THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
BERTRAND
RUSSELL
It is hard to imagine any reader of the
first volume of The Autobiography of
Bertrand Russell who did not ask him-
self, as he came to the final page, What
happened next? Here is the answer, and
it proves to be as remarkable as one
would expect. As before, Lord Russell
writes with that extraordinary candor,
even about the most private aspects of
his life, that made the earlier volume
an international best-seller, and one of
the most-discussed books of the year.
He resumes his story with the out-
break of the First World War, when he
was forty-three years old, a fellow of
Trinity College, Cambridge, separated
from his wife, caught up in a love affair
with Lady Ottoline Mo rr ell, and a dedi-
cated opponent of the war.
What follows is a richly complex
chronicle, alternating between public
and private concerns. He tells of his
ousting from Trinity College, his im-
prisonment as a pacifist, of his travels
after World War I to the new state of
Soviet Russia and to China. He tells
1148006146930
192 R96z 68-10809
Russell
The autobiography of Bertrand Russell
THE
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
BERTRAND
RUSSELL
DATE DUE
BY BERTRAND RUSSELL
A.B.C. OF ATOMS
A.B.C. OF RELATIVITY
THE ANALYSIS OF MATTER
HUMAN SOCIETY IN ETHICS AND POLITICS
NEW HOPES FOR A CHANGING WORLD
THE IMPACT OF SCIENCE ON SOCIETY
AUTHORITY AND THE INDIVIDUAL
HUMAN KNOWLEDGE: ITS SCOPE AND LIMITS
HISTORY OF WESTERN PHILOSOPHY
AN ESSAY ON THE FOUNDATIONS OF GEOMETRY
THE PRINCIPLES OF MATHEMATICS
INTRODUCTION TO MATHEMATICAL PHILOSOPHY
PRINCIPIA MATHEMATICS
(with A. N. Whitehead)
THE ANALYSIS OF MIND
OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXTERNAL WORLD
PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY
AN OUTLINE OF PHILOSOPHY
THE PHILOSOPHY OF LEIBNIZ
AN INQUIRY INTO MEANING AND TRUTH
PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS
FACT AND FICTION
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 1872-1914
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 1914-1944
MY PHILOSOPHICAL DEVELOPMENT
PORTRAITS FROM MEMORY
WHY I AM NOT A CHRISTIAN
UNDERSTANDING HISTORY AND OTHER ESSAYS
UNPOPULAR ESSAYS
POWER
RELIGION AND SCIENCE
IN PRAISE OF IDLENESS
THE CONQUEST OF HAPPINESS
SCEPTICAL ESSAYS
ICARUS OR THE FUTURE OF SCIENCE
MYSTICISM AND LOGIC
THE SCIENTIFIC OUTLOOK
MARRIAGE AND MORALS
EDUCATION AND THE SOCIAL ORDER
ON EDUCATION
WAR CRIMES IN VIETNAM
COMMON SENSE AND NUCLEAR WARFARE
HAS MAN A FUTURE?
POLITICAL IDEALS
PROSPECTS OF INDUSTRIAL CIVILIZATION
UNARMED VICTORY
WHICH WAY TO PEACE?
FREEDOM AND ORGANIZATION, 1814-1914
PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL RECONSTRUCTION
JUSTICE IN WAR-TIME
ROADS TO FREEDOM
PRACTICE AND THEORY OF BOLSHEVISM
THE PROBLEM OF CHINA
GERMAN SOCIAL DEMOCRACY
THE BASIC WRITINGS OF BERTRAND RUSSELL
BERTRAND RUSSELL SPEAKS HIS MIND
BERTRAND RUSSELL'S BEST
LOGIC AND KNOWLEDGE
WISDOM OF THE WEST
NIGHTMARES OF EMINENT PERSONS
SATAN IN THE SUBURBS
THE AMBERLEY PAPERS
(with Patricia Russell)
THE
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
BERTRAND
RUSSELL
1914-1944
An Atlantic Monthly Press Book
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY BOSTON TORONTO
COPYRIGHT 1951, 1952, 1953, 1956 BY
BERTRAND RUSSELL
COPYRIGHT 1968 BY GEORGE ALLEN AND UNWIN LTD.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRO-
DUCED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL
MEANS INCLUDING INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL SYS-
TEMS WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER,
EXCEPT BY A REVIEWER WHO MAY QUOTE BRIEF PASSAGES IN A
REVIEW.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NO. 67-14453
FIRST AMERICAN EDITION
Brief passages in this volume were previously published in Portraits
from Memory by Bertrand Russell, and are quoted here by permis-
sion of Simon and Schuster, Inc.
Excerpts from the letters of D. H. Lawrence are reprinted from the
Collected Letters of D. H, Lawrence edited by Harry T. Moore and
published by The Viking Press, Inc.
ATLANTIC-LITTLE, BROWN BOOKS
ARE PUBLISHED BY
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY
IN ASSOCIATION WITH
THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Preface
The De-filed Sanctuary
by William Blake
I saw a chapel all of gold
That none did dare to enter in,
And many weeping stood without,
AVeeping, mourning, worshipping.
I saw a serpent rise between
The white pillars of the door,
And he forced and forced and forced
Till down the golden hinges tore:
And along the pavement sweet,
Set with pearls and rubies bright,
All his shining length he drew,
Till upon the altar white
Vomited his poison out
On the bread and on the wine.
So I turned into a sty,
And laid me down among the swine.
CITY (MO.) PUBLIC
6S.10S09
Acknowledgements
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS are due the following for per-
mission to include certain letters in this volume: Les
Amis d'Henri Barbusse; Margaret Cole, for the letter of Bea-
trice Webb; John Conrad, through J. M. Dent & Sons, for the
letters of Joseph Conrad; Valerie Eliot, for the letters of T. S.
Eliot; the Estate of Albert Einstein; the Executors of the H. G.
Wells Estate ( 1968 George Philip Wells and Frank Wells) ;
Pearn, Pollinger & Higham, with the concurrence of William
Heinemann Ltd. and the Viking Press, Inc., for passages from
the letters of D. H. Lawrence; the Public Trustee and the Society
of Authors, for the letters of Bernard Shaw; the Trustees of the
Will of Mrs. Bernard Shaw; and the Council of Trinity College,
Cambridge. Facsimiles of Crown-copyright records in the Pub-
lic Record Office appear by permission of the Controller of
H.M. Stationery Office. The above list includes only those who
requested formal acknowledgement; many others have kindly
granted permission to publish letters.
Contents
Preface vii
Acknowledgements viii
i. The First War 1
ii. Russia 129
in. China 175
iv. Second Marriage 217
v. Later Years of Telegraph House 283
vi. America: 1938-1944 329
Index 399
Illustrations
Bertrand Russell (photograph by J.Russell) Frontispiece
facing page
Lady Constance Malleson (Colette O'Niel) 20
Frank Russell 21
After the 100 fine Bertrand Russell with Lyt-
ton Strachey and Lady Ottoline 212
Dora Black 213
Bertrand Russell with John and Kate
John and Kate Russell 244
Bertrand Russell 245
Bertrand Russell in 1938
The Chair of Indecency 340
Patricia Spence (later Lady Russell) 341
Conrad Russell 372
Bertrand Russell at his home in Richmond, 1952 373
I
The First War
THE period from 1910 to 1914 was a time of transition. My
life before 1910 and my life after 1914 were as sharply
separated as Faust's life before and after he met Mephistophe-
les. I underwent a process of rejuvenation, inaugurated by Ot-
toline Morrell and continued by the War. It may seem curious
that the War should rejuvenate anybody, but in fact it shook
me out of my prejudices and made me think afresh on a number
of fundamental questions. It also provided me with a new kind
of activity, for which I did not feel the staleness that beset me
whenever I tried to return to mathematical logic. I have there-
fore got into the habit of thinking of myself as a non-supernatu-
ral Faust for whom Mephistopheles was represented by the
Great War.
During the hot days at the end of July, I was at Cambridge,
discussing the situation with all and sundry. I found it impossi-
ble to believe that Europe would be so mad as to plunge into
war, but I was persuaded that, if there was war, England would
be involved. I felt strongly that England ought to remain neu-
tral, and I collected the signatures of a large number of profes-
sors and Fellows to a statement which appeared in the Man-
chester Guardian to that effect. The day war was declared, al-
[3]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
most all of them changed their minds. Looking back, it seems
extraordinary that one did not realize more clearly what was
coming. On Sunday, August 2nd, as mentioned in the earlier
volume of this autobiography, I met Keynes hurrying across
the Great Court of Trinity to borrow his brother-in-law's motor-
cycle to go up to London.* I presently discovered that the Gov-
ernment had sent for him to give them financial advice. This
made me realize the imminence of our participation in the War.
On the Monday morning I decided to go to London. I lunched
with the Morrells at Bedford Square, and found Ottoline en-
tirely of my way of thinking. She agreed with Philip's deter-
mination to make a pacifist speech in the House. I went down to
the House in the hope of hearing Sir Edward Grey's famous
statement, but the crowd was too great, and I failed to get in. I
learned, however, that Philip had duly made his speech. I spent
the evening walking round the streets, especially in the neigh-
bourhood of Trafalgar Square, noticing cheering crowds, and
making myself sensitive to the emotions of passers-by. During
this and the following days I discovered to my amazement that
average men and women were delighted at the prospect of war.
I had fondly imagined what most pacifists contended, that wars
were forced upon a reluctant population by despotic and Machi-
avellian governments. I had noticed during previous years how
carefully Sir Edward Grey lied in order to prevent the public
from knowing the methods by which he was committing us to
the support of France in the event of war. I naively imagined
that when the public discovered how he had lied to them, they
would be annoyed; instead of which, they were grateful to him
for having spared them the moral responsibility.
On the morning of August 4th, I walked with Ottoline up
and down the empty streets behind the British Museum, where
* His brother-in-law was A. V. Hill, eminent in scientific medicine. He had rooms
on the next staircase to mine.
[4]
The First War
now there are University buildings. We discussed the future in
gloomy terms. When we spoke to others of the evils we foresaw,
they thought us mad; yet it turned out that we were twittering
optimists compared to the truth. On the evening of the 4th, after
quarrelling with George Trevelyan along the whole length of
the Strand, I attended the last meeting of a neutrality committee
of which Graham Wallas was chairman. During the meeting
there was a loud clap of thunder, which all the older members
of the committee took to be a German bomb. This dissipated
their last lingering feeling in favour of neutrality. The first days
of the war were to me utterly amazing. My best friends, such as
the Whiteheads, were savagely warlike. Men like J. L. Ham-
mond, who had been writing for years against participation in a
European war, were swept off their feet by Belgium. As I had
long known from a military friend at the Staff College that Bel-
gium would inevitably be involved, I had not supposed impor-
tant publicists so frivolous as to be ignorant on this vital matter.
The Nation newspaper used to have a staff luncheon every
Tuesday, and I attended the luncheon on August 4th. I found
Massingham, the editor, vehemently opposed to our participa-
tion in the War. He welcomed enthusiastically my offer to write
for his newspaper in that sense. Next day I got a letter from
him, beginning: "Today is not yesterday," and stating that his
opinion had completely changed. Nevertheless, he printed a
long letter from me protesting against the War in his next is-
sue. * What changed his opinion I do not know. I know that one
of Asquith's daughters saw him descending the steps of the
German Embassy late on the afternoon of August 4th, and I
have some suspicion that he was consequently warned of the
unwisdom of a lack of patriotism in such a crisis. For the first
year or so of the War he remained patriotic, but as time went on
he began to forget that he had ever been so. A few pacifist
* The full text is reproduced on pp. 41-44.
[5]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
M.P.'s, together with two or three sympathizers, began to have
meetings at the Morrells' house in Bedford Square. I used to
attend these meetings, which gave rise to the Union of Demo-
cratic Control. I was interested to observe that many of the paci-
fist politicians were more concerned with the question which of
them should lead the anti-war movement than with the actual
work against the War. Nevertheless, they were all there was to
work with, and I did my best to think well of them.
Meanwhile, I was living at the highest possible emotional
tension. Although I did not foresee anything like the full disas-
ter of the war, I foresaw a great deal more than most people did.
The prospect filled me with horror, but what filled me with even
more horror was the fact that the anticipation of carnage was
delightful to something like ninety per cent of the population. I
had to revise my views on human nature. At that time I was
wholly ignorant of psychoanalysis, but I arrived for myself at a
view of human passions not unlike that of the psychoanalysts. I
arrived at this view in an endeavour to understand popular feel-
ing about the War. I had supposed until that time that it was
quite common for parents to love their children, but the War
persuaded me that it is a rare exception. I had supposed that
most people liked money better than almost anything else, but I
discovered that they liked destruction even better. I had sup-
posed that intellectuals frequently loved truth, but I found here
again that not ten per cent of them prefer truth to popularity.
Gilbert Murray, who had been a close friend of mine since
1902, was a pro-Boer when I was not. I therefore naturally ex-
pected that he would again be on the side of peace; yet he went
out of his way to write about the wickedness of the Germans,
and the superhuman virtue of Sir Edward Grey. I became filled
with despairing tenderness towards the young men who were to
be slaughtered, and with rage against all the statesmen of Eu-
rope. For several weeks I felt that if I should happen to meet
[6]
The First War
Asquith or Grey I should be unable to refrain from murder.
Gradually, however, these personal feelings disappeared. They
were swallowed up by the magnitude of the tragedy, and by the
realization of the popular forces which the statesmen merely let
loose.
In the midst of this, I was myself tortured by patriotism. The
successes of the Germans before the Battle of the Marne were
horrible to me. I desired the defeat of Germany as ardently as
any retired colonel. Love of England is very nearly the strongest
emotion I possess, and in appearing to set it aside at such a
moment, I was making a very difficult renunciation. Neverthe-
less, I never had a moment's doubt as to what I must do. I have
at times been paralyzed by scepticism, at times I have been cyn-
ical, at other times indifferent, but when the War came I felt as
if I heard the voice of God. I knew that it was my business to
protest, however futile protest might be. My whole nature was
involved. As a lover of truth, the national propaganda of all the
belligerent nations sickened me. As a lover of civilization, the
return to barbarism appalled me. As a man of thwarted parental
feeling, the massacre of the young wrung my heart. I hardly
supposed that much good would come of opposing the War, but
I felt that for the honour of human nature those who were not
swept off their feet should show that they stood firm. After see-
ing troop trains departing from Waterloo, I used to have
strange visions of London as a place of unreality. I used in im-
agination to see the bridges collapse and sink, and the whole
great city vanish like a morning mist. Its inhabitants began to
seem like hallucinations, and I would wonder whether the world
in which I thought I had lived was a mere product of my own
febrile nightmares.* Such moods, however, were brief, and
were put an end to by the need of work.
Throughout the earlier phases of the War, Ottoline was a
* I spoke of this to T. S. Eliot, who put it into The Waste Land.
[7]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
very great help and strength to me. But for her, I should have
been at first completely solitary, but she never wavered either in
her hatred of war, or in her refusal to accept the myths and
falsehoods with which the world was inundated.
I found a minor degree of comfort in the conversation of San-
tayana, who was at Cambridge at that time. He was a neutral,
and in any case he had not enough respect for the human race to
care whether it destroyed itself or not. His calm, philosophical
detachment, though I had no wish to imitate it, was soothing to
me. Just before the Battle of the Marne, when it looked as if the
Germans must soon take Paris, he remarked in a dreamy tone of
voice: "I think I must go over to Paris. My winter underclothes
are there, and I should not like the Germans to get them. I have
also another, though less important, reason, which is that I have
there a manuscript of a book on which I have been working for
the last ten years, but I do not care so much about that as about
the underclothes." He did not, however, go to Paris, because the
Battle of the Marne saved him the trouble. Instead, he remarked
to me one day: "I am going to Seville tomorrow because I wish
to be in a place where people do not restrain their passions."
With the beginning of the October Term, I had to start again
lecturing on mathematical logic, but I felt it a somewhat futile
occupation. So I took to organizing a branch of the Union of
Democratic Control among the dons, of whom at Trinity quite
a number were at first sympathetic. I also addressed meetings of
undergraduates who were quite willing to listen to me. I re-
member in the course of a speech, saying: "It is all nonsense to
pretend the Germans are wicked," and to my surprise the whole
room applauded. But with the sinking of the Lusitania, a fiercer
spirit began to prevail. It seemed to be supposed that I was in
some way responsible for this disaster. Of the dons who had
belonged to the Union of Democratic Control, many had by this
time got commissions. Barnes (afterwards Bishop of Birming-
[8]
The First War
ham) left to become Master of the Temple. The older dons got
more and more hysterical, and I began to find myself avoided at
the high table.
Every Christmas throughout the War I had a fit of black de-
spair, such complete despair that I could do nothing except sit
idle in my chair and wonder whether the human race served any
purpose. At Christmas time in 1914, by Ottoline's advice, I
found a way of making despair not unendurable. I took to visit-
ing destitute Germans on behalf of a charitable committee to
investigate their circumstances and to relieve their distress if
they deserved it. In the course of this work, I came upon re-
markable instances of kindness in the middle of the fury of war.
Not infrequently in the poor neighbourhoods landladies, them-
selves poor, had allowed Germans to stay on without paying
any rent, because they knew it was impossible for Germans to
find work. This problem ceased to exist soon afterwards, as the
Germans were all interned, but during the first months of the
War their condition was pitiable.
One day in October 1914 I met T. S. Eliot in New Oxford
Street. I did not know he was in Europe, but I found he had
come to England from Berlin. I naturally asked him what he
thought of the war. "I don't know," he replied, "I only know
that I am not a pacifist." That is to say, he considered any ex-
cuse good enough for homicide. I became great friends with
him, and subsequently with his wife, whom he married early in
1915. As they were desperately poor, I lent them one of the two
bedrooms in my flat, with the result that I saw a great deal of
them.* I was fond of them both, and endeavoured to help them
in their troubles until I discovered that their troubles were what
they enjoyed. I held some debentures nominally worth 3000,
in an engineering firm, which during the War naturally took to
* The suggestion sometimes made, however, that one of us influenced the other
is without foundation.
