Ladies and Gentlemen
I'd like to thank the organizers and sponsors for inviting me to this distinguished event to honour the memory of my father Erwin Schödinger.
On a similar occasion sometime ago in Paris, I was asked to contribute biographical notes and had to express my doubts concerning biographies in general. They very often give only their author's views and serve his/her purposes. They rarely do justice to the subjects themselves and tend to typecast them into the eye of the public. They stick out like monuments until suddenly someone takes pleasure in pointing out their weaknesses and shortcomings, as if these actually had any meaning at all.
In our age, voyeurism is very much in vogue, and hardly any figure in public life, whether he/she be of genuine importance or not can escape it. Anyway, a true narrative of Schrödinger's life has yet to be written. In order to be Schrödinger it would have to deal with the facts only and forego fiction and any catering to the public taste.
At this point, I am grateful for a quotation from Albert Einstein, Quote: 'The essential of the being of a man of my type lies precisely in what he thinks and how he thinks, not what he does or suffers. Unquote/ What E.S. thought and how he thought is in the greatest part common knowledge in the world of physics, and anyone who understands his language can read it, rethink it , reinterpret it if he so wishes, contradict or support it. It is not for me, though, to join in this game.
What we all cannot guess is, what made him think and think that way. If we could come up with an explanation for it, it would mean that we know the answer to the fundamental question of life. For me, even to attempt it would be pretentious. What I can do however is go back in time and take a look at the decisive influences to which he was exposed in his life and try to remember what he wanted for himself.
The main influence was the milieu of Vienna between the turn of the century and the end of the 1920s. Not having been a witness myself I could always only listen with fascination to the tales of my elders when they spoke of those times. When de Toqueville once remarked that no one who had not lived before the French Revolution could imagine what life was like then, something similar can be said about the last decade of the Austrian Empire. There was a rapid growth of intellectual brilliance and talent in almost every field, dozens of famous names could be mentioned at this point. Vienna University was a Mecca for so many. There was the Austrian School of Economics, the Vienna School of Medicine, there were the painters, the composers, the architects, the sculptors, the writers, the actors. The still waters of the waning Empire provided a breeding ground for almost everything that came to life, and, not least, for the still widely unknown community of theoretical physicists. There was an excellent school system which stressed the humanities and being inexpensive it offered opportunities to all children, also to those of money less parents. The result was a relatively large group of thoroughly educated people, men and women. A member of that generation, whatever their occupation, whether medical doctor, public servant, engineer or sea captain could, for instance, have been able to enjoy Plato or Seneca in the original, without seeking help of a dictionary or commentary. Consequently, they were also masters of their masters of their own language. This came to my mind recently, when, upon receiving the letter of a young physicist, I did so with growing astonishment and disbelief. It was full of grammatical and spelling errors, that I wondered how he could have got to grammar school level, not to speak of further levels. Yet, he is a most promising scientist, highly thought of by his peers! Presumably in the days of my father he would not have got to where he is, the system would have rejected him much earlier or forced him to do his homework. Obviously in our time you can go ahead without bothering about culture. This incident raises several questions. Are we just looking at the result of specialization? My father dreaded it and strove to be it a generalist in every way. But this of course was the mark of his generation. Was it, though, beyond that, not also a very personal thing with him, something essential for his progress.? Or is the young physicist whom I mentioned just giving proof that a genius will prevail under any circumstances. Anyway, my father would not have been admitted to gymnasium and much less to university without perfect grammar and perfect spelling. His genius would have been relegated to a different level, perhaps to that of a cultural freelance. He could maybe have become a famous painter, hardly a famous writer, who knows?
But after stressing the importance of higher education in those times it is only fair to point out that in 1914 nearly all major countries were governed by a set of very well educated and highly cultured people who, in spite of their learning, led mankind into, hitherto, one of the world's greatest catastrophes. Contemplating all this I must come to the conclusion that whether his education and his fine cultural grooming were all relevant or not to his scientific achievement, they were certainly essential to his appearance and to the impression he made as a human being. He was a gentleman of the old times, which made him a very pleasant and loveable man to live with. He made one long for past times.
Having said that we cannot overlook his parent's guidance, which was indeed very influential. His English bred mother's bilingualism and her family ties were soon to become his as well. His mother loved music and played the violin beautifully. When she died of breast cancer at the age of 54, her son maintained it could have been aggravated by her reverent practice of the instrument. Her death and also his father's death nearly two years before left a tragic imprint on E.S. From that time on he broke off any relationship to music he had up until then. His father ran a family business of manufacturing and distributing special cloth, but at the heart he was a biologist, a scientist, and besides very interested in art. In the true French sense he was a dilettante; this being something positive. It describes a person of talent and intellect, keen on pursuing knowledge outside in fields of interest outside one's profession. Father Schrödinger also possessed a large library which his son used at random practically from the day he was able to read. One of the few true regrets I heard my father express later on was the loss of that library which in a moment of carelessness he had decided to sell after his father's death.
People who are considered outstanding and who have consequently become famous run the risk of becoming legendary. Sometimes such legends are found out to be false by some eager historian. Generations of school children in the German speaking area learned that Goethe's last words were 'more light.' Now we are being told that quite differently he addressed a young lady saying 'little one, hold my hand once more.' Legends when destroyed are often replaced by other legends. Even in the close circle of a family legendary image of a deceased person tends to develop. It is difficult to stay clear of such transformations of memory.
Here it may help to recall bits and pieces of conversation and other exchanges that give a clue of how my father thought of himself or what image he would paint himself in. if asked. I remember rather vividly one such conservation, which took place about two years before my father's death. It was based on somebody else's progress and on what subject he or she should choose for their further studies. Then my father quite abruptly and emphatically said: 'before I ever knew what subject I would choose, I had made up my mind to become a teacher.' This sentence, although chiselled into my memory is not a legend. It is rather a glimpse of the real E.S. Not only was he-as I have learnt from many of his students-a very good teacher, having a beautifully clear and simple way of expressing himself-in speaking as well as writing (his multilingual upbringing must have helped)-but beyond that the teaching profession meant something else in his life. He needed it to do what he did; it was truly instrumental.
I am certain there are a good many people, many millions perhaps, who often have worthwhile and wonderful ideas. Splendid theories, maybe marvellous solutions to many problems are enshrined in the minds of thousands every day. The only trouble is they are never brought forward, so that thoughts and ideas are lost again. They may even not be recognized by the bearer as something special or he or she may not be able to communicate them. The teaching profession itself did not make my father have his brainwaves, as teachers seldom have anything more remarkable to say than other people, but his original urge to use this most efficient vehicle in transmitting whatever ideas he might have, was probably part of the force that drove him.
We came to Ireland just over 60 years ago this year, we were refugees. Both the numbers of refugees and the times have changed considerably since then. My father, having been a refugee himself, was sympathetic to all those who had to leave their homeland in order to save their lives. He became a refugee because of his outspoken opposition to the Nazi regime. If not for that he could have stayed and been on of Hitler's sages who survived the war unharrassed and had but little troubled and regrets afterwards.
Unlike millions of poor people who were persecuted for their birth he had a choice. He chose to leave: And unlike so many others we were privileged. We did not have to beg to be accepted in a foreign country or fear we would be turned away. We were invited and offered generous hospitality. For this we are forever grateful to Ireland, to the people and to Eamon de Valera, one of my father's greatest friends.
I have said this time and time again in the past and I am very happy to repeat it today, 60 years after we came to Dublin, on this happy occasion in this 'Fair City.'
Thank you very much for your attention.