by the name of Charlie Hume who said he was an actor and producer with a company called Starr Street Productions – based in New York City, we had to ask him whether there was any Jewish connection?
Charlie replied: “Perhaps unfortunately, the show is written and performed by Catholics. I would say that our company’s greatest connection to Judaism is that we all studied together at The Lee Strasberg Theater and Film Institute. Lee Strasberg- if you’re not familiar- was a legendary Jewish acting coach who was instrumental in revolutionizing theater and the performing arts in New York City and beyond. We walk in the footsteps of Lee and many other Jewish cultural leaders, who have long been among the most steadfast supporters of the arts in America.”
Well, that’s good enough for me. Here’s a description of their play:
Finally – and this one really is a stretch – three days ago we were speaking to Reverend Don James, who is the National Development Director at Bridges for Peace (an organization that has close ties to our Jewish community) when Don happened to mention that his daughter, Hilary, is producing a Fringe show that has something to do with a Fleetwood Mac record album. (Apparently Don had never heard of “Rumors” because he didn’t know what the name of the album was. Oy!)
So I said to Don: “Have your daugher contact me and I’ll give her a blurb.” Well, she hasn’t contacted me yet, but I’m giving her a blurb – whether she wants one or not!