[9]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
making munitions. I was much puzzled in my conscience as
to what to do with these debentures, and at last I gave them to
Eliot. Years afterwards, when the War was finished and he was
no longer poor, he gave them back to me.
During the summer of 1915 I wrote Principles of Social Re-
construction, or Why Men Fight as it was called in America
without my consent. I had had no intention of writing such a
book, and it was totally unlike anything I had previously writ-
ten, but it came out in a spontaneous manner. In fact I did not
discover what it was all -about until I had finished it. It has a
framework and a formula, but I only discovered both when I
had written all except the first and last words. In it I suggested
a philosophy of politics based upon the belief that impulse has
more effect than conscious purpose in moulding men's lives. I
divided impulses into two groups, the possessive and the crea-
tive, considering the best life that which is most built on crea-
tive impulses. I took, as examples of embodiments of the pos-
sessive impulses, the State, war and poverty; and of the creative
impulses, education, marriage and religion. Liberation of crea-
tiveness, I was convinced, should be the principle of reform. I
first gave the book as lectures, and then published it. To my
surprise, it had an immediate success. I had written it with no
expectation of its being read, merely as a profession of faith, but
it brought me in a great deal of money, and laid the foundation
for all my future earnings.
These lectures were in certain ways connected with my short
friendship with D. H. Lawrence. We both imagined that there
was something important to be said about the reform of human
relations, and we did not at first realize that we took diametri-
cally opposite views as to the kind of reform that was needed.
My acquaintance with Lawrence was brief and hectic, lasting
altogether about a year. We were brought together by Ottoline,
who admired us both and made us think that we ought to ad-
[10]
The First War
mire each other. Pacifism had produced in me a mood of bitter
rebellion, and I found Lawrence equally full of rebellion. This
made us think, at first, that there was a considerable measure of
agreement between us, and it was only gradually that we dis-
covered that we differed from each other more than either
differed from the Kaiser.
There were in Lawrence at that time two attitudes to the
War: on the one hand, he could not be whole-heartedly patriotic,
because his wife was German; but on the other hand, he had
such a hatred of mankind that he tended to think both sides
must be right in so far as they hated each other. As I came to
know these attitudes, I realized that neither was one with which
I could sympathize. Awareness of our differences, however, was
gradual on both sides, and at first all went merry as a marriage
bell. I invited him to visit me at Cambridge and introduced him
to Keynes and a number of other people. He hated them all with
a passionate hatred and said they were "dead, dead, dead." For
a time I thought he might be right. I liked Lawrence's fire, I
liked the energy and passion of his feelings, I liked his belief
that something very fundamental was needed to put the world
right. I agreed with him in thinking that politics could not be
divorced from individual psychology. I felt him to be a man of a
certain imaginative genius, and, at first, when I felt inclined to
disagree with him, I thought that perhaps his insight into
human nature was deeper than mine. It was only gradually that
I came to feel him a positive force for evil and that he came to
have the same feeling about me.
I was at this time preparing the course of lectures which was
afterwards published as Principles of Social Reconstruction.
He, also, wanted to lecture, and for a time it seemed possible
that there might be some sort of loose collaboration between us.
We exchanged a number of letters, of which mine are lost but
his have been published. In his letters the gradual awareness of
[11]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
the consciousness of our fundamental disagreements can be
traced. I was a firm believer in democracy, whereas he had de-
veloped the whole philosophy of Fascism before the politicians
had thought of it. "I don't believe," he wrote, "in democratic
control. I think the working man is fit to elect governors or
overseers for his immediate circumstances, but for no more.
You must utterly revise the electorate. The working man shall
elect superiors for the things that concern him immediately, no
more. From the other classes, as they rise, shall be elected the
higher governors. The thing must culminate in one real head,
as every organic thing must no foolish republic with foolish
presidents, but an elected King, something like Julius Caesar."
He, of course, in his imagination, supposed that when a dicta-
torship was established he would be the Julius Caesar. This
was part of the dream-like quality of all his thinking. He never
let himself bump into reality. He would go into long tirades
about how one must proclaim "the Truth" to the multitude, and
he seemed to have no doubt that the multitude would listen. I
asked him what method he was going to adopt. Would he put
his political philosophy into a book? No: in our corrupt society
the written word is always a lie. Would he go into Hyde Park
and proclaim "the Truth" from a soap box? No: that would be
far too dangerous (odd streaks of prudence emerged in him
from time to time). Well, I said, what would you do? At this
point he would change the subject.
Gradually I discovered that he had no real wish to make the
world better, but only to indulge in eloquent soliloquy about
how bad it was. If anybody overheard the soliloquies, so much
the better, but they were designed at most to produce a little
faithful band of disciples who could sit in the deserts of New
Mexico and feel holy. All this was conveyed to me in the lan-
guage of a Fascist dictator as what I must preach, the "must"
having thirteen underlinings.
[12]
The First War
His letters grew gradually more hostile. He wrote, "What's
the good of living as you do anyway? I don't believe your lec-
tures are good. They are nearly over, aren't they? What's the
good of sticking in the damned ship and haranguing the mer-
chant pilgrims in their own language? Why don't you drop
overboard? Why don't you clear out of the whole show? One
must be an outlaw these days, not a teacher or preacher." This
seemed to me mere rhetoric. I was becoming more of an outlaw
than he ever was and I could not quite see his ground of com-
plaint against me. He phrased his complaint in different ways at
different times. On another occasion he wrote: "Do stop work-
ing and writing altogether and become a creature instead of a
mechanical instrument. Do clear out of the whole social ship.
Do for your very pride's sake become a mere nothing, a mole, a
creature that feels its way and doesn't think. Do for heavens
sake be a baby, and not a savant any more. Don't do anything
more but for heavens sake begin to be Start at the very
beginning and be a perfect baby: in the name of courage.
"Oh, and I want to ask you, when you make your will, do
leave me enough to live on. I want you to live for ever. But I
want you to make me in some part your heir."
The only difficulty with this programme was that if I adopted
it I should have nothing to leave.
He had a mystical philosophy of "blood" which I disliked.
"There is," he said, "another seat of consciousness than the
brain and nerves. There is a blood-consciousness which exists in
us independently of the ordinary mental consciousness. One
lives, knows and has one's being in the blood, without any refer-
ence to nerves and brain. This is one half of life belonging to the
darkness. When I take a woman, then the blood-percept is su-
preme. My blood-knowing is overwhelming. We should realize
that we have a blood-being, a blood-consciousness, a blood-soul
complete and apart from a mental and nerve consciousness."
[13]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
This seemed to me frankly rubbish, and I rejected it vehe-
mently, though I did not then know that it led straight to
Auschwitz.
He always got into a fury if one suggested that anybody
could possibly have kindly feelings towards anybody else, and
when I objected to war because of the suffering that it causes,
he accused me of hypocrisy. "It isn't in the least true that you,
your basic self, want ultimate peace. You are satisfying in an
indirect, false way your lust to jab and strike. Either satisfy it in
a direct and honourable way, saying 'I hate you all, liars and
swine, and am out to set upon you,' or stick to mathematics,
where you can be true But to come as the angel of peace
no, I prefer Tirpitz a thousand times in that role."
I find it difficult now to understand the devastating effect that
this letter had upon me. I was inclined to believe that he had
some insight denied to me, and when he said that my pacifism
was rooted in blood-lust I supposed he must be right. For
twenty-four hours I thought that I was not fit to live and con-
templated suicide. But at the end of that time, a healthier reac-
tion set in, and I decided to have done with such morbidness.
When he said that I must preach his doctrines and not mine I
rebelled, and told him to remember that he was no longer a
schoolmaster and I was not his pupil. He had written, "The
enemy of all mankind you are, full of the lust of enmity. It is not
a hatred of falsehood which inspires you, it is the hatred of peo-
ple of flesh and blood, it is a perverted mental blood-lust. Why
don't you own it? Let us become strangers again. I think it is
better." I thought so too. But he found a pleasure in denouncing
me and continued for some months to write letters containing
sufficient friendliness to keep the correspondence alive. In the
end, it faded away without any dramatic termination.
Lawrence, though most people did not realize it, was his
[14]
The First War
wife's mouthpiece. He had the eloquence, but she had the ideas.
She used to spend part of every summer in a colony of Austrian
Freudians at a time when psychoanalysis was little known in
England. Somehow, she imbibed prematurely the ideas after-
wards developed by Mussolini and Hitler, and these ideas she
transmitted to Lawrence, shall we say, by blood-consciousness.
Lawrence was an essentially timid man who tried to conceal his
timidity by bluster. His wife was not timid, and her denuncia-
tions have the character of thunder, not of bluster. Under her
wing he felt comparatively safe. Like Marx, he had a snobbish
pride in having married a German aristocrat, and in Lady Chat-
terley he dressed her up marvellously. His thought was a mass
of self-deception masquerading as stark realism. His descriptive
powers were remarkable, but his ideas cannot be too soon for-
gotten.
What at first attracted me to Lawrence was a certain dy-
namic quality and a habit of challenging assumptions that one
is apt to take for granted. I was already accustomed to being
accused of undue slavery to reason, and I thought perhaps that
he could give me a vivifying dose of unreason. I did in fact ac-
quire a certain stimulus from him, and I think the book that I
wrote in spite of his blasts of denunciation was better than it
would have been if I had not known him.
But this is not to say that there was anything good in his
ideas. I do not think in retrospect that they had any merit what-
ever. They were the ideas of a sensitive would-be despot who
got angry with the world because it would not instantly obey.
When he realized that other people existed, he hated them. But
most of the time he lived in a solitary world of his own imagin-
ings, peopled by phantoms as fierce as he wished them to be.
His excessive emphasis on sex was due to the fact that in sex
alone he was compelled to admit that he was not the only
[15]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
human being in the universe. But it was so painful that he con-
ceived of sex relations as a perpetual fight in which each is at-
tempting to destroy the other.
The world between the wars was attracted to madness. Of
this attraction Nazism was the most emphatic expression. Law-
rence was a suitable exponent of this cult of insanity. I am not
sure whether the cold inhuman sanity of Stalin's Kremlin was
any improvement/
With the coming of 1916, the War took on a fiercer form, and
the position of pacifists at home became more difficult. My rela-
tions with Asquith had never become unfriendly. He was an
admirer of Ottoline's before she married, and I used to meet him
every now and then at Garsington, where she lived. Once when
I had been bathing stark naked in a pond, I found him on the
bank as I came out. The quality of dignity which should have
characterized a meeting between the Prime Minister and a paci-
fist was somewhat lacking on this occasion. But at any rate, I
had the feeling that he was not likely to lock me up. At the time
of the Easter Rebellion in Dublin, thirty-seven conscientious ob-
jectors were condemned to death and several of us went on a
deputation to Asquith to get their sentences reduced. Although
he was just starting for Dublin, he listened to us courteously,
and took the necessary action. It had been generally supposed,
even by the Government, that conscientious objectors were not
legally liable to the death penalty, but this turned out to be a
mistake, and but for Asquith a number of them would have
been shot.
Lloyd George, however, was a tougher proposition. I went
once with Clifford Allen (chairman of the No Conscription Fel-
lowship) and Miss Catherine Marshall, to interview him about
the conscientious objectors who were being kept in prison. The
only time that he could see us was at lunch at Walton Heath. I
* See also my letters to Ottoline with reference to Lawrence on pp. 59-61.
[16]
The First War
disliked having to receive his hospitality, but it seemed un-
avoidable. His manner to us was pleasant and easy, but he
offered no satisfaction of any kind. At the end, as we were leav-
ing, I made him a speech of denunciation in an almost Biblical
style, telling him his name would go down to history with in-
famy. I had not the pleasure of meeting him thereafter.
With the coming of conscription, I gave practically my
whole time and energies to the affairs of the conscientious ob-
jectors. The No Conscription Fellowship consisted entirely of
men of military age, but it accepted women and older men as
associates. After all the original committee had gone to prison,
a substitute committee was formed, of which I became the act-
ing chairman. There was a great deal of work to do, partly in
looking after the interests of individuals, partly in keeping a
watch upon the military authorities to see that they did not send
conscientious objectors to France, for it was only after they had
been sent to France that they became liable to the death penalty.
Then there was a great deal of speaking to be done up and
down the country. I spent three weeks in the mining areas of
Wales, speaking sometimes in halls, sometimes out-of-doors. I
never had an interrupted meeting, and always found the major-
ity of the audience sympathetic so long as I confined myself to
industrial areas. In London, however, the matter was different.
Clifford Allen, * the chairman of the No Conscription Fellow-
ship, was a young man of great ability and astuteness. He was a
Socialist, and not a Christian. There was always a certain diffi-
culty in keeping harmonious relations between Christian and
Socialist pacifists, and in this respect he showed admirable
impartiality. In the summer of 1916, however, he was court-
martialled and sent to prison. After that, throughout the dura-
tion of the War, I only saw him during the occasional days be-
* Afterwards Lord Allen of Hurtwood.
[17]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
tween sentences. He was released on grounds of health (being,
in fact, on the point of death) early in 1918, but shortly after
that I went to prison myself.
It was at Clifford Allen's police court case when he was first
called up that I first met Lady Constance Malleson, generally
known by her stage name of Colette CTNiel. Her mother, Lady
Annesley, had a friendship with Prince Henry of Prussia which
began before the war and was resumed when the war was over.
This, no doubt, gave her some bias in favour of a neutral atti-
tude, but Colette and her sister, Lady Clare Annesley, were both
genuine pacifists, and threw themselves into the work of the No
Conscription Fellowship. Colette was married to Miles Malle-
son, the actor and playwright. He had enlisted in 1914, but had
had the good luck to be discharged on account of a slight weak-
ness in one foot. The advantageous position which he thus se-
cured, he used most generously on behalf of the conscientious
objectors, having after his enlistment become persuaded of the
truth of the pacifist position. I noticed Colette in the police
court, and was introduced to her. I found that she was one of
Allen's friends and learned from him that she was generous
with her time, free in her opinions, and whole-hearted in her
pacifism. That she was young and very beautiful, I had seen for
myself. She was on the stage, and had had a rapid success with
two leading parts in succession, but when the War came she
spent the whole of the daytime in addressing envelopes in the
office of the No Conscription Fellowship. On these data, I natu-
rally took steps to get to know her better.
My relations with Ottoline had been in the meantime grow-
ing less intimate. In 1915, she left London and went to live at
the Manor House at Garsington, near Oxford. It was a beauti-
ful old house which had been used as a farm, and she became
absorbed in restoring all its potentialities. I used to go down to
Garsington fairly frequently, but found her comparatively in-
[18]
The First War
different to me.* I sought about for some other woman to re-
lieve my unhappiness, but without success until I met Colette.
After the police court proceedings I met Colette next at a dinner
of a group of pacifists. I walked back from the restaurant with
her and others to the place where she lived, which was 43 Ber-
nard Street, near Russell Square, I felt strongly attracted, but
had no chance to do much about it beyond mentioning that a
few days later I was to make a speech in the Portman Rooms,
Baker Street. When I came to make the speech, I saw her on
one of the front seats, so I asked her after the meeting to come to
supper at a restaurant, and then walked back with her. This
time I came in, which I had not done before. She was very
young, but I found her possessed of a degree of calm courage as
great as Ottoline's (courage is a quality that I find essential in
any woman whom I am to love seriously) . We talked half the
night, and in the middle of talk became lovers. There are those
who say that one should be prudent, but I do not agree with
them. We scarcely knew each other, and yet in that moment
there began for both of us a relation profoundly serious and
profoundly important, sometimes happy, sometimes painful,
but never trivial and never unworthy to be placed alongside of
the great public emotions connected with the War. Indeed, the
War was bound into the texture of this love from first to last.
The first time that I was ever in bed with her (we did not go to
bed the first time we were lovers, as there was too much to say) ,
we heard suddenly a shout of bestial triumph in the street. I
leapt out of bed and saw a Zeppelin falling in flames. The
thought of brave men dying in agony was what caused the
triumph in the street. Colette's love was in that moment a refuge
to me, not from cruelty itself, which was unescapable, but from
the agonizing pain of realizing that that is what men are. I re-
* Some of my letters to Lady Ottoline, written during the early years of the War
and reflecting the state of my mind at that time, are to be found on pp. 57-64.
[19]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
member a Sunday which we spent walking on the South
Downs. At evening we came to Lewes Station to take the train
back to London. The station was crowded with soldiers, most of
them going back to the Front, almost all of them drunk, half of
them accompanied by drunken prostitutes, the other half by
wives or sweethearts, all despairing, all reckless, all mad. The
harshness and horror of the war world overcame me, but I
clung to Colette. In a world of hate, she preserved love, love in
every sense of the word from the most ordinary to the most pro-
found, and she had a quality of rock-like immovability, which
in those days was invaluable.
After the night in which the Zeppelin fell I left her in the
early morning to return to my brother's house in Gordon Square
where I was living. I met on the way an old man selling flowers,
who was calling out: "Sweet lovely roses!" I bought a bunch of
roses, paid him for them, and told him to deliver them in Ber-
nard Street. Everyone would suppose that he would have kept
the money and not delivered the roses, but it was not so, and I
knew it would not be so. The words, "Sweet lovely roses," were
ever since a sort of refrain to all my thoughts of Colette.
We went for a three days' honeymoon (I could not spare
more from work) to the Cat and Fiddle on the moors above
Buxton. It was bitterly cold and the water in my jug was frozen
in the morning. But the bleak moors suited our mood. They
were stark, but gave a sense of vast freedom. We spent our days
in long walks and our nights in an emotion that held all the pain
of the world in solution, but distilled from it an ecstasy that
seemed almost more than human.
I did not know in the first days how serious was my love for
Colette. I had got used to thinking that all my serious feelings
were given to Ottoline. Colette was so much younger, so much
less of a personage, so much more capable of frivolous pleas-
ures, that I could not believe in my own feelings, and half sup-
[20]
(photo by E. 0. Hoppe)
Lady Constance Malleson (Colette O'Niel)
(photo by Russell and Sons)
Frank Russell
The First War
posed that I was having a light affair with her. At Christmas I
went to stay at Garsington, where there was a large party.
Keynes was there, and read the marriage service over two dogs,
ending, "Whom man hath joined, let not dog put asunder."
