Because of his pioneering work in atomic physics, by 1953, when I met him, Niels Bohr was certainly the most famous scientist in Denmark, and was one of the most famous physicists in the world. He had won the Nobel Prize in physics in 1922.
I opened the gate, entered the courtyard and rang the bell next to a door that said “Administration.” A buzzing noise answered me. I pushed the door open and climbed the stairs to an office where a secretary sat at a large oak desk overlooking the gardens and park at the back of the institute building. It was a clear spring day and through the window I could see a soccer game in progress in the park, with young men kicking a ball around the field. Through the glass I could hear their muted shouting and birds in the nearby trees as well. The secretary smiled at me and asked in Danish what my business was. I explained that I had an appointment with Professor Bohr at ten-thirty. “Ah, yes, you’re the young man who is working on Einstein’s unified field theory,” she said, fixing me with a curious gaze. “You may sit in that chair over there and wait for Professor Bohr.”
As I waited, my nervousness increased. I could feel my palms becoming moist. I tried to concentrate on the shouts of the soccer players, and block out all other thoughts. After several minutes a short, stocky, middle-aged man with curly black hair opened the office door and walked over to the secretary, ignoring me. She said, “Dr. Rosenkrantz, this young man has an appointment with Professor Bohr.”
The man turned and looked at me for the first time. “Ah, you’re the young man who is working on Einstein’s unified field theory,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied. “My name is John Moffat.” I stood up and we shook hands.
“Do you have your manuscript on the unified field theory with you?” he asked.
“Yes, I do,” I said, holding up my large brown envelope, which shook slightly in my trembling hands.
“Well, then,” he said, “let’s go in and see Professor Bohr.”
We walked down a long dark corridor and came to an office. When Rosenkrantz opened the door, the strong smell of tobacco smoke wafted out. A tall man with a dome-shaped head and wearing a rumpled brown suit stood in the far corner of the room looking out the window at the soccer game in the park. His hair was thinning, accentuating his large ears.
Rosenkrantz beckoned me into the room and performed the introductions. “Professor Bohr, this young man is John Moffat.”
Niels Bohr removed a pipe from between his thick lips and said in softly spoken Danish, “So, you’re John Moffat?”
I said yes, I was.
“Do you have your manuscript on Einstein’s unified field theory with you?”
“Yes,” I replied. Again, I lifted the envelope. “I have two manuscripts, Professor Bohr. One has to do directly with Einstein’s classical unified field theory. The other attempts to quantize his unified field theory.” *
Bohr then crossed the room to his desk, sat down and contemplated a wooden rack holding pipes of various sizes, standing next to a large Danish matchbox and several tins of tobacco. He took his pipe out of his mouth and, pointing the stem at me, said, in English this time, “Please, sit down, sit down.” I took one of the chairs in front of his desk. Dr. Rosenkrantz sat in a chair next to mine, and placed a notebook on his knee. He took a pen out of his breast pocket, unscrewed the cap and began writing scratchily. I realized that he must be about to take notes, and my palms started sweating again. Was he actually going to record everything that was said?
There was a silence while Bohr picked up one of the tobacco tins from his desk, removed the lid, and poked his bear-like hand inside to pull out a lump of tobacco. He removed his pipe from his mouth and shoved the tobacco into the bowl. Then he carefully took a metal instrument from his pipe stand, tamped the tobacco down into the bowl with it and put the pipe back into his mouth. Next, he picked up an oversized box of matches, took out a match and lit the pipe, making dry sucking sounds as he drew in the smoke. Printed on the matchbox was the familiar Danish trademark H. E. Gosh & Co., with the famous picture of Tordenskjold, the eminent Danish-Norwegian naval hero of the seventeenth century. Everyone had these matchboxes in their kitchens. Bohr sat back in his chair and studied me for a while. The room was silent except for the birds singing outside. The shouting of the soccer players had ceased. Bohr said, “Let’s see the manuscript on unified field theory.”
I opened my envelope, took out the manuscript and leaned across the desk to hand it to him. I had managed to make copies of the two papers on my parents’ old Royal typewriter with faded carbon paper, and had written in the equations with a pen. Bohr put the pipe down on what looked to me like an antique Royal Danish porcelain dish, and spent several minutes quietly reading my paper. He then said, “Hmm!” and looked up and smiled at me.
While he had been reading, his pipe had gone out. He took another one from the stand and followed the same routine again: filling the pipe, tamping down the tobacco, lighting it and sucking it into life. Then he leaned back in his chair staring at the ceiling while the blue smoke rose up from his pipe and filled the room with its strong, sweet aroma. Thus we sat for at least five minutes waiting, while Bohr thought about what he had read. Rosenkrantz sat quietly with his fountain pen poised over his notebook.
Finally, Bohr levelled his gaze at me and ruminated, “So, you’ve been working on Albert’s unified field theory.”
“Yes,” I said.
Bohr took the pipe out of his mouth, as apparently it had gone out again. It joined the first pipe on the porcelain dish. I wondered if he was going to light another pipe before we proceeded with the business at hand. And indeed he did. He removed a third pipe from the stand and performed the same ritual yet again, while I counted up the pipes still in the stand. I thought that if we were going to go through those remaining ten pipes, I would be in Professor Bohr’s office for the rest of the day.
After he succeeded in lighting the third pipe, he asked me in a mumbling voice, “What is your opinion about Einstein’s efforts to unify electromagnetism and gravity?”
Now Dr. Rosenkrantz’s pen began scratching rapidly in the notebook. I sensed that something serious was finally about to happen in my meeting with Niels Bohr.
“I think it’s a logical extension of his gravity theory,” I replied.
Bohr smiled, removed the pipe from his mouth and said, “Are you aware of the fact that Albert has become an alchemist?”
I was taken aback by this obvious slight of one of the great physicists of the twentieth century. I said, “You mean someone who tries to turn base metals into gold?”
Bohr smiled again, and mumbled, “Yes, something like that.” Bohr’s derogatory comment indicated that he felt strongly that Einstein was wrong in denying the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics. Einstein did not believe that quantum mechanics formed a complete description of reality, whereas Bohr did. Instead of Einstein working to develop quantum mechanics further, he had been focusing on extending his theory of gravity to include the electromagnetic forces, but without including the nuclear forces, which in the opinions of contemporary physicists, played a more significant role than gravity in the subatomic realm. I had to concentrate on catching his words because Bohr mumbled even more disturbingly than most Danes do when they speak, whether in Danish or English.