Lytton Strachey was there and read us the manuscript of Emi-
nent Victorians. Katherine Mansfield and Middleton Murry
were also there. I had just met them before, but it was at this
time that I got to know her well. I do not know whether my
impression of her was just, but it was quite different from other
people's. Her talk was marvellous, much better than her writ-
ing, especially when she was telling of things that she was go-
ing to write, but when she spoke about people she was envious,
dark, and full of alarming penetration in discovering what they
least wished known and whatever was bad in their characteris-
tics/ She hated Ottoline because Murry did not. It had become
clear to me that I must get over the feeling that I had had for
Ottoline, as she no longer returned it sufficiently to give me any
happiness. I listened to all that Katherine Mansfield had to say
against her; in the end I believed very little of it, but I had be-
come able to think of Ottoline as a friend rather than a lover.
After this I saw no more of Katherine, but was able to allow my
feeling for Colette free scope.
The time during which I listened to Katherine was a time of
dangerous transition. The War had brought me to the verge of
utter cynicism, and I was having the greatest difficulty in be-
lieving that anything at all was worth doing. Sometimes I
would have fits of such despair as to spend a number of succes-
sive days sitting completely idle in my chair with no occupation
except to read Ecclesiastes occasionally. But at the end of this
time the spring came, and I found myself free of the doubts and
hesitations that had troubled me in relation to Colette. At the
height of my winter despair, however, I had found one thing to
* See also my letter to Lady Ottoline on pp. 59-61.
[21]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
do, which turned out as useless as everything else, but seemed
to me at the moment not without value. America being still neu-
tral, I wrote an open letter to President Wilson, appealing to
him to save the world. In this letter I said:
Sir,
You have an opportunity of performing a signal service to man-
kind, surpassing even the service of Abraham Lincoln, great as that
was. It is in your power to bring the war to an end by a just peace,
which shall do all that could possibly be done to allay the fear of new
wars in the near future. It is not yet too late to save European civi-
lization from destruction; but it may be too late if the war is allowed
to continue for the further two or three years with which our mili-
tarists threaten us.
The military situation has now developed to the point where the
ultimate issue is clear, in its broad outlines, to all who are capable of
thought. It must be obvious to the authorities in all the belligerent
countries that no victory for either side is possible. In Europe, the
Germans have the advantage; outside Europe, and at sea, the Allies
have the advantage. Neither side is able to win such a crushing vic-
tory as to compel the other to sue for peace. The war inflicts untold
injuries upon the nations, but not such injuries as to make a continu-
ance of fighting impossible. It is evident that however the war may
be prolonged, negotiations will ultimately have to take place on the
basis of what will be substantially the present balance of gains and
losses, and will result in terms not very different from those which
might be obtained now. The German Government has recognized
this fact, and has expressed its willingness for peace on terms which
ought to be regarded at least as affording a basis for discussion,
since they concede the points which involve the honour of the Allies.
The Allied Governments have not had the courage to acknowledge
publicly what they cannot deny in private, that the hope of a sweep-
ing victory is one which can now scarcely be entertained. For want
of this courage, they are prepared to involve Europe in the horrors
of a continuance of the war, possibly for another two or three years.
This situation is intolerable to every humane man. You, Sir, can put
an end to it. Your power constitutes an opportunity and a responsi-
bility; and from your previous actions I feel confident that you will
[22]
The First War
use your power with a degree of wisdom and humanity rarely to be
found among statesmen.
The harm which has already been done in this war is immeasur-
able. Not only have millions of valuable lives been lost, not only
have an even greater number of men been maimed or shattered in
health, but the whole standard of civilization has been lowered. Fear
has invaded men's inmost being, and with fear has come the ferocity
that always attends it. Hatred has become the rule of life, and in-
jury to others is more desired than benefit to ourselves. The hopes
of peaceful progress in which our earlier years were passed are
dead, and can never be revived. Terror and savagery have become
the very air we breathe. The liberties which our ancestors won by
centuries of struggle were sacrificed in a day, and all the nations
are regimented to the one ghastly end of mutual destruction.
But all this is as nothing in comparison with what the future has
in store for us if the war continues as long as the announcements of
some of our leading men would make us expect. As the stress in-
creases, and weariness of the war makes average men more restive,
the severity of repression has to be continually augmented. In all the
belligerent countries, soldiers who are wounded or home on leave
express an utter loathing of the trenches, a despair of ever achieving
a military decision, and a terrible longing for peace. Our militarists
have successfully opposed the granting of votes to soldiers; yet in all
the countries an attempt is made to persuade the civilian population
that war-weariness is confined to the enemy soldiers. The daily toll
of young lives destroyed becomes a horror almost too terrible to be
borne; yet everywhere, advocacy of peace is rebuked as treachery to
the soldiers, though the soldiers above all men desire peace. Every-
where, friends of peace are met with the diabolical argument that
the brave men who have died must not have shed their blood in vain.
And so every impulse of mercy towards the soldiers who are still
living is dried up and withered by a false and barren loyalty to those
who are past our help. Even the men hitherto retained for making
munitions, for dock labour, and for other purposes essential to the
prosecution of the war, are gradually being drafted into the armies
and replaced by women, with the sinister threat of coloured labour
in the background. There is a very real danger that, if nothing is
done to check the fury of national passion, European civilization as
[23]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
we have known it will perish as completely as it perished when
Rome fell before the Barbarians.
It may be thought strange that public opinion should appear to
support all that is being done by the authorities for the prosecution
of the war. But this appearance is very largely deceptive. The con-
tinuance of the war is actively advocated by influential persons, and
by the Press, which is everywhere under the control of the Govern-
ment. In other sections of Society feeling is quite different from that
expressed by the newspapers, but public opinion remains silent and
uninformed, since those who might give guidance are subject to
such severe penalties that few dare to protest openly, and those few
cannot obtain a wide publicity. From considerable personal experi-
ence, reinforced by all that I can learn from others, I believe that the
desire for peace is almost universal, not only among the soldiers, but
throughout the wage-earning classes, and especially in industrial
districts, in spite of high wages and steady employment. If a pleb-
iscite of the nation were taken on the question whether negotiations
should be initiated, I am confident that an overwhelming majority
would be in favour of this course, and that the same is true of
France, Germany, and Austria-Hungary.
Such acquiescence as there is in continued hostilities is due en-
tirely to fear. Every nation believes that its enemies were the ag-
gressors, and may make war again in a few years unless they are
utterly defeated. The United States Government has the power, not
only to compel the European Governments to make peace, but also
to reassure the populations by making itself the guarantor of the
peace. Such action, even if it were resented by the Governments,
would be hailed with joy by the populations. If the German Govern-
ment, as now seems likely, would not only restore conquered terri-
tory, but also give its adherence to the League to Enforce Peace or
some similar method of settling disputes without war, fear would
be allayed, and it is almost certain that an offer of mediation from
you would give rise to an irresistible movement in favour of nego-
tiations. But the deadlock is such that no near end to the war is
likely except through the mediation of an outside Power, and such
mediation can only come from you.
Some may ask by what right I address you. I have no formal title;
I am not any part of the machinery of government. I speak only be-
[24]
The First War
cause I must; because others, who should have remembered civiliza-
tion and human brotherhood, have allowed themselves to be swept
away by national passion; because I am compelled by their apostacy
to speak in the name of reason and mercy, lest it should be thought
that no-one in Europe remembers the work which Europe has done
and ought still to do for mankind. It is to the European races, in
Europe and out of it, that the world owes most of what it possesses
in thought, in science, in art, in ideals of government, in hope for
the future. If they are allowed to destroy each other in futile
carnage, something will be lost which is more precious than diplo-
matic prestige, incomparably more valuable than a sterile victory
which leaves the victors themselves perishing. Like the rest of my
countrymen I have desired ardently the victory of the Allies; like
them, I have suffered when victory has been delayed. But I remem-
ber always that Europe has common tasks to fulfill; that a war
among European nations is in essence a civil war; that the ill which
we think of our enemies they equally think of us; and that it is diffi-
cult in time of war for a belligerent to see facts truly. Above all, I
see that none of the issues in the war are as important as peace; the
harm done by a peace which does not concede all that we desire is
as nothing in comparison to the harm done by the continuance of the
fighting. While all who have power in Europe speak for what they
falsely believe to be the interests of their separate nations, I am com-
pelled by a profound conviction to speak for all the nations in the
name of Europe. In the name of Europe I appeal to you to bring us
peace.
The censorship in those days made it difficult to transmit a doc-
ument of this sort, but Helen Dudley's sister Katherine, who
had been visiting her, undertook to take it back with her to
America. She found an ingenious method of concealing it, and
duly delivered it to a committee of American pacifists through
whom it was published in almost every newspaper in America.
As will be seen in this account, I thought, as most people did at
that time, that the War could not end in a victory for either
party. This would no doubt have been true if America had re-
mained neutral.
[25]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
From the middle of 1916 until I went to prison in May 1918,
I was very busy indeed with the affairs of the No Conscription
Fellowship. My times with Colette were such as could be
snatched from pacifist work, and were largely connected with
the work itself. Clifford Allen would be periodically let out of
prison for a few days, to be court-martialled again as soon as it
became clear that he still refused to obey military orders. We
used to go together to his courts-martial.
When the Kerensky Revolution came, a great meeting of
sympathizers with it was held in Leeds. I spoke at this meeting,
and Colette and her husband were at it. We travelled up in the
train with Ramsay MacDonald, who spent the time telling long
stories of pawky Scotch humour so dull that it was almost im-
possible to be aware when the point had been reached. It was
decided at Leeds to attempt to form organizations in the various
districts of England and Scotland with a view to promoting
workers' and soldiers' councils on the Russian model. In Lon-
don a meeting for this purpose was held at the Brotherhood
Church in Southgate Road. Patriotic newspapers distributed
leaflets in all the neighbouring public houses (the district is a
very poor one) saying that we were in communication with the
Germans and signalled to their aeroplanes as to where to drop
bombs. This made us somewhat unpopular in the neighbour-
hood, and a mob presently besieged the church. Most of us be-
lieved that resistance would be either wicked or unwise, since
some of us were complete non-resisters, and others realized that
we were too few to resist the whole surrounding slum popula-
tion. A few people, among them Francis Meynell, attempted re-
sistance, and I remember his returning from the door with his
face streaming with blood. The mob burst in led by a few offi-
cers; all except the officers were more or less drunk. The fiercest
were viragos who used wooden boards full of rusty nails. An
attempt was made by the officers to induce the women among us
[26]
The First War
to retire first so that they might deal as they thought fit with the
pacifist men, whom they supposed to be all cowards. Mrs.
Snowden behaved on this occasion in a very admirable manner.
She refused point-blank to leave the hall unless the men were
allowed to leave at the same time. The other women present
agreed with her. This rather upset the officers in charge of the
roughs, as they did not particularly wish to assault women. But
by this time the mob had its blood up, and pandemonium broke
loose. Everybody had to escape as best he could while the
police looked on calmly. Two of the drunken viragos began to
attack me with their boards full of nails. While I was wonder-
ing how one defended oneself against this type of attack, one of
the ladies among us went up to the police and suggested that
they should defend me. The police, however, merely shrugged
their shoulders. "But he is an eminent philosopher," said the
lady, and the police still shrugged. "But he is famous all over
the world as a man of learning," she continued. The police re-
mained unmoved. "But he is the brother of an earl," she finally
cried. At this, the police rushed to my assistance. They were,
however, too late to be of any service, and I owe my life to a
young woman whom I did not know, who interposed herself
between me and the viragos long enough for me to make my
escape. She, I am happy to say, was not attacked. But quite a
number of people, including several women, had their clothes
torn off their backs as they left the building. Colette was present
on this occasion, but there was a heaving mob between me and
her, and I was unable to reach her until we were both outside.
We went home together in a mood of deep dejection.
The clergyman to whom the Brotherhood Church belonged
was a pacifist of remarkable courage. In spite of this experience,
he invited me on a subsequent occasion to give an address in his
church. On this occasion, however, the mob set fire to the pulpit
and the address was not delivered. These were the only occa-
[27]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
sions on which I came across personal violence; all my other
meetings were undisturbed. But such is the power of Press
propaganda that my non-pacifist friends came to me and said:
"Why do you go on trying to address meetings when all of them
are broken up by the mob?"
By this time my relations with the Government had become
very bad. In 1916, I wrote a leaflet* which was published by
the No Conscription Fellowship about a conscientious objector
who had been sentenced to imprisonment in defiance of the con-
science clause. The leaflet appeared without my name on it, and
I found rather to my surprise, that those who distributed it were
sent to prison. I therefore wrote to The Times to state that I was
the author of it. I was prosecuted at the Mansion House before
the Lord Mayor, and made a long speech in my own defence.
On this occasion I was fined 100. 1 did not pay the sum, so that
my goods at Cambridge were sold to a sufficient amount to real-
ize the fine. Kind friends, however, bought them in and gave
them back to me, so that I felt my protest had been somewhat
futile. At Trinity, meanwhile, all the younger Fellows had ob-
tained commissions, and the older men naturally wished to do
their bit. They therefore deprived me of my lectureship. When
the younger men came back at the end of the War I was invited
to return, but by this time I had no longer any wish to do so.
Munition workers, oddly enough, tended to be pacifists. My
speeches to munition workers in South Wales, all of which were
inaccurately reported by detectives, caused the War Office to
issue an order that I should not be allowed in any prohibited
area.f The prohibited areas were those into which it was partic-
ularly desired that no spies should penetrate. They included the
whole sea-coast. Representations induced the War Office to
state that they did not suppose me to be a German spy, but nev-
* The full text will be found on pp. 77-78.
f See my statement concerning my meeting with General Cockerill of the War
Office on pp. 91-93.
[28]
The First War
ertheless I was not allowed to go anywhere near the sea for fear
I should signal to the submarines. At the moment when the
order was issued I had gone up to London for the day from
Bosham in Sussex, where I was staying with the Eliots. I had to
get them to bring up my brush and comb and tooth-brush, be-
cause the Government objected to my fetching them myself.
But for these various compliments on the part of the Govern-
ment, I should have thrown up pacifist work, as I had become
persuaded that it was entirely futile. Perceiving, however, that
the Government thought otherwise, I supposed I might be mis-
taken, and continued. Apart from the question whether I was
doing any good, I could not well stop when fear of consequences
might have seemed to be my motive.
At the time, however, of the crime for which I went to prison,
I had finally decided that there was nothing further to be done,
and my brother had caused the Government to know my deci-
sion. There was a little weekly newspaper called The Tribunal,
issued by the No Conscription Fellowship, and I used to write
weekly articles for it. After I had ceased to be editor, the new
editor, being ill one week, asked me at the last moment to write
the weekly article. I did so, and in it I said that American sol-
diers would be employed as strike-breakers in England, an oc-
cupation to which they were accustomed when in their own
country.* This statement was supported by a Senate Report
which I quoted. I was sentenced for this to six months' impris-
onment. All this, however, was by no means unpleasant. It kept
my self-respect alive, and gave me something to think about less
painful than the universal destruction. By the intervention of
Arthur Balfour, I was placed in the first division, so that while
in prison I was able to read and write as much as I liked, pro-
vided I did no pacifist propaganda. I found prison in many ways
quite agreeable. I had no engagements, no difficult decisions to
* The full text is reproduced on pp. 103-106.
[29]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
make, no fear of callers, no interruptions to my work. I read
enormously; I wrote a book, Introduction to Mathematical Phi-
losophy, a semi-popular version of The Principles of Mathe-
matics, and began the work for Analysis of Mind. I was rather
interested in my fellow-prisoners, who seemed to me in no way
morally inferior to the rest of the population, though they were
on the whole slightly below the usual level of intelligence, as
was shown by their having been caught For anybody not in the
first division, especially for a person accustomed to reading and
writing, prison is a severe and terrible punishment; but for me,
thanks to Arthur Balfour, this was not so. I owe him gratitude
for his intervention although I was bitterly opposed to all his
policies. I was much cheered, on my arrival, by the warder at
the gate, who had to take particulars about me. He asked my
religion and I replied "agnostic." He asked how to spell it, and
remarked with a sigh: "Well, there are many religions, but I
suppose they all worship the same God." This remark kept me
cheerful for about a week. One time, when I was reading
Strachey's Eminent Victorians, I laughed so loud that the
warder came round to stop me, saying I must remember that
prison was a place of punishment. On another occasion Arthur
Waley, the translator of Chinese poetry, sent me a translated
poem that he had not yet published called "The Red Cocka-
too." * It is as follows:
Sent as a present from Annam
A red cockatoo.
Coloured like the peach-tree blossom,
Speaking with the speech of men.
And they did to it what is always done
To the learned and eloquent.
They took a cage with stout bars
And shut it up inside.
* Now included in Chinese Poems. ( London, George Allen & Unwin Ltd. ) .
[30]
The First War
I had visits once a week, always of course in the presence of a
warder, but nevertheless very cheering. Ottoline and Colette
used to come alternately, bringing two other people with them.
I discovered a method of smuggling out letters by enclosing
them in the uncut pages of books. I could not, of course, explain
the method in the presence of the warder, so I practised it first
by giving Ottoline the Proceedings of the London Mathemati-
cal Society, and telling her that it was more interesting than it
seemed. Before I invented this device, I found another by which
I could incorporate love-letters to Colette into letters which were
read by the Governor of the prison. I professed to be reading
French Revolutionary Memoirs, and to have discovered letters
from the Girondin Buzot to Madame Roland. I concocted letters
in French, saying that I had copied them out of a book. His
circumstances were sufficiently similar to my own to make it
possible to give verisimilitude to these letters. In any case, I sus-
pect that the Governor did not know French, but would not con-
fess ignorance.
The prison was full of Germans, some of them very intelli-
gent. When I once published a review of a book about Kant,
several of them came up to me and argued warmly about my
interpretation of that philosopher. During part of my time, Lit-
vinov was in the same prison, but I was not allowed any oppor-
tunity of speaking to him, though I used to see him in the dis-
tance.
Some of my moods in prison are illustrated by the following
extracts from letters to my brother, all of which had to be such
as to be passed by the Governor of the prison:
(May 6,1918) . . . Life here is just like life on an Ocean Liner;
one is cooped up with a number of average human beings, unable to
escape except into one's own state-room. I see no sign that they are
worse than the average, except that they probably have less will-
power, if one can judge by their faces, which is all I have to go by.
[31]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
That applies to debtors chiefly. The only real hardship of life here is
not seeing one's friends. It was a great delight seeing you the other
day. Next time you come, I hope you will bring two others I
think you and Elizabeth both have the list. I am anxious to see as
much of my friends as possible. You seemed to think I should grow
indifferent on that point but I am certain you were wrong. Seeing
the people I am fond of is not a thing I should grow indifferent to,
though thinking of them is a great satisfaction. I find it comforting
to go over in my mind all sorts of occasions when things have been
to my liking.
Impatience and lack of tobacco do not as yet trouble me as much
as I expected, but no doubt they will later. The holiday from re-
sponsibility is really delightful, so delightful that it almost out-
weighs everything else. Here I have not a care in the world: the rest
to nerves and will is heavenly. One is free from the torturing ques-
tion: What more might I be doing? Is there any effective action that
I haven't thought of? Have I a right to let the whole thing go and
return to philosophy? Here, I have to let the whole thing go, which
is far more restful than choosing to let it go and doubting if one's
choice is justified. Prison has some of the advantages of the Catholic
Church. . . .
(May 27, 1918 ) . . . Tell Lady Ottoline I have been reading the
two books on the Amazon: Tomlinson I loved; Bates bores me while
I am reading him, but leaves pictures in my mind which I am glad
of afterwards. Tomlinson owes much to Heart of Darkness. The
contrast with Bates is remarkable: one sees how our generation, in
comparison, is a little mad, because it has allowed itself glimpses of
the truth, and the truth is spectral, insane, ghastly: the more men
see of it, the less mental health they retain. The Victorians (dear
souls) were sane and successful because they never came anywhere
near truth. But for my part I would rather be mad with truth than
sane with lies. . . .
(June 10, 1918) . . . Being here in these conditions is not as dis-
agreeable as the time I spent as attache at the Paris Embassy, and
not in the same world of horror as the year and a half I spent at a
crammer's. The young men there were almost all going into the
[32]
The First War
Army or the Church, so they were at a much lower moral level than
the average. . . .
(July 8, 1918) . . . I am not fretting at all, on the contrary. At
first I thought a good deal about my own concerns, but not (I
think) more than was reasonable; now I hardly ever think about
them, as I have done all I can. I read a great deal, and think about
philosophy quite fruitfully. It is odd and irrational, but the fact is
my spirits depend on the military situation as much as anything:
when the Allies do well I feel cheerful, when they do badly, I worry
over all sorts of things that seem quite remote from the War. . . .
(July 22, 1918) ... I have been reading about Mirabeau. His
death is amusing. As he was dying he said "AhJ si feusse vecu, que
feusse donne de chagrin a ce PittF which I prefer to Pitt's words
( except in Dizzy's version ) . They were not however quite the last
words Mirabeau uttered. He went on: "// ne reste plus qdune chose
d faire: c*est de se parfumer, de se couronner de fleurs et de s'en-
vironner de musique, afin ffentrer agreablement dans ce sommeil
dont on ne se reveille plus. Le grain, qdon se prepare a me raser, a
faire ma toilette toute enti$re" Then, turning to a friend who was
sobbing, "Eh bien! etes-vous content, mon cher connoisseur en belles
morts?" At last, hearing some guns fired, u Sont-ce dja les funer-
ailles d*Achille?" After that, apparently, he held his tongue, think-
ing, I suppose, that any further remark would be an anti-climax. He
illustrates the thesis I was maintaining to you last Wednesday, that
all unusual energy is inspired by an unusual degree of vanity. There
is just one other motive: love of power. Philip II of Spain and Sid-
ney Webb of Grosvenor Road are not remarkable for vanity.
There was only one thing that made me mind being in prison,
and that was connected with Colette. Exactly a year after I had
fallen in love with her, she fell in love with someone else,
though she did not wish it to make any difference in her rela-
tions with me. I, however, was bitterly jealous.* I had the worst
* Later I recognized the fact that my feeling sprang not only from jealousy, but
also, as is often the case in so deeply serious a relationship as I felt ours to be, from
[33]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
opinion of him, not wholly without reason. We had violent
quarrels, and things were never again quite the same between
us. While I was in prison, I was tormented by jealousy the
whole time, and driven wild by the sense of impotence. I did not
think myself justified in feeling jealousy, which I regarded as
an abominable emotion, but none the less it consumed me.
When I first had occasion to feel it, it kept me awake almost the
whole of every night for a fortnight, and at the end I only got
sleep by getting a doctor to prescribe sleeping-draughts. I rec-
ognize now that the emotion was wholly foolish, and that Co-
lette's feeling for me was sufficiently serious to persist through
any number of minor affairs. But I suspect that the philosophi-
cal attitude which I am now able to maintain in such matters is
due less to philosophy than to physiological decay. The fact
was, of course, that she was very young, and could not live con-
tinually in the atmosphere of high seriousness in which I lived
in those days. But although I know this now, I allowed jealousy
to lead me to denounce her with great violence, with the natural
result that her feelings towards me were considerably chilled.
We remained lovers until 1920, but we never recaptured the
perfection of the first year.
I came out of prison in September 1918, when it was already
clear that the War was ending. During the last weeks, in com-
mon with most other people, I based my hopes upon Woodrow
Wilson. The end of the War was so swift and dramatic that no-
one had time to adjust feelings to changed circumstances. I
learned on the morning of November llth, a few hours in ad-
vance of the general public, that the Armistice was coming. I
went out into the street, and told a Belgian soldier, who said:
"Tiens, c'est chicF I went into a tobacconist's and told the lady
who served me. "I am glad of that," she said, "because now we
a sense both of collaboration broken and, as happened so often and in so many
ways during these years, of the sanctuary defiled.
[34]
The First War
shall be able to get rid of the interned Germans." At eleven
o'clock, when the Armistice was announced, I was in Totten-
ham Court Road. Within two minutes everybody in all the
shops and offices had come into the street. They commandeered
the buses, and made them go where they liked. I saw a man and
woman, complete strangers to each other, meet in the middle of
the road and kiss as they passed.
Late into the night I stayed alone in the streets, watching the
temper of the crowd, as I had done in the August days four
years before. The crowd was frivolous still, and had learned
nothing during the period of horror, except to snatch at pleasure
more recklessly than before. I felt strangely solitary amid the
rejoicings, like a ghost dropped by accident from some other
planet. True, I rejoiced also, but I could find nothing in com-
mon between my rejoicing and that of the crowd. Throughout
my life I have longed to feel that oneness with large bodies of
human beings that is experienced by the members of enthusias-
tic crowds. The longing has often been strong enough to lead
me into self-deception. I have imagined myself in turn a Lib-
eral, a Socialist, or a Pacifist, but I have never been any of these
things, in any profound sense. Always the sceptical intellect,
when I have most wished it silent, has whispered doubts to me,
has cut me off from the facile enthusiasms of others, and has
transported me into a desolate solitude. During the War, while
I worked with Quakers, non-resisters, and socialists, while I
was willing to accept the unpopularity and the inconvenience
belonging to unpopular opinions, I would tell the Quakers that I
thought many wars in history had been justified, and the social-
ists that I dreaded the tyranny of the State. They would look
askance at me, and while continuing to accept my help would
feel that I was not one of them. Underlying all occupations and
all pleasures I have felt since early youth the pain of solitude. I
have escaped it most nearly in moments of love, yet even there,
[35]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
on reflection, I have found that the escape depended partly upon
illusion.* I have known no woman to whom the claims of intel-
lect were as absolute as they are to me, and wherever intellect
intervened, I have found that the sympathy I sought in love was
apt to fail. What Spinoza calls "the intellectual love of God"
has seemed to me the best thing to live by, but I have not had
even the somewhat abstract God that Spinoza allowed himself
to whom to attach my intellectual love. I have loved a ghost, and
in loving a ghost my inmost self has itself become spectral. I
have therefore buried it deeper and deeper beneath layers of
cheerfulness, affection, and joy of life. But my most profound
feelings have remained always solitary and have found in
human things no companionship. The sea, the stars, the night
wind in waste places, mean more to me than even the human
beings I love best, and I am conscious that human affection is to
me at bottom an attempt to escape from the vain search for God.
The War of 1914-1918 changed everything for me. I ceased
to be academic and took to writing a new kind of books. I
changed my whole conception of human nature. I became for
the first time deeply convinced that Puritanism does not make
for human happiness. Through the spectacle of death I ac-
quired a new love for what is living. I became convinced that
most human beings are possessed by a profound unhappiness
venting itself in destructive rages, and that only through the
diffusion of instinctive joy can a good world be brought into
being. I saw that reformers and reactionaries alike in our pres-
ent world have become distorted by cruelties. I grew suspicious
of all purposes demanding stern discipline. Being in opposition
to the whole purpose of the community, and finding all the ev-
eryday virtues used as means for the slaughter of Germans, I
experienced great difficulty in not becoming a complete Antino-
mian. But I was saved from this by the profound compassion
* This and what follows is no longer true ( 1967) .
[36]
The First War
which I felt for the sorrows of the world. I lost old friends and
made new ones. I came to know some few people whom I could
deeply admire, first among whom I should place E. D. Morel. I
got to know him in the first days of the War, and saw him fre-
quently until he and I were in prison. He had single-minded
devotion to the truthful presentation of facts. Having begun by
exposing the iniquities of the Belgians in the Congo, he had
difficulty in accepting the myth of "gallant little Belgium."
Having studied minutely the diplomacy of the French and Sir
Edward Grey in regard to Morocco, he could not view the Ger-
mans as the sole sinners. With untiring energy and immense
ability in the face of all the obstacles of propaganda and censor-
ship, he did what he could to enlighten the British nation as to
the true purposes for which the Government was driving the
young men to the shambles. More than any other opponent of
the War, he was attacked by politicians and the press, and of
those who had heard his name ninety-nine per cent believed him
to be in the pay of the Kaiser. At last he was sent to prison for
the purely technical offence of having employed Miss Sidgwick,
instead of the post, for the purpose of sending a letter and some
documents to Romain Holland. He was not, like me, in the first
division, and he suffered an injury to his health from which he
never recovered. In spite of all this, his courage never failed. He
often stayed up late at night to comfort Ramsay MacDonald,
who frequently got "cold feet," but when MacDonald came to
form a government, he could not think of including anyone so
tainted with pro-Germanism as Morel. Morel felt his ingrati-
tude deeply, and shortly afterwards died of heart disease, ac-
quired from the hardships of prison life.
There were some among the Quakers whom I admired very
greatly, in spite of a very different outlook, I might take as typi-
cal of these the treasurer of the No Conscription Fellowship,
Mr. Grubb. He was, when I first knew him, a man of seventy,
[37]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
very quiet, very averse from publicity, and very immovable. He
took what came without any visible sign of emotion. He acted
on behalf of the young men in prison with a complete absence of
even the faintest trace of self-seeking. When he and a number of
others were being prosecuted for a pacifist publication, my
brother was in court listening to his cross-examination. My
brother, though not a pacifist, was impressed by the man's
character and integrity. He was sitting next to Matthews, the
Public Prosecutor, who was a friend of his. When the Public
Prosecutor sat down at the end of his cross-examination of Mr.
Grubb, my brother whispered to him: "Really, Matthews, the
role of Torquemada does not suit you!" My brother's remark so
angered Matthews that he would never speak to him again.
One of the most curious incidents of the War, so far as I was
concerned, was a summons to the War Office to be kindly rea-
soned with. Several Red Tabs, with the most charming man-
ners and the most friendly attitude, besought me to acquire a
sense of humour, for they held that no-one with a sense of hu-
mour would give utterance to unpopular opinions. They failed,
however, and afterwards I regretted that I had not replied that I
held my sides with laughter every morning as I read the casu-
alty figures.
When the War was over, I saw that all I had done had been
totally useless except to myself. I had not saved a single life or
shortened the War by a minute. I had not succeeded in doing
anything to diminish the bitterness which caused the Treaty of
Versailles. But at any rate I had not been an accomplice in the
crime of all the belligerent nations, and for myself I had ac-
quired a new philosophy and a new youth. I had got rid of the
don and the Puritan. I had learned an understanding of instinc-
tive processes which I had not possessed before, and I had ac-
quired a certain poise from having stood so long alone. In the
days of the Armistice men had high hopes of Wilson. Other
[38]
The First War
men found their inspiration in Bolshevik Russia. But when I
found that neither of these sources of optimism was available
for me, I was nevertheless able not to despair. It is my deliberate
expectation that the worst is to come,* but I do not on that ac-
count cease to believe that men and women will ultimately learn
the simple secret of instinctive joy.
LETTERS
Biihlstr. 28
Gottingen
Germany
[c. June or July, 1914]
My dear Mr. Russell,
At present I am studying here in Gottingen, following your
advice. I am hearing a course on the Theory of Groups with
Landau, a course on Differential Equations with Hilbert (I
know it has precious little to do with Philosophy but I wanted to
hear Hilbert), and three courses with Husserl, one on Kant's
ethical writings, one on the principles of Ethics, and the sem-
inary on Phenomenology. I must confess that the intellectual
contortions through which one must go before one finds oneself
in the true Phenomenological attitude are utterly beyond me.
The applications of Phenomenology to Mathematics, and the
claims of Husserl that no adequate account can be given of the
foundations of Mathematics without starting out from Phe-
nomenology seem to me absurd.
Symbolic logic stands in little favor in Gottingen. As usual,
the Mathematicians will have nothing to do with anything so
philosophical as logic, while the philosophers will have nothing
to do with anything so mathematical as symbols. For this rea-
* This passage was written in 1931.
[39]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
son, I have not done much original work this term: it is dis-
heartening to try to do original work where you know that not a
person with whom you talk about it will understand a word you
say.
During the Pfingsten holidays, I called on Frege up at
Brunnshaupten in Mecklenburg, where he spends his holidays.
I had several interesting talks with him about your work.
A topic which has interested me of late is the question
whether one can obtain a simpler set of postulates for Geometry
by taking the convex solid & relations between convex solids as
indefinable, and defining points as you define instants. I have
obtained five or six sets of definitions of the fundamental Geo-
metrical concepts in this manner, but I am utterly at a loss for a
method to simplify the postulates of Geometry in this manner:
e.g. the triangle-transversal postulate offers almost insuperable
difficulties if one attempts to simplify it by resolving it into a
proposition about arbitrary convex surfaces.
I thank you very much for your interest in my article & dis-
covery. I have some material now that might go with my work
on sensation-intensities to make a new article: I would like to
ask you what I should do with it. It is an extension of my work
on time to polyadic relations having some of the properties of
series: for example, to the "between" relation among the points
of a given straight line. . . .*
I herewith send you my reprints, and offer my apologies to
you for not having sent them sooner. The reason is this : I sent
all of my articles destined for distribution in America to father,
with directions to "sow them where they would take root." Fa-
ther probably imagined that I had sent your copies to you di-
rect.
I am very glad to hear that you had such an enjoyable time
* The central part of this letter has been omitted as being too technical for gen-
eral interest.
[40]
The First War
with us, and I shall certainly spend next year studying under
you in Cambridge. I am just beginning to realise what my work
under you there has ment [sic] for me.
Yours very respect fully,
NORBERT WIENER
To the London Nation for August 15, 1914
Sir:
Against the vast majority of my countrymen, even at this mo-
ment, in the name of humanity and civilization, I protest
against our share in the destruction of Germany.
A month ago Europe was a peaceful comity of nations; if an
Englishman killed a German, he was hanged. Now, if an Eng-
lishman kills a German, or if a German kills an Englishman, he
is a patriot, who has deserved well of his country. We scan the
newspapers with greedy eyes for news of slaughter, and rejoice
when we read of innocent young men, blindly obedient to the
word of command, mown down in thousands by the machine-
guns of Liege. Those who saw the London crowds, during the
nights leading up to the Declaration of War saw a whole popu-
lation, hitherto peaceable and humane, precipitated in a few
days down the steep slope to primitive barbarism, letting loose,
in a moment, the instincts of hatred and blood lust against
which the whole fabric of society has been raised. "Patriots" in
all countries acclaim this brutal orgy as a noble determination
to vindicate the right; reason and mercy are swept away in one
great flood of hatred; dim abstractions of unimaginable wicked-
ness Germany to us and the French, Russia to the Germans
conceal the simple fact that the enemy are men, like our-
selves, neither better nor worse men who love their homes
and the sunshine, and all the simple pleasures of common lives;
men now mad with terror in the thought of their wives, their
[41]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
sisters, their children, exposed, with our help, to the tender mer-
cies of the conquering Cossack.
And all this madness, all this rage, all this flaming death of
our civilization and our hopes, has been brought about because
a set of official gentlemen, living luxurious lives, mostly stupid,
and all without imagination or heart, have chosen that it should
occur rather than that any one of them should suffer some infin-
itesimal rebuff to his country's pride. No literary tragedy can
approach the futile horror of the White Paper. The diploma-
tists, seeing from the first the inevitable end, mostly wishing to
avoid it, yet drifted from hour to hour of the swift crisis, re-
strained by punctilio from making or accepting the small con-
cessions that might have saved the world, hurried on at last by
blind fear to loose the armies for the work of mutual butchery.
And behind the diplomatists, dimly heard in the official docu-
ments, stand vast forces of national greed and national hatred
atavistic instincts, harmful to mankind at its present level,
but transmitted from savage and half -animal ancestors, concen-
trated and directed by Governments and the Press, fostered by
the upper class as a distraction from social discontent, artifi-
cially nourished by the sinister influence of the makers of arma-
ments, encouraged by a whole foul literature of "glory," and by
every text-book of history with which the minds of children are
polluted.
England, no more than other nations which participate in
this war, can be absolved either as regards its national passions
or as regards its diplomacy.
For the past ten years, under the fostering care of the Gov-
ernment and a portion of the Press, a hatred of Germany has
been cultivated and a fear of the German Navy. I do not suggest
that Germany has been guiltless; I do not deny that the crimes
of Germany have been greater than our own. But I do say that
[42]
The First War
whatever defensive measures were necessary should have been
taken in a spirit of calm foresight, not in a wholly needless tur-
moil of panic and suspicion. It is this deliberately created panic
and suspicion that produced the public opinion by which our
participation in the war has been rendered possible.
Our diplomacy, also, has not been guiltless. Secret arrange-
ments, concealed from Parliament and even (at first) from al-
most all the Cabinet, created, in spite of reiterated denials, an
obligation suddenly revealed when the war fever had reached
the point which rendered public opinion tolerant of the discov-
ery that the lives of many, and the livelihood of all, had been
pledged by one man's irresponsible decisions. Yet, though
France knew our obligations, Sir E. Grey refused, down to the
last moment, to inform Germany of the conditions of our neu-
trality or of our intervention. On August 1st he reports as fol-
lows a conversation with the German Ambassador (No. 123) :
"He asked me whether, if Germany gave a promise not to
violate Belgian neutrality, we would engage to remain neutral. I
replied that I could not say that; our hands were still free, and
we were considering what our attitude should be. All I could
say was that our attitude would be determined largely by public
opinion here, and that the neutrality of Belgium would appeal
very strongly to public opinion here. I did not think that we
could give a promise of neutrality on that condition alone. The
Ambassador pressed me as to whether I could not formulate
conditions on which we would remain neutral. He even sug-
gested that the integrity of France and her colonies might be
guaranteed. I said I felt obliged to refuse definitely any promise
to remain neutral on similar terms, and I could only say that we
must keep our hands free."
It thus appears that the neutrality of Belgium, the integrity
of France and her colonies, and the naval defence of the north-
[43]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
ern and western coasts of France, were all mere pretexts. If Ger-
many had agreed to our demands in all these respects, we
should still not have promised neutrality.
I cannot resist the conclusion that the Government has failed
in its duty to the nation by not revealing long-standing arrange-
ments with the French, until, at the last moment, it made them
the basis of an appeal to honor; that it has failed in its duty to
Europe by not declaring its attitude at the beginning of the
crisis; and that it has failed in its duty to humanity by not in-
forming Germany of conditions which would insure its non-
participation in a war which, whatever its outcome, must cause
untold hardship and the loss of many thousands of our bravest
and noblest citizens.
Yours, etc.,
August 12, 1914 BERTRAND RUSSELL
From Lord Morley * Flo wermead
Princes Road
Wimbledon Park, S.W.
Aug. 7, 16 ['14]
Dear Mr. Russell:
Thank you for telling me that you and I are in accord on this
breakdown of right and political wisdom. The approval of a
man like you is of real value, and I value it sincerely.
Yours
M
* I wrote to congratulate him on having resigned from the Government on the
outbreak of war.
[44]
The First War
Cote Bank
Westbury-on-Trym
Bristol
Friday 7th Aug. 1914
Dear Bertie:
It was very kind of you to write. I feel overwhelmed by the
horror of the whole thing. As you know I have always regarded
Grey as one of the most wicked and dangerous criminals that
has ever disgraced civilization, but it is awful that a liberal Cab-
inet should have been parties to engineering a war to destroy
Teutonic civilization in favour of Servians and the Russian
autocracy. I pray that the economic disturbance may be so great
as to compel peace fairly soon, but it looks as bad as can be.
Tours fraternally,
C. P. SANGER
Esher House
Esher, Surrey
19/8/14
Dear Russell:
I have just read first your admirable letter in the Nation and
then the White Book, with special attention to the sequence of
events which culminated in the passage you quote from No.
123. As a result I must express to you not only my entire agree-
ment with your sentiments ( which are those of every civilized
man) but also with your argument. It seems to me clear on his
own evidence that Sir E. Grey must bear a large share of the
catastrophe, whether he acted as he did consciously or stupidly.
He steadily refused to give Germany any assurance of neutral-
ity on any conditions, until he produced a belief that he meant
England to fight, and Germany thereupon ran "amok." But the
evidence shows that she was willing to bid high for our neutral-
ity.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
First (No. 85) she promised the integrity of France proper
and of Belgium (tho leaving her neutrality contingent) . When
Grey said that wasn't enough (No. 101) and demanded a
pledge about Belgian neutrality (No. 114), the German Secre-
tary of State explained, stupidly but apparently honestly, what
the difficulty was (No. 122), and said he must consult the
Chancellor and Kaiser. This the papers have represented as a
refusal to give the pledge, whereas it is obvious that Lichnow-
sky's conversation with Grey (No. 123) next day was the an-
swer. And I don't see how anything more could have been con-
ceded. Belgian neutrality and the integrity of France and her
colonies, with a hint of acceptance of any conditions Grey
would impose if only he would state them. Of course, that
would have reduced the war with France to a farce, and meant
presumably that France would not be (seriously) attacked at
all, but only contained. One gets the impression throughout that
Germany really wanted to fight Russia and had to take on
France because of the system of alliances. Also that Russia had
been goading Austria into desperation, (No. 118 s.f.), was
willing to fight, ( 109, 139) , was lying, or suspected of lying by
Germany (112, 121, 139 p. 72 top of 144). It is sickening to
think that this deluge of blood has been let loose all in order that
the tyranny of the Tsar shall be extended over all the world. As
regards the question of Grey's good faith, have you noted that
the abstract of the despatches gives no hint of the important
contents of No. 123? That was presumably the reason why
none of the papers at first noticed it. As for the Nation Editor's
reply to you, he simply distorts the time order. Lichnowsky's
offer to respect Belgian neutrality came after Grey's inquiry and
answered it. Grey's answers seem mere "fencing," and if he had
really wanted to be neutral he would surely have said to L's.
offers "are these firm pledges?" But he did not respond at all.
However it is no use crying over spilt milk, and not much to
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consider as yet how European civilization can be saved; I fear
this horror will go on long enough to ruin it completely. But I
suspect that not much will be left of the potentates, statesmen
and diplomats who have brought about this catastrophy, when
the suffering millions have borne it 6 months.
Ever sincerely yours,
F. C. S. SCHILLER
To and from J. L. Hammond 5 Sept. 1914
Dear Hammond:
I am glad Norman Angell is replying and am very satisfied to
be displaced by him.
As regards Belgium, there are some questions I should like to
ask you, not in a controversial spirit, but because I wish, if pos-
sible, to continue to feel some degree of political respect for the
Nation, with which in the past I have been in close agreement.
I. Were the Nation ignorant of the fact, known to all who
took any interest in military matters, that the Germans, for
many years past, had made no secret of their intention to attack
France through Belgium in the next war?
II. Did the Nation in former years regard the violation of
Belgium, if it should occur, as a just ground for war with Ger-
many?
III. If so, why did they never give the slightest hint of this
opinion, or ask the Government to make this view clear to Ger-
many? If the object was to save Belgium, this was an obvious
duty.
IV. Why did the Nation in the past protest against Conti-
nental entanglements, when the alleged duty of protecting Bel-
gium already involved all the trouble that could arise from an
alliance with France and Russia?
It seems to me that in the past, as in the present, the policy of
the Nation has been sentimental, in the sense that it has refused
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
to face facts which went against its policy. I do not see, at any
rate, how it can be absolved from the charge of either having
been thoughtless in the past, or being hysterical now.
If there is an answer, I should be very grateful for it.
Tours sincerely,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
Oatfield
19 Oct. 1914
Dear Russell:
Your letter accusing my handwriting of a certain obscu-
rity was a great shock, but less than it would have been had
I not already received a similar intimation, less tactfully con-
veyed, from the printers. I had therefore already addressed my-
self to the painful task of reform, with the result that you see.
My letter was in answer to one from you asking why if the
Nation thought we should fight over Belgium it had not let its
readers know that this was its opinion, and why if it took this
view, it objected to foreign entanglements. (I send your letter as
the simplest way. ) First of all I must ask you in justice to
the Nation to distinguish between the Nation and me. I have
had no responsibility for the paper's line on foreign policy ( or
on Armaments) with which I have not associated myself. I
agreed with the N. entirely on Persia. I am therefore not quite
the right person to answer your questions; but I think the Na-
tion could clear itself of inconsistency.
1. I don't know whether the Nation was aware of this or not.
(Personally I was not. I always thought Germany might de-
velop designs on Belgium and Holland and in the last article on
Foreign Policy that I wrote in the Speaker I said we could not
look idly on if she attacked them. )
2. The Nation drew attention to our obligation to Belgium in
April 1912, March 1913, and the week before the war.
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3. I imagine that they did not call upon the Government to
impress this on Germany because they imagined that it was
generally known that an English Government would consider
the obligation binding.
4. The Nation argued that the entente with France and Rus-
sia made a general war more probable, and that if we were quite
independent we could more easily protect Belgium. "Germany
would not violate the neutrality of Belgium for the sake of some
small military advantage if she might otherwise reckon on our
neutrality" (March 1, 1913). They may have been wrong,
their general criticisms of Grey may have been right or wrong
and their idea that it was possible to build up an Anglo-French-
German entente may have been impracticable, but there seems
to be no inconsistency in working for that policy for some years
and in thinking that it is Germany that has wrecked it. Mas-
singham's view is that Germany 1 ) would make no concessions
during the last fortnight for the Peace of Europe 2 ) insisted on
invading Belgium.
If you say that you think the Nation has not allowed enough
for the warlike forces in Germany in the past I agree. I think
that has been the mistake of all the Peace people. In his book
in many respects admirable on The War of Steel and Gold
Brailsford was entirely sceptical, predicting that there would
never be a great war in Europe again.
Yours,
J. L. HAMMOND
[1914]
Thank you so much for the flowers. They are a great comfort
to me and your letter also I have read it many times. It was
terrible the other evening yet if we had not seen each other it
might have been infinitely more terrible I might have come
to feel that I could never see you again. That is all past now
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
I do understand how it is with you and I feel more than ever
that a profound and lasting friendship will be possible I
hope very soon as soon as I get back my strength. Nothing
that has happened makes any difference finally it was and
still is of the very best.
Goodbye now and if one may speak of peace in this distracted
world peace be with you.
H.
To Geo. Turner, Esq. Trinity College
Cambridge
26 April 19 15
Dear Sir:
I am sorry to say I cannot renew my subscription to the Cam-
bridge Liberal Association, and I do not wish any longer to be a
member of it. One of my chief reasons for supporting the Lib-
eral Party was that I thought them less likely than the Union-
ists to engage in a European war. It turns out that ever since
they have been in office they have been engaged in deceiving
their supporters, and in secretly pursuing a policy of which the
outcome is abhorrent to me. Under these circumstances I can do
nothing directly or indirectly to support the present Govern-
ment.
Yours faithfully,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
The writer of the following letter was a distinguished explorer
and soldier. He was in command of the British Expedition to
Tibet in 1903-1904. He was a very delightful and liberal-
minded man, for whom I had a great regard. We travelled to-
gether on the Mauretania in 1914.
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From Sir Francis Younghusband London
May 11 1915
My dear Russell:
I am so distressed at what you say about feeling a sense of
isolation because of your views regarding the war. It should be
all the other way round. You ought to be feeling the pride your
friends feel in you for your independence and honesty of
thought. Vain and conceited cranks may well be abominated by
their friends. But unfortunately it is not they who have the sense
of isolation which you feel. They are too satisfied with them-
selves to have any such feelings. It is only men like you would
have the feeling.
But do please remember this that your friends admire and are
helped by you even though they may not agree. It is everything
that at such a time as this you should have said what you
thought. For you know more about the Germans and other con-
tinental countries than most of us and you have also made a
special study of the first principles of action. And in these times
it is of the utmost importance and value that there should be
men like you by whom the rest of us can test themselves. I knew
scarcely anything of Germany until the war came on. And I am
by heredity inclined to take the soldier's view. So I approached
this question from quite a different standpoint to what you did.
I was all the more interested in knowing what you thought, and
tried to get my ideas straight and just by yours.
From my own experience of Government action and of mili-
tary attitudes I should say that it was almost impossible for any
one outside the inner Government circle to get a true view at the
first start off. The crisis came so suddenly to the outside public.
Underneath the surface it had been brewing up but we knew
nothing of it or very little. Then suddenly it breaks and we
have to form the best opinion we can. And as regards the mili-
[51]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
tary attitude I know from experience how frightfully dangerous
it is when you have the physical means of enforcing your own
point of view how apt you are to disregard any one else's. I
have seen that with military commanders on campaign and
probably I have been pretty bad myself. This it seems to me is
what Germany is suffering from. She certainly had accumu-
lated tremendous power and this made her utterly inconsiderate
of the feelings and rights of others. And what I take it we have
to drive into her is the elementary fact that it does not pay to
disregard these rights and feelings that she must regard
them.
Tours very sincerely,
FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND
A specimen typical of many:
Ryde
Sept. 20 '15
It may be perfectly true, and happily so, that you are not a
Fellow of Trinity, but your best friends, if you have any,
would not deny that you are a silly ass. And not only a silly
ass, but a mean-spirited and lying one at that, for you
have the sublime impertinence and untruthfulness to talk about
"no doubt atrocities have occurred on both sides." You, together
with your friends (?) Pigou, Marshall, Walter G. Bell, A. R.
Waller, Conybeare, etc. know perfectly well that to charge the
British Army with atrocities is a pernicious lie of which only an
English Boche traitor could be guilty, and your paltry at-
tempt to introduce the Russians stamps you for what you are!
Yours,
J. BULL
The occasion of the following letter was my taking the chair for
Shaw at a meeting to discuss the War.
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From G. B. Shaw 10 Adelphi Terrace.
[London] W.C.
16th October, 1915
Dear Bertrand Russell:
You had better talk it over with the Webbs. As far as I am
concerned, do exactly as the spirit moves you. If you wish to
reserve your fire, it is quite easy to open the meeting by simply
stating that it is a Fabian meeting, and that the business of the
Fabian Society is, within human limits, the dispassionate inves-
tigation of social problems, and the search for remedies for so-
cial evils; that war is a social problem like other social problems
and needs such investigation side by side with recruiting dem-
onstrations and patriotic revivals; that the subject of this eve-
nings lecture is the psychological side of war; and that you have
pleasure in calling upon etc etc etc etc.
I am certainly not going to be obviously politic, conciliatory
and bland. I mean to get listened to, and to make the lecture a
success; and I also mean to encourage the audience if I can; but
I shall do it with as much ostensible defiance of the lightning as
possible. The important thing is that the meeting should be
good humoured and plucky; for what is really the matter with
everybody is funk. In the right key one can say anything: in the
wrong key, nothing: the only delicate part of the job is the
establishment of the key.
I have no objection on earth to the lines you indicate; and
before or after my speech is the same to me. Our job is to make
people serious about the war. It is the monstrous triviality of the
damned thing, and the vulgar frivolity of what we imagine to be
patriotism, that gets at my temper.
Yours ever,
G.B.S.
P.S. As this will not be delivered until late afternoon (if then) I
send it to Webb's.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
The occasion of the following letter was my pamphlet on the
policy of the Entente, in which 1 criticized Gilbert Murray* $ de-
fence of Grey.
To Gilbert Murray 34, Russell Chambers
Bury Street, W.C.
28th December 1915
Dear Gilbert:
Thank you for your letter. I am very sorry I gave a wrong
impression about your connection with the F.O. I certainly
thought you had had more to do with them.
I agree with all you say about the future. I have no wish to
quarrel with those who stand for liberal ideas, however I may
disagree about the war. I thought it necessary to answer you,
just as you thought it necessary to write your pamphlet, but I
did not mean that there should be anything offensive in my an-
swer; if there was, I am sorry. I feel our friendship still lives in
the eternal world, whatever may happen to it here and now.
And I too can say God bless you.
Tours ever,
B. RUSSELL
The following letter should have been included in Volume I had
it been available at the time of the publication of Volume I. As it
was not, I add it here to other letters from George Santayana.
Queen's Acre
Windsor
Feb. 8, 1912
Dear Russell:
Many thanks for your message, which came this morning in
a letter from your brother. I am going to spend Sunday with
him at Telegraph House, but expect to go up to Cambridge on
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Monday or Tuesday of next week, and count on seeing you.
Meantime I have a proposal to make, or rather to renew, to you
on behalf of Harvard College. Would it be possible for you to
go there next year, from October 1912 to June 1913, in the ca-
pacity of professor of philosophy? Royce is to be taking a holi-
day, I shall be away, and Palmer will be there only for the first
half of the academic year. Perry, Mlinsterberg, and two or three
young psychologists will be alone on hand. What they have in
mind is that you should give a course three hours a week, of
which one may be delegated to the assistant which would be
provided for you, to read papers, etc. in logic, and what we
call a "Seminary" or "Seminar" in anything you liked. It would
also be possible for you to give some more popular lectures if
you liked, either at Harvard, or at the Lowell Institute in Bos-
ton. For the latter there are separate fees, and the salary of a
professor is usually $4000 (800) . We hope you will consider
this proposal favourably, as there is no one whom the younger
school of philosophers in America are more eager to learn of
than of you. You would bring new standards of precision and
independence of thought which would open their eyes, and
probably have the greatest influence on the rising generation of
professional philosophers in that country.
There is no particular urgency in receiving your answer, so
that you needn't write to me at all, but wait until I see you next
week, unless your decision is absolutely clear and unalterable,
in which case you might send me a line to Telegraph House.
My permanent address is
c/o Brown Shipley & Co.
123 Pall Mall, S.W.
Yours sincerely ,
G. SANTAYANA
P.S. I didn't mean to decline your kind offer to put me up, when
I go to Cambridge, but as I am going in the middle of the week,
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
I don't know whether it would be equally convenient for you to
do so.
Oxford, May 5th [19 15]
I read this about "war babies" in a Spanish newspaper:
"Kitchener, in creating an army, has created love. This is a
great change in a country where only marriage was known be-
fore."
G. SANTAYANA
[Dec. '17]
The situation is certainly bad from a military point of view,
or for those who are angry because the war interferes with their
private or political machinations. It may last a long time yet; or
else be renewed after a mock peace. But, looking at it all calmly,
like a philosopher, I find nothing to be pessimistic about. When
I go to Sandford to lunch, which is often, it does my heart good
to see so many freshly ploughed fields: England is becoming a
cultivated country, instead of being a land of moors and fens,
like barbarous North Germany. That alone seems to me more
than a compensation for all losses: it is setting the foundations
right. As for Russia, I rather like Lenin, (not that fatuous Ka-
rensky!) ; he has an ideal he is willing to fight for, and it is a
profoundly anti-German ideal. If he remains in power, he may
yet have to fight the Germans, and it will be with very poison-
ous gas indeed. Besides, I think their plans at Berlin have
profoundly miscarried, and that the Prussian educational-
industrial-military domination we were threatened with is
undermined at home. Military victory would not now do, be-
cause the more peoples they rope in, the more explosives they
will be exploding under their own establishment.
As for deaths and loss of capital, I don't much care. The
young men killed would grow older if they lived, and then they
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would be good for nothing; and after being good for nothing for
a number of years they would die of catarrh or a bad kidney or
the halter or old age and would that be less horrible? I am
willing, almost glad, that the world should be poorer: I only
wish the population too could become more sparse; and I am
perfectly willing to live on a bread-ticket and a lodging-ticket
and be known only by a number instead of a baptismal name,
provided all this made an end of living on lies, and really
cleared the political air. But I am afraid the catastrophe won't
be great enough for that, and that some false arrangement will
be patched up in spite of Lenin so that we shall be very
much as we were before. People are not intelligent. It is very
unreasonable to expect them to be so, and that is a fate my phi-
losophy reconciled me to long ago. How else could I have lived
for forty years in America?
All this won't interest you, but since it is written I will let it
go.
[G. SANTAYANA]
To Ottoline Morrell [Cambridge]
1915
Did you see in to-day's Morning Post a letter from an Ameri-
can, dated "Ritz Hotel," expressing his horrified bewilderment
to find, in New College Chapel, a tablet inscribed "Pro Patria,"
on which are being inscribed the names of New College men
who have been killed in the war, among the rest three Germans!
He expressed his horror to the verger, who replied "They died
for their country. I knew them they were very fine men." It is
creditable to New College. The worthy American thinks it nec-
essary to give us a lesson in how to be patriots.
"Elizabeth" [my sister-in-law] expressed regret at the fact
that her 5 German nephews in the war are all still alive. She is a
true patriot. The American would like her.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
I could come to you Tues. & Wed. 15th and 16th, if it suited
you. I should like to see [D. H.] Lawrence. . . .
[Cambridge]
Sunday evg.
[Postmark 10 May '15]
I am feeling the weight of the war much more since I came
back here one is made so terribly aware of the waste when
one is here. And Rupert Brooke's death brought it home to me.
It is deadly to be here now, with all the usual life stopped.
There will be other generations yet I keep fearing that some-
thing of civilization will be lost for good, as something was lost
when Greece perished in just this way. Strange how one values
civilization more than all one's friends or anything the
slow achievement of men emerging from the brute it seems
the ultimate thing one lives for. I don't live for human happi-
ness, but for some kind of struggling emergence of mind. And
here, at most times, that is being helped on and what has
been done is given to new generations, who travel on from
where we have stopped. And now it is all arrested, and no one
knows if it will start again at anything like the point where it
stopped. And all the elderly apostates are overjoyed.
34 Russell Chambers
Wed. night
[Postmark 27 My. '15]
I am only just realizing how Cambridge oppressed me. I feel
far more alive here, and far better able to face whatever horrors
the time may bring. Cambridge has ceased to be a home and a
refuge to me since the war began. I find it unspeakably painful
being thought a traitor. Every casual meeting in the Court
makes me quiver with sensitive apprehension. One ought to be
more hardened.
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My Dearest, forgive me that I have been so horrid lately. But
really I have had rather a bad time, and I have been haunted by
horrors, and I didn't want to speak all that was in my mind until
it had subsided, because it was excessive and mad. So I got stiff
and dull.
Friday
[Postmark HJu 15]
I think I will make friends with the No-Conscription people.
The U.D.C. is too mild and troubled with irrelevancies. It will
be all right after the war, but not now. I wish good people were
not so mild. The non-resistance people I know here are so Sun-
day-schooly one feels they don't know the volcanic side of
human nature, they have little humour, no intensity of will,
nothing of what makes men effective. They would never have
denounced the Pharisees or turned out the money-changers.
How passionately I long that one could break through the
prison walls in one's own nature. I feel now-a-days so much as if
some great force for good were imprisoned within me by scepti-
cism and cynicism and lack of faith. But those who have no
such restraint always seem ignorant and a little foolish. It all
makes one feel very lonely.
I can't make head or tail of Lawrence's philosophy. I dread
talking to him about it. It is not sympathetic to me.
July 1915
Lawrence took up my time from morning till 10:30, so I
couldn't write yesterday. We had a terrific argument but not a
disastrous one. He attacks me for various things that I don't feel
to blame about chiefly, in effect, for having a scientific tem-
per and a respect for fact. I will send you his written comments
on my syllabus. I shall be glad to know what you think of them.
He took me to see a Russian Jew, Kotiliansky, and [Middleton]
Murry and Mrs. Murry [Katherine Mansfield] they were all
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
sitting together in a bare office high up next door to the Holborn
Restaurant, with the windows shut, smoking Russian cigarettes
without a moment's intermission, idle and cynical. I thought
Murry beastly and the whole atmosphere of the three dead and
putrefying.
Then we went to the Zoo the baboon gave me much cyni-
cal satisfaction: he looked long and deliberately at everybody,
and then slowly showed his teeth and snarled, with inconceiva-
ble hatred and disgust. Swift would have loved him. Then we
went up to Hampstead, to the Radfords, where Mrs. Lawrence
was staying. I was dead tired after the first hour, as we began
arguing at once. I told Lawrence that I thought we ought to be
independent of each other, at any rate at first, and not try to
start a school. When he talks politics he seems to me so wild
that I could not formally work with him. I hope he won't be
hurt. He did not seem to be, as I put it very carefully. He is
undisciplined in thought, and mistakes his wishes for facts. He
is also muddleheaded. He says "facts" are quite unimportant,
only "truths" matter. London is a "fact" not a "truth." But he
wants London pulled down. I tried to make him see that that
would be absurd if London were unimportant, but he kept reit-
erating that London doesn't really exist, and that he could easily
make people see it doesn't, and then they would pull it down. He
was so confident of his powers of persuasion that I challenged
him to come to Trafalgar Square at once and begin preaching.
That brought him to earth and he began to shuffle. His attitude
is a little mad and not quite honest, or at least very muddled. He
has not learnt the lesson of individual impotence. And he re-
gards all my attempts to make him acknowledge facts as mere
timidity, lack of courage to think boldly, self-indulgence in pes-
simism. When one gets a glimmer of the facts into his head, as
I did at last, he gets discouraged, and says he will go to the
South Sea Islands, and bask in the sun with 6 native wives. He
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is tough work. The trouble with him is a tendency to mad exag-
geration.
July 1915
Tuesday
Yes, the day Lawrence was with me was horrid. I got filled
with despair, and just counting the moments till it was ended.
Partly that was due to liver, but not wholly. Lawrence is very
like Shelley just as fine, but with a similar impatience of
fact. The revolution he hopes for is just like Shelley's prophecy
of banded anarchs fleeing while the people celebrate a feast of
love. His psychology of people is amazingly good up to a point,
but at a certain point he gets misled by love of violent colouring.
Friday evg. I dined with my Harvard pupil, [T. S.] Eliot,
and his bride. I expected her to be terrible, from his mysterious-
ness; but she was not so bad. She is light, a little vulgar, adven-
turous, full of life an artist I think he said, but I should have
thought her an actress. He is exquisite and listless; she says she
married him to stimulate him, but finds she can't do it. Obvi-
ously he married in order to be stimulated. I think she will soon
be tired of him. She refuses to go to America to see his people,
for fear of submarines. He is ashamed of his marriage, and very
grateful if one is kind to her. He is the Miss Sands * type of
American.
Hatch
Kingsley Green
Haslemere
Thurs. mg.
[Postmark 9 Sp. '15]
My Darling:
I was very glad of your letter this morning such a dear
letter. I wish I could avoid getting unhappy. I can, if I have
* Miss Sands was a highly cultivated New Englander, a painter and a friend of
Henry James and Logan Pears all Smith.
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The Autobiography of Eertrand Russell
interests away from you and do not stay on and on in the family
atmosphere but otherwise the feeling of being a mere super-
fluous ghost, looking on but not participating, grows too strong
to be borne. By spending some days in town each week it will be
all right. The Lady* has been explaining the situation to me,
and is going to do so further today, as she is taking me out for a
picnic, while Mrs. Waterlow [her sister] goes to town. She
says and I believe her that she was unguarded with my
brother at first, because she looked upon him as safely married,
and therefore suitable as a lover. Suddenly, without consulting
her, he wrote and said he was getting divorced. It took her
breath away, and rather flattered her; she drifted, said nothing
definite, but allowed him tacitly to assume everything. Now she
is feeling very worried, because the inexorable moment is com-
ing when his divorce will be absolute and she will have to de-
cide. Her objections to him are the following:
(a) He sleeps with 7 dogs on his bed. She couldn't sleep a
wink in such circumstances, f
( b ) He reads Kipling aloud.
( c ) He loves Telegraph House, which is hideous.
I daresay other objections might be found if one searched
long enough, they are all three well chosen to appeal to me. She
is a flatterer, and has evidently set herself to the task of getting
me to be not against her if she breaks with him. But it is an
impossible task. I am too fond of my brother, and shall mind his
suffering too much, to forgive her inwardly even if she has a
perfectly good case. She says she is still in great uncertainty,
but I don't think she will marry him. She would be delighted to
go on having him for a lover, but I feel sure he will never agree
to that.
I must finish, as this must be posted in a moment.
* "Elizabeth," my brother's third wife.
I 1 told her about Josephine's dog biting Napoleon. What Emperors have borne,
she may. (Josephine's dog bit Napoleon in the calf on their wedding-night.)
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Don't worry about me. It will be all right as long as I don't let
my thoughts get too concentrated on what I can't have. I loved
the children's picnic, because for once I was not a ghost. I can't
enter into the family life when you are present, partly because
you absorb my attention, partly because in your presence I am
always paralyzed with terror, stiff and awkward from the sense
of your criticism. I know that some things I do or don't do
annoy you, for reasons I don't understand, and it makes it im-
possible for me to be natural before you, though sometimes it
makes me exaggerate the things you hate. But when I am not
tired, I can surmount all those things. Owing to being con-
strained and frightened when I am with you, my vitality doesn't
last long at Garsington, and when it is gone I become defence-
less against thoughts I want to keep at a distance.
Thursday night
[Postmark London,
29 October '15]
My Darling:
I was glad to get your letter. I had begun to feel anxious. I
am glad Lawrence was so wonderful. I have no doubt he is
right to go, but I couldn't desert England. I simply cannot bear
to think that England is entering on its autumn of life it is
too much anguish. I will not believe it, and I will believe there is
health and vigour in the nation somewhere. It is all hell now,
and shame but I believe the very shame will in the end wake
a new spirit. The more England goes down and down, the more
profoundly I want to help, and the more I feel tied to England
for good or ill. I cannot write of other things, they seem so small
in comparison.
Tour
B.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
Wednesday
[Postmark Nov. 10, '15]
Eliot had a half holiday yesterday and got home at 3 :30. It is
quite funny how I have come to love him, as if he were my son.
He is becoming much more of a man. He has a profound and
quite unselfish devotion to his wife, and she is really very fond
of him, but has impulses of cruelty to him from time to time. It
is a Dostojevsky type of cruelty, not a straightforward every-
day kind. I am every day getting things more right between
them, but I can't let them alone at present, and of course I my-
self get very much interested. She is a person who lives on a
knife-edge, and will end as a criminal or a saint I don't know
which yet. She has a perfect capacity for both.
Wed. [1915]
My Darling:
I don't know what has come over me lately but I have sunk
again into the state of lethargy that I have had at intervals since
the war began. I am sure I ought to live differently, but I have
utterly lost all will-power. I want someone to take me in hand
and order me about, telling me where to live and what to do and
leaving me no self -direction at all. I have never felt quite like
that before. It is all mental fatigue I am sure, but it is very in-
tense, and it leaves me with no interest in anything, and not
enough energy to get into a better frame of mind by my own
efforts. In fact I should fight against anything that might be
suggested to do me good. My impulse is just to sit still and
brood.
I can't do much till my lectures are over but that won't be
long now. If I could get some one like Desmond [MacCarthy]
to come to the country with me then and make me walk a lot, I
should get better. But everyone is busy and I haven't the energy
to arrange things. I don't do any work. I shall have to get to
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work for Harvard some time but the thought of work is a night-
mare. I am sure something ought to be done or I shall go to
pieces.
Irene [Cooper Willis] has just been here scolding me about
Helen [Dudley] someone told her the whole story lately
that hasn't made me any more cheerful than I was before.
Sense of Sin is one of the things that trouble me at these times.
The state of the world is at the bottom of it I think, and the
terrible feeling of impotence. I thought I had got over it but it
has come back worse than ever. Can you think of anything that
would help me? I should be grateful if you could. My existence
just now is really too dreadful.
I know now that it is just an illness and it doesn't any longer
make me critical of you or of anybody. It is my will that is gone.
I have used it too much and it has snapped.
You have enough burdens already but if you know anyone
who could look after me for a while and order me about it would
make a difference.
Your
B.
Sat. [1916]
I enclose a letter from Captain White. You will see that he
feels the same sort of hostility or antagonism to me that Law-
rence feels I think it is a feeling that seems to exist in most of
the people with whom I feel in sympathy on the spiritual side
probably the very same thing which has prevented you from
caring for me as much as you thought you would at first. I wish
you could find out and tell me what it is. It makes one feel very
isolated. People with whom I have intellectual sympathy hardly
ever have any spiritual life, or at any rate have very little; and
the others seem to find the intellectual side of me unbearable.
You will think I am lapsing into morbidness again, but that is
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
not so; I simply want to get to the bottom of it so as to under-
stand it; if I can't get over it, it makes it difficult to achieve
much.
I had told White I was troubled by the fact that my audiences
grow, and that people who ought to be made uncomfortable by
my lectures* are not notably Mrs. Acland [whose husband
was in the Government], who sits enjoying herself, with no
feeling that what I say is a condemnation of the Government. I
thought after my last lecture I would point the moral practi-
cally.
I feel I know very little of what you have been thinking and
feeling lately. I have been so busy that my letters have been
dull, so I can't complain. But it will be a relief to see you and to
find out something of what has been going on in you. Ever since
the time when I was at Garsington last, I have been quite happy
as far as personal things are concerned. Do you remember that
at the time when you were seeing Vittozf I wrote a lot of stuff
about Theory of Knowledge, which Wittgenstein criticized
with the greatest severity? His criticism, tho' I don't think you
realized it at the time, was an event of first-rate importance in
my life, and affected everything I have done since. I saw he was
right, and I saw that I could not hope ever again to do funda-
mental work in philosophy. My impulse was shattered, like a
wave dashed to pieces against a breakwater. I became filled
with utter despair, J and tried to turn to you for consolation. But
you were occupied with Vittoz and could not give me time. So I
took to casual philandering, and that increased my despair. I
had to produce lectures for America, but I took a metaphysical
subject although I was and am convinced that all fundamental
work in philosophy is logical. My reason was that Wittgenstein
persuaded me that what wanted doing in logic was too difficult
* These lectures afterwards became Principles of Social Reconstruction.
f A Swiss physician who treated her.
1 1 soon got over this mood.
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for me. So there was no really vital satisfaction of my philo-
sophical impulse in that work, and philosophy lost its hold on
me. That was due to Wittgenstein more than to the war. What
the war has done is to give me a new and less difficult ambition,
which seems to me quite as good as the old one. My lectures
have persuaded me that there is a possible life and activity in
the new ambition. So I want to work quietly, and I feel more at
peace as regards work than I have ever done since Wittgen-
stein's onslaught.
40, Museum Street
London, W.C.
November 29th, 1915
Dear Sir:
I notice with very great interest in the current number of The
Cambridge Magazine that you are planning to give a Course of
Lectures on "The Principles of Social Reconstruction."
If it is your intention that the Lectures should subsequently
be published in book form, I hope we may have the pleasure of
issuing them for you.
We enclose a prospectus of Towards a Lasting Settlement, a
volume in which we know you are interested. We hope to pub-
lish the book on December 6th.
Tours faithfully,
STANLEY UNWIN
This was the beginning of my connection with Allen &f
Unwin.
From T. S. Eliot Tuesday
[Jan. 1916]
Dear Bertie:
This is wonderfully kind of you really the last straw ( so
to speak) of generosity. I am very sorry you have to come back
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
and Vivien says you have been an angel to her but of
course I shall jump at the opportunity with the utmost grati-
tude. I am sure you have done everything possible and handled
her in the very best way better than I I often wonder how
things would have turned out but for you I believe we shall
owe her life to you, even.
I shall take the 10:30, and look forward to a talk with you
before you go. Mrs. Saich* is expecting you. She has made me
very comfortable here.
Affectionately,
TOM
4446 Westminster Place
May 23rd, 1916
Dear Mr. Russell:
Your letter relative to a cablegram sent us, was received some
little time ago. I write now to thank you for the affection that
inspired it. It was natural you should feel as you did with the
awful tragedy of the Sussex of such recent occurrence. Mr.
Eliot did not believe it possible that even the Germans, (a syno-
nym for all that is most frightful,) would attack an American
liner. It would be manifestly against their interest. Yet I am
aware there is still a possibility of war between Germany and
America. The more we learn of German methods, open and se-
cret, the greater is the moral indignation of many Americans. I
am glad all our ancestors are English with a French ancestry
far back on one line. I am sending Tom copy of a letter written
by his Great-great-grandfather in 1811, giving an account of
his grandfather (one of them) who was born about 1676
* The charwoman at my flat. She said I was "a very percentric gentleman." Once
when the gasman came and turned out to be a socialist, she said "he talked just like
a gentleman." She had supposed only "gentlemen" were socialists.
Mrs. Eliot was ill and needed a holiday. Eliot at first could not leave London, so
I went first with her to Torquay, and Eliot replaced me after a few days.
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in the county of Devon, England Christopher Pearse.
I am sure your influence in every way will confirm my son in
his choice of Philosophy as a life work. Professor Wood speaks
of his thesis as being of exceptional value. I had hoped he would
seek a University appointment next year. If he does not I shall
feel regret. I have absolute faith in his Philosophy but not in the
vers libres.
Tom is very grateful to you for your sympathy and kindness.
This gratitude I share.
Sincerely yours,
CHARLOTTE C. ELIOT*
To Lucy Martin Donnelly f 34 Russell Chambers
BurySt.,W.C.
10 Feb. 1916
My dear Lucy:
I was glad to hear from you at Kyoto as for Continents,
there are so far only 3 in which I have written to you it is
your plain duty to go to Africa & Australia in order to complete
your collection.
I do hope you will manage to come to England by the Sibe-
rian Railway. It would be a great pleasure to see you, & I am
sure that I could make you sympathize with the point of view
which I & most of my friends take about the war.
You needn't have been afraid about my lectures. Helen
[Flexner] wrote me quite a serious remonstrance, which
amused me. I should have thought she would have known by
this time that social caution in the expression of opinion is not
my strong point. If she had known Christ before he delivered
the Sermon on the Mount she would have begged him to keep
silence for fear of injuring his social position in Nazareth. Peo-
* T. S. Eliot's mother.
t Professor of English at Bryn Mawr College.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
pie who count in the world are oblivious of such things. As a
matter of fact, my lectures are a great success they are a
rallying-ground for the intellectuals, who are coming daily
more to my way of thinking not only as regards the war but also
as regards general politics. All sorts of literary & artistic people
who formerly despised politics are being driven to action, as
they were in France by the Dreyfus case. In the long run, their
action will have a profound effect. It is primarily to them that I
am speaking. I have given up writing on the war because I
have said my say & there is nothing new to say. My ambi-
tions are more vast & less immediate than my friends' ambitions
for me. I don't care for the applause one gets by saying what
others are thinking; I want actually to change people's
thoughts. Power over people's minds is the main personal desire
of my life; & this sort of power is not acquired by saying popu-
lar things. In philosophy, when I was young, my views were as
unpopular & strange as they could be; yet I have had a very
great measure of success. Now I have started on a new career, &
if I live & keep my faculties, I shall probably be equally success-
ful. Harvard has invited me to give a course of lectures 12
months hence on the sort of things I am now lecturing on, & I
have agreed to go. As soon as the war is over, people here will
want just that sort of thing. When you once understand what
my ambitions are, you will see that I go the right way about to
realize them. In any large undertaking, there are rough times to
go through, & of course success may not come till after one is
dead but those things don't matter if one is in earnest. I have
something important to say on the philosophy of life & politics,
something appropriate to the times. People's general outlook
here has changed with extraordinary rapidity during the last 10
years; their beliefs are disintegrated, & they want a new doc-
trine. But those who will mould the future won't listen to any-
thing that retains old superstitions & conventions. There is a
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sharp cleavage between old & young; after a gradual develop-
ment, I have come down on the side of the young. And because I
am on their side, I can contribute something of experience
which they are willing to respect when it is not merely criticism.
Let me hear again soon I am interested by your impres-
sions of the Far East.
Yrs affly,
B. RUSSELL
Have you read Romain Rolland's Life of Michel Angelo? It
is a wonderful book.
To Ottoline Morrell Sunday aft.
[Postmark London 30 Jan. '16]
I have read a good deal of Havelock Ellis on sex. It is full of
things that everyone ought to know, very scientific and
objective, most valuable and interesting. What a folly it is the
way people are kept in ignorance on sexual matters, even when
they think they know everything. I think almost all civilized
people are in some way what would be thought abnormal, and
they suffer because they don't know that really ever so many
people are just like them. One so constantly hears of things
going wrong when people marry, merely through not knowing
the sort of things that are likely to happen, and through being
afraid to talk frankly. It seems clear to me that marriage ought
to be constituted by children, and relations not involving chil-
dren ought to be ignored by the law and treated as indifferent by
public opinion. It is only through children that relations cease to
be a purely private matter. The whole traditional morality I am
sure is superstitious. It is not true that the very best things are
more likely to come to those who are very restrained they
either grow incapable of letting themselves go, or when they
do, they become too violent and headlong. Do you agree?
Goodbye my darling. I am as happy as one can be in these
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
times, and very full of love. It -will be a joy to see you again if
you come up.
Tour
B.
Trin. Coll.
Feb. 27 1916
My Darling:
I believe I forgot to tell you I was coming here for the week-
end. I came to speak to the "Indian Majliss" a Club of Indian
students here. They were having their annual dinner, about 100
of them, and they asked me to propose the toast of "India." Your
friend Sarawadi ( ? ) was there, and spoke extraordinarily well.
They had asked me because of the line I have taken about the
war at least I suppose so. But when I came to speak an odd
sense of responsibility came over me. I remembered that after
all I don't want the Germans to win, and I don't want India to
rebel at this moment. I said that if I were a native of India I did
not think I should desire a German victory. This was received
in dead silence, and subsequent speeches said that was the only
thing in my speech that they disagreed with. Their nationalism
was impressive. They spoke of unity between Moslems and
Hindoos, of the oppressiveness of England, of sharp defeat as
the only way of checking tyrants. Many of them were able, very
earnest, quite civilised. The man who spoke last was a biologist,
full of passion for science, just going to return to India. "I am
going," he said, "from this land of prosperity to the land of
plague and famine, from this land of freedom to the land where
if I am truthful I am disloyal, if I am honest I am seditious;
from this land of enlightenment to the land of religious bigotry,
the land that I love, my country. A man must be more than
human to love such a country; but those who would serve it
have become more than human." What a waste to make such
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men fight political battles! In a happier world, he would proba-
bly discover preventives for cholera; as it is, his life will be full
of strife and bitterness, resisting evil, not creating good. All of
them were fearless and thoughtful; most of them were very bit-
ter. Mixed in with it all was an odd strain of undergraduate fun
and banter, jibes about the relative merits of Oxford and
Cambridge, and such talk as amuses the English youth in quiet
times. The mixture, which was in each separate speech, was
very curious.
Tonight I meet them again, or some of them, and give them
my lecture on education. I am very glad indeed to have got to
know their point of view and their character. It must be appall-
ingly tragic to be civilised and educated and belong to such a
country as India.
Helen [Dudley] is coming to lunch. I hope I shall see Nicod;
also Armstrong. * Yesterday I lunched with Waterlowf which
was dull.
I spoke to the Indians for half an hour, entirely without prep-
aration or any scrap of notes. I believe I speak better that way,
more spontaneously and less monotonously.
Trinity College
Sunday evening 19 Mar. '16
My Darling:
The melancholy of this place now-a-days is beyond endur-
ance the Colleges are dead, except for a few Indians and a
few pale pacifists and bloodthirsty old men hobbling along vic-
torious in the absence of youth. Soldiers are billeted in the
courts and drill on the grass; bellicose parsons preach to them
in stentorian tones from the steps of the Hall. The town at night
* Armstrong 1 was a man whom I came to know as an undergraduate at Cam-
bridge. He enlisted at the beginning of the war, lost a leg and became a pacifist.
f Afterwards Sir Sidney. He was a nephew of Elizabeth, and in the Foreign
Office. We had many common friends at Cambridge.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
is plunged in a darkness compared to which London is a blaze
of light. All that one has cared for is dead, at least for the pres-
ent; and it is hard to believe that it will ever revive. No one
thinks about learning or feels it of any importance. And from
the outer deadness my thoughts travel to the deadness in myself
I look round my shelves at the books of mathematics and
philosophy that used to seem full of hope and interest, and now
leave me utterly cold. The work I have done seems so little, so
irrelevant to this world in which we find we are living. And in
everything except work I have failed so utterly. All the hopes of
five years ago come before me like ghosts. I struggle to banish
them from my mind but I can't. All our happy times are in my
memory, though I know it is better not to think of them. I know
I must work and think and learn to be interested in mental
things, but utter weariness overwhelms me in the thought. It is
no use to keep on running away from spectres. I must let them
catch me up and then face them. When I have learnt to work
properly again, I shall feel more inward independence, and
things will be better. Ever since I knew you, I have tried to get
from you what one ought to get out of oneself.
46 Gordon Square
Bloomsbury
Tuesday night
[1916]
My Darling:
I have not heard from you since the letter you wrote on Fri-
day, but as I only get my letters once a day now (when I call for
them, in the morning) it is not surprising.
I had a queer adventure today. Lloyd George was led to think
he might as well find out at first hand about the conscientious
objectors, so he had Clifford Allen and Miss Marshall and me to
lunch at his place near Reigate, fetching us and sending us
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back in his own motor. He was very unsatisfactory, and I think
only wanted to exercise his skill in trying to start a process of
bargaining. Still, it was worth something that he should see
Allen and know the actual man. It will make him more reluc-
tant to have him shot.
I feel convinced the men will have to suffer a good deal before
public opinion and Government will cease to wish to persecute
them. I got the impression that LI. George expects the war to
go on for a long time yet; also that he thinks the whole situation
very black. He seemed quite heartless. Afterwards I saw Ander-
son [a Labour M.P.] at the House: he is an oily humbug.
It is quite private about L.G. I suppose.
The first thing that wants doing is to overhaul the whole of
the decisions of the Tribunals and have all conscience cases re-
heard. No doubt a good many are cowards: people are unspeak-
ably cruel about cowardice some have gone mad, some have
committed suicide, and people merely shrug their shoulders and
remark that they had no pluck. Nine-tenths of the human race
are incredibly hateful.
10 Adelphi Terrace. W.C.
18th April 1916
Dear Bertrand Russell:
Yeats wrote to me about Chappelow, enclosing a letter from a
lady, a cousin of his. But I really dont see what is to be done.
The Act has been passed; and he must either serve or go
through with his martyrdom. There is no ground on which ex-
emption can be demanded for him: he seems to have just let
things slide, like a child unable to conceive that the law had
anything to do with him personally, instead of appealing or tak-
ing advice. I have no private influence; and exfluence, which I
probably have, would not help him.
His letter is not that of a man made of martyr-stuff. He seems
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
to be, like many literary people, helpless in practical affairs and
the army is in some ways the very place for him; for he will be
trained to face the inevitable, and yet have no responsibilities.
He will be fed and clothed and exercised and told what to do;
and he will have unlimited opportunities for thinking about
other things. He will not be asked to kill anybody for a year to
come; and if he finds his conscience insuperably averse, he can
throw down his arms and take his two years hard labor then if
he must, and be in much better condition for it. But by that time
he will either have been discharged as unfit for service or else
have realized that a man living in society must act according to
the collective conscience under whatever protest his individual
conscience may impel him to make. I think that is what we are
bound to tell all the pacific young men who apply to us. Martyr-
dom is a matter for the individual soul : you cant advise a man
to undertake it.
I do not blame any intelligent man for trying to dodge the
atrocious boredom of soldiering if it can be dodged; but Chap-
pelow seems to have been too helpless to make any attempt to
dodge it: he simply stood gaping in the path of the steamroller.
I am sorry for him; but I can only advise him to serve. Can you
suggest anything better?
Tours ever,
G. BERNARD SHAW
Postscript
It would hardly help him to say "I don't mind being bound by
the conscience of England, or by my own conscience; but I don't
feel at home with the conscience of Lord Northcliffe, Sir Ed-
ward Carson, and General Robertson, who naturally thinks
there is nothing like leather."
P.P.S.
Influence can work only in the direction of letting the pris-
oner out after he is sentenced on some pretext or other.
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The folio-wing is the leaflet for -which 7, in common with those
who distributed it, was prosecuted;
TWO YEARS' HARD LABOUR FOR
REFUSING TO DISOBEY THE
DICTATES OF CONSCIENCE.
This was the sentence passed on Ernest F. Everett, of 222,
Denton's Green Lane, St. Helens, by a Court Martial held on
April 10th [1916].
Everett was a teacher at St. Helens, and had been opposed to
all war since the age of 16. He appealed as a Conscientious Ob-
jector before the Local and Appeal Tribunals, both of which
treated him very unfairly, going out of their way to recommend
his dismissal from school. They recognised his conscientious
claim only so far as to award him non-combatant service. But as
the purpose of such service is to further the prosecution of the
war, and to release others for the trenches, it was impossible for
him to accept the decision of the Tribunals.
On March 31st he was arrested as an absentee, brought be-
fore the magistrates, fined 2, and handed over to the Military
Authorities. By them he was taken under escort to Warrington
Barracks, where he was compelled to put on uniform. On April
1st he was taken to Abergele, where he was placed in the Non-
Combatant Corps, which is part of the Army.
He adopted consistently a policy of passive resistance to all
military orders. The first morning, April 2, when the men were
ordered to fall in for fatigue duty, he refused, saying: "I refuse
to obey any order given by any military authority." According
to the Corporal, who gave the order, Everett "said it in quite a
nice way."
The Corporal informed the Lieutenant, who repeated the
order, and warned Everett of the seriousness of his conduct.
Everett still answered politely, but explained why he could not
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
obey. The Lieutenant ordered the Conscientious Objector to the
guard-room, where he remained all night.
The Captain visited the prisoner, who stated that "he was not
going to take orders." The Captain ordered him to be brought
before the Commanding Officer on a charge of disobedience.
Everett was next brought before the Colonel, who read aloud
to him Section 9 of the Army Act, and explained the serious
consequences of disobedience. But Everett remained firm, say-
ing "He could not and would not obey any military order."
The result was that he was tried by Court Martial on April
10th. He stated in evidence in his own defence: "I am prepared
to do work of national importance which does not include mili-
tary service, so long as I do not thereby release some other man
to do what I am not prepared to do myself."
The sentence was two years' hard labour. Everett is now
suffering this savage punishment solely for refusal to go
against his conscience. He is fighting the old fight for liberty
and against religious persecution in the same spirit in which
martyrs suffered in the past. Will you join the persecutors? Or
will you stand for those who are defending conscience at the
cost of obloquy and pain of mind and body?
Forty other men are suffering persecution for conscience sake
in the same way as Mr. Everett. Can you remain silent whilst
this goes on?
Issued by the No-Conscription Fellowship, 8, Merton House,
Salisbury Court, Fleet Street, London, E.C.
From The Times of May 17, 1916
ADSUM QUI FECI.*
To the Editor of The Times
Sir, A leaflet was lately issued by the No-Conscription Fellow-
* The heading to this letter was added by The Times.
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ship dealing with the case of Mr. Everett, a conscientious objec-
tor, who was sentenced to two years' hard labour by Court-
martial for disobedience to the military authorities. Six men
have been condemned to varying terms of imprisonment with
hard labour for distributing this leaflet. I wish to make it known
that I am the author of this leaflet, and that if anyone is to be
prosecuted I am the person primarily responsible.
Tours faithfully,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
June 4th [1916]
Dearest Bertie:
Good luck to you in every way. Let me know if and how I can
help or shew any office of friendship. You know well enough
that the mere fact that I think your views of state policy and of
private duty in relation to it to be mistaken, do not diminish
affection.
Tours affectionately,
A. N. WHITEHEAD
I am just going to commence my address for Section A at
Newcastle in September I will shew it you in ms.
British Embassy
Washington
8 June 1916
My dear Mr. President:*
I am sorry to say that Russell has been convicted under "de-
fence of the realm act" for writing an undesirable pamphlet.
Under these circumstances it would be impossible to issue a
passport to him to leave the country.
I am sorry, and Sir Edward Grey is sorry, that it is impossi-
* The President of Harvard University.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
ble to meet your wishes but I trust that you will understand the
necessity in which my government is placed.
Oddly enough I was at the Berlin Embassy when we got into
trouble owing to RusselPs attitude when on a visit to Berlin as
the German government strongly objected to his language/
Tours sincerely )
CECIL SPRING
To Professor James H. Woods t 34 Russell Chambers
30 July 1916
Dear Professor Woods:
Your letter and the Ambassador's were not wholly a surprise
to me. I cabled to you on receiving them, but I doubt if the cable
ever reached you. Your letter was most kind. The allusion to my
doings in Berlin was misleading. I was there in 1895 for the
purpose of writing a book on German Socialism; this led me to
associate with Socialists, and therefore to be excluded from the
Embassy. I did nothing publicly all the time I was there. The
Kaiser was having Socialists imprisoned in large numbers for
their opinions, which gave me a hatred for him that I retain to
this day. But unless in quite private conversations I never ex-
pressed my feelings all the time I was there. I have never been
in Berlin since 1895.
I should be glad to know whether you have seen or received
the verbatim report of my trial. It has been sent you, but may
have been stopped by the Censor, who is anxious that America
should not know the nature of my crime. You will have heard
that I have been turned out of Trinity for the same offence. The
sum-total of my crime was that I said two years' hard labour in
prison was an excessive punishment for the offence of having a
* It was not my language, but my attending Socialist meetings, that was ob-
jected to.
t British Ambassador in Washington.
J Of the Harvard Department of Philosophy.
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conscientious objection to participation in war. Since then, the
same offence has been punished by the death-sentence, com-
muted to 10 years' penal servitude. Anyone who thinks that I
can be made to hold my tongue when such things are being
done is grossly mistaken. And the Government only advertizes
its own errors by trying ineffectually to punish those of us who
won't be silent. Working men are sent to prison when they com-
mit the crime that I committed. And when they come out, no
one will employ them, so that they are reduced to living on char-
ity. This is a war for liberty.
This letter will no doubt never reach you, but it may be found
interesting by the Censor. If it does reach you, please let me
know by return of post. It is a matter of some public interest to
know what is allowed to pass, and if I don't hear from you
within 6 weeks I shall assume that this letter has been stopped.
These are fierce times. But there is a new spirit abroad, and
good will come out of it all in the end. I wish your country had
not embarked upon the career of militarism.
Tours ever gratefully,
B.R.
To Ottoline Morrell
[June 1916]
My Darling:
A 1000 thanks for your dear dear letter which I have just
got. I am grateful for it.
This prosecution is the very thing I wanted. I have a very
good case morally as good as possible. I think myself that
the legal case is good tho' no doubt they will convict, and I
rather hope they will. I have seen the solicitor (George Baker)
and arranged to defend myself without a barrister in the 1st
Court on Monday. Then I shall appeal,* and employ a barrister
the 2nd time. The 2nd time is not till the autumn, so I shall be
* I appealed and was again convicted.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
able to go round the country in the summer as I had planned.
That is not at all a wild scheme apart from any good it may
do, I shall learn a lot that I want to know.
I saw Miss Marshall and Allen and a number of the others
they were all delighted and hoping I should get a savage, sen-
tence. It is all great fun, as well as a magnificent opportunity.
The sort of opportunity I have longed for and I have come by
it legitimately, without going out of my way. I am going back
to Cambridge now, coming up again Friday and staying here
till Monday. Think of me Monday 11:30. I hope I shall be
worthy of the occasion.
Goodbye my Darling Love. Your love and sympathy do help
far more than you know.
Tour
B.
Monday evg. [1916]
Today I had lunch and a country walk with the Rev. Morgan
Jones, a prominent pacifist here [in South Wales] and a real
saint. Then I went to a neighbouring town for a meeting it
was to have been in the school, but that was refused at the last
moment, so we had it in the open air. A Unitarian Minister
spoke who has a son a CO. It is wonderful what the C.Os. have
done for the cause of peace the heroism is no longer all on
the side of war.
I ought to have gone into more hostile districts. Here it is
merely a picnic and I feel I should be better employed in town.
After the 23rd I shall be back in town by then most of our
Nat. Committee will be gone.
I am longing to know how Allen's visit went off. I am so
terribly afraid it will have been a failure.
Speaking is a great nervous strain. I feel very slack all the
rest of the time. But I sleep well and my mind is at peace so I
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don't get really tired. I never have any fundamental worries
now-a-days.
I shall be very poor, having lost America and probably Trin-
ity. I shall have to find some other way of making money. I
think if Trinity turns me out I shall advertise academic lectures
in London on philosophical subjects. It would be delightful if
they succeeded, as they wouldn't interfere with political work. I
have often dreamt of having an independent school like Abe-
lard. It might lead to great things. I feel I am only on the thresh-
old of life the rest has been preparation I mean as far as
work is concerned. Quite lately I have somehow found myself
I have poise and sanity j I no longer have the feeling of
powers unrealized within me, which used to be a perpetual tor-
ture. I don't care what the authorities do to me, they can't stop
me long. Before, I have felt either wicked or passively resigned
now I feel fully active and contented with my activity I
have no inward discords any more and nothing ever really
troubles me.
I realize that as soon as the worst of the stress is over I shall
want some more intellectual occupation. But I see room for end-
less work on political theory. And it will have the advantage
that it will involve seeing all sorts of people and getting to know
all sorts of human facts it won't leave half of me unsatisfied
as abstract work does. The only doubt is whether I shan't some
day be suddenly overwhelmed by the passion for the things that
are eternal and perfect, like mathematics. Even the most ab-
stract political theory is terribly mundane and temporary. But
that must be left to the future.
It is very sad seeing you so seldom. I feel as if we should lose
intimacy and get out of the way of speaking of personal things
it would be a great loss if that happened. I know extraordi-
narily little of your inner life now-a-days, and I wish I knew
more, but I don't know how to elicit it. My own existence has
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
become so objective that I hardly have an inner life any more
for the present but I should have if I had leisure.
My Dearest, I am full of love to you visions are always in
my mind of happy days after the war, when we shall get back to
poetry and beauty and summer woods, and the vision of things
outside this earth. But the war keeps one tied to earth. And
sometimes I wonder if we have both grown so impersonal that it
has become difficult to give oneself to personal love it always
was difficult for you. It is a great loss if it is so. I hope it isn't.
Do write a full letter when you can, and tell me something of
your inward life.
From the Trinity College Council Trinity College
Cambridge
11 July 1916
Dear Russell:
It is my duty to inform you that the following resolution was
unanimously passed by the College Council today:
"That, since Mr. Russell has been convicted under the De-
fence of the Realm Act, and the conviction has been affirmed
on appeal, he be removed from his Lectureship in the
College."
Yours sincerely -,
H. McLEOD INNES
From Samuel Alexander* 24, Brunswick Road
Withington
M/C
16.7.16
Dear Russell:
I feel indignant about the action of Trinity, which disgraces
them (as well as making them ridiculous). I don't share your
* The distinguished philosopher.
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views about War (as I think you may know) and I can't well
judge the effect of your action though I have hated the bun-
gling and injustice of the treatment of Conscientious Objectors.
But sensible people, even if they don't know and admire you
personally, respect honest convictions; and Trinity's action is.
both intolerant, and impertinent. It matters to all of us at Uni-
versities (and elsewhere) more perhaps than it matters to you.
Tours sincerely ,
S. ALEXANDER
I have only the Trinity address, and must send that way.
From my brother Frank Telegraph House
Chichester
16 July 1916
My dear Bertie;
I have seen the Trinity announcement in the paper, and
whatever you may say, I very much regret it. No doubt these
stuffy old dons were very uncongenial to you, and were also un-
friendly on account of your views, but still, I always thought
you well suited to an academic life, and a personality of great
value to the young in stirring their ideas. I think as time
goes on you will miss it more than you realize and probably
regret it.
I can't attempt to shape your career for you you must be
the only guide and the only judge of your own actions but
don't finally cut yourself off too rashly and above all beware of
popular audiences. The average [man] is such a fool that any
able man who can talk can sway him for a time. What the
world wants of first class intellects like yours is not action
for which the ordinary politician or demagogue is good enough
but thought, a much more rare quality. Think out our prob-
lems, embody the result in writing, and let it slowly percolate
through the teachers of the next generation. And don't suppose
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
the people you meet are as earnest, as deep or as sincere as you
are.
As mere experience and learning about human beings what
you are doing now may have its value, but you see what I am
trying to say is that you are -wasting yourself. You are not mak-
ing the best use for the world of your talents. As soon as you
come to see that you will change your activities.
Well I don't preach to you often, because as a rule you
don't need it, but at the moment I think you are a little (or
rather, a great deal) carried away.
It's a long time to Feb. 1 why not go to America sooner?
they ought to be glad to get rid of you!
Come and see us when you are in London and try and spend a
few placid days here with us in August.
Tours affectionately,
F
Burrows Hill
Gomshall
Surrey
23 July 19 16
Dear Russell:
I have only today received an account of the College Coun-
cil's action and a report of your trial before the Mayor.
I must tell you that I think your case was as unanswerable as
it was unanswered, and the decision, so far as I can see, was
utterly unwarranted by the evidence.
I was glad you said you could respect your friends who are
not pacifists in quite the same sense that you are. What you
think of me I don't know: but I have admired the fight you have
put up.
As for the College Council, you know too much to confuse it
with the College. The older dons, last time I saw them, seemed
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to me to be in various stages of insanity. Something will have to
be done when the younger ones come back. I am sure there
would have been a majority of the whole body against the
Council, if it had come before a full College meeting.
I feel very bitterly that the Council has disgraced us. When
you and Moore came back/ I was delighted that we had recov-
ered you both, and now we have lost one of you, it is a real grief
and humiliation.
Tours sincerely,
F. M. CORNFORD f
To G. Lowes Dickinson 34 Russell Chambers
Bury Street, W.C.
Sunday [1916]
Dear Goldie:
Thank you very much for your letter in the Nation^ which I
read with gratitude. One has a little the sense of reading one's
own obituaries, a thing I have always wished to be able to do!
The Whiteheads are very decent about this. I think McT. ||
and Lawrence were the prime movers. I have been sold up, but
owing to kind friends I have lost nothing. I don't know who
they are whoever they are, I am most grateful and touched.
Clifford Allen is to be taken tomorrow. Casement# is to be
shot. I am ashamed to be at large.
Yours ever y
B.R.
* Moore had been invited back from Edinburgh where he had had a post.
f Cornford was a Fellow of Trinity, and a distinguished writer on ancient philos-
ophy. His wife was Frances Cornford the poet. His son was killed in the Spanish
Civil War. I was very fond of both him and his wife.
J Of July 29th, 1916.
I was able to in 1921. The allusion is to my being turned out of Trinity.
1 1 McTaggart.
# Sir Roger Casement, who first became known for his protests against atrocities
in the Congo, was an Irish rebel who sided with the Germans. He was captured,
tried and executed.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
Finches
Aston Tirrold
22 Aug. 1916
Dear Bertie:
You will have realised how I feel about all this persecution.
Did you ever meet Constable a young economist who was
going to the bar at our house. He's a Major now and in writ-
ing to me from the front says "I was very glad to see that there
have been protests against the action of Trinity with regard to
Bertrand Russell. I must say that men I have met out here
nearly all agree with me that the College has merely stultified
itself." . . .
Masefield writing up the Dardanelles has been allowed to
see some official documents and so on. It is most disheartening
that literary men of standing should try to make a mere calam-
ity "epic" for American consumption.
Tours fraternally,
CHARLES PERCY SANGER
6, Selwyn Gardens
Cambridge
S.ix.16
Dear Russell:
I am amazed and grieved to see how you are being badgered
and hounded about. It is most outrageous, and what the motive
for it all may be I am quite at a loss to surmise. Are they afraid
that you will sneak off to America or is there some rabid fanatic
trying to persuade them that you are what the McTaggarts call
us pro-Germans? I see you are announced to lecture in Man-
chester: is there no danger of your lectures being prohibited?
Well you have just got to compose yourself with dignity and
patience and there will be voices in your favour to speak out
before long.
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Since I saw you I have been trying to draw up a statement to
justify your action and to serve as a separate preamble to ac-
company an invitation to protest against the action of the Col-
lege Council to be sent to all the fellows of the College (exclu-
sive of the Council)/ . . .
Tours ever,
JAMES WARD
The writer of the following letter was killed not long after-
wards. I never met him, but I came to know his fiancee, Doro-
thy Mackenzie, who, on the news of his death, became blind for
three weeks.
9th Batt. Oxfordshire &
Buckinghamshire Light
Infantry
Bovington Camp
Wareham
Dorset
Sunday, Sept. 3, 1916
Dear Mr. Russell:
Seeing the new scene that has been added to this amazing
farce of which you are the unfortunate protagonist, I could not
help writing to you. Of course you know that such sane men as
still live, or have kept their sanity, have nothing but admiration
for you, and therefore you may cry that this note is impertinent.
Literally, I suppose it is; but not to me.
I cannot resist the joy of communicating directly with one
whom I admired so much before the war, as the writer of the
clearest and finest philosophical English prose, and whom I ad-
mire so much more now when all the intellectuals, except, thank
god, Shaw, have lost the use of their reason.
* Nothing came of this.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
I think there may be some shade of excuse for this liberty at a
time when reason and thought are in danger and when you,
their ablest champion, are the victim of incompetence and deri-
sion: at such a time those who love Justice should speak.
I know you must have many friends in the army, and are
aware that it, too, contains men of good-will, though it is
through it and its domination that England finds herself as she
is; yet one more assurance of complete understanding and sym-
pathy may not annoy you.
Were I back in the Ranks again and I wish I were I
could have picked half-a-dozen men of our platoon to have
signed with me: here, it is not so.
Thank you, then, for all you are and all you have written, for
"A Free Man's Worship" and Justice in War Time and The
Policy of the Entente and many others; and I hope that I (and
you, of course, for we don't know what they mayn't do to you)
may live to see you.
Tours sincerely,
A. GRAEME WEST
2nd Lieut.
To Miles Malleson 52, St. James's Court
Buckingham Gate, S.W.
[19.16]
My dear Sir:
I think that a small minority of the C.O.'s are sincerely hon-
est men but I believe that unless the path of the C.O. is made
difficult it will supply a stampede track for every variety of
shirker. Naturally a lot of the work of control falls on the hands
of clumsy and rough minded men. I really don't feel very much
sympathy with these "martyrs." I don't feel so sure as you do
that all C.O.'s base the objection on love rather than hate. I have
never heard either Cannan or Norman speak lovingly of any
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human being. Their normal attitude has always been one of op-
position to anything. Enthusiasm makes them liverish. And
the Labour Leader group I believe to be thoroughly dishonest,
Ramsey MacDonald, I mean, Morel and the editor. I may be
wrong but that is my slow and simple conviction.
Very sincerely yours,
H. G. WELLS
My statement concerning my meeting with General Cockerill
on September 5th, 1916:
I called at the War Office with Sir Francis Younghusband by
appointment at 3:15 to see General Cockerill. He had beside
him a report of my speeches in S. Wales and drew special atten-
tion to a sentence in a speech I made at Cardiff saying there was
no good reason why this war should continue another day. He
said that such a statement made to miners or munition workers
was calculated to diminish their ardour. He said also that I was
encouraging men to refuse to fight for their country. He said he
would withdraw the order forbidding me to enter prohibited
areas if I would abandon political propaganda and return to
mathematics. I said I could not conscientiously give such an
undertaking.
He said:
"You and I probably regard conscience differently. I regard it
as a still small voice, but when it becomes blatant and strident I
suspect it of no longer being a conscience."
I replied:
"You do not apply this principle to those who write and speak
in favour of the war; you do not consider that if they hold their
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
opinions in secret they are conscientious men, but if they give
utterance to them in the Press or on the platform they are mere
propagandists. There seems some lack of justice in this differ-
entiation."
He remained silent a long while and then replied:
"Yes, that is true. But," he said, "you have said your say, can
you not rest content with having said it and return to those
other pursuits in which" so he was pleased to add "you
have achieved so much distinction? Do you not think there is
some lack of a sense of humour in going on reiterating the same
thing?"
I failed to reply that I had observed this lack if it were
one in The Times, the Morning Post and other patriotic or-
gans, which appeared to me to be somewhat addicted to reitera-
tion, and that if it would not serve any purpose to repeat myself
I failed to see why he was so anxious to prevent me from doing
so. But what I did say was that new issues are constantly
arising and I could not barter away my right to speak on such
issues. I said:
"I appeal to you as a man, would you not feel less respect for
me if I agreed to this bargain which you propose?"
After a long hesitation he replied:
"No, I should respect you more; I should think better of your
sense of humour if you realized the uselessness of saying the
same thing over and over again."
I told him that I was thinking of delivering lectures on the
general principles of politics in Glasgow, Edinburgh and New-
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castle. He asked whether these would involve the propaganda
he objected to. I said no, not directly, but they would state the
general principles out of which the propaganda has grown, and
no doubt men with sufficient logical acumen would be able to
draw inferences. He then gave it to be understood that such lec-
tures could not be permitted. He wound up with an earnest ap-
peal to me not to make the task of the soldiers more difficult
when they were engaged in a life and death struggle.
I told him that he flattered me in supposing my influence
sufficient to have any such result, but that I could not possibly
cease my propaganda as the result of a threat and that if he had
wished his appeal to have weight he ought not to have accom-
panied it by a threat. I said I was most sincerely sorry to be
compelled to do anything which the authorities considered em-
barrassing, but that I had no choice in the matter.
We parted with mutual respect, and on my side at least,
without the faintest feeling of hostility. Nevertheless it was per-
fectly clear that he meant to proceed to extremities if I did not
abandon political propaganda.
To Ottoline Morrell Monday night
[September 19 16]
My Darling:
There seems a good chance that the authorities will relent
towards me I am half sorry! I shall soon have come to the
end of the readjustment with Mrs. E. [Mrs. T. S. Eliot] I think
it will all be all right, on a better basis. As soon as it is settled, I
will come to Garsington. I long to come.
I have been realizing various things during this time. It is
odd how one finds out what one really wants, and how very
selfish it always is. What I want permanently not con-
sciously, but deep down is stimulus, the sort of thing that
keeps my brain active and exuberant. I suppose that is what
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
makes me a vampire. I get a stimulus most from the instinctive
feeling of success. Failure makes me collapse. Odd things give
me a sense of failure for instance, the way the C.Os. all take
alternative service, except a handful. Wittgenstein's criticism
gave me a sense of failure. The real trouble between you and me
has always been that you gave me a sense of failure at first,
because you were not happy; then, in other ways. To be really
happy with you, not only momentarily, I should have to lose
that sense of failure. I had a sense of success with Mrs. E. be-
cause I achieved what I meant to achieve (which was not so
very difficult) , but now I have lost that, not by your fault in the
least. The sense of success helps my work: when I lose it, my
writing grows dull and lifeless. I often feel success quite apart
from happiness: it depends upon what one puts one's will into.
Instinctively, I turn to things in which success is possible, just
for the stimulus.
I have always cared for you in yourself, and not as a stimulus
or for any self-centred reason; but when I have felt that through
caring for you and feeling unsuccessful I have lost energy, it
has produced a sort of instinctive resentment. That has been at
the bottom of everything and now that I have at last got to
the bottom of it, it won't be a trouble any longer. But unless I
can cease to have a sense of failure with you, I am bound to go
on looking for stimulus elsewhere from time to time. That
would only cease if I ceased to care about work I am sure all
this is the exact truth.
I would set my will in a different direction as regards you, if I
knew of any direction in which I could succeed. But I don't
think it can be done in that way.
The rare moments of mystic insight that I have had have
been when I was free from the will to succeed. But they have
brought a new kind of success, which I have at once noticed and
wanted, and so my will has drifted back into the old ways. And
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I don't believe I should do anything worth doing without that
sort of will. It is very tangled.
To Constance Malleson ( Colette ) Gordon Square
September 29, 1916
You are already where I have struggled to be, and without
the weariness of long effort. I have hated many people in the
past. The language of hate still comes to me easily, but I don't
really hate anyone now. It is defeat that makes one hate people
and now I have no sense of defeat anywhere. No one need
ever be defeated it rests with oneself to make oneself invinci-
ble. Quite lately I have had a sense of freedom I never had be-
fore ... I don't like the spirit of socialism I think freedom
is the basis of everything.
"The keys to an endless peace"
I am not so great as that, really not I know where peace
is I have seen it, and felt it at times but I can still imagine
misfortunes that would rob me of peace. But there is a world of
peace, and one can live in it and yet be active still over all that is
bad in the world. Do you know how sometimes all the barriers
of personality fall away, and one is free for all the world to come
in the stars and the night and the wind, and all the passions
and hopes of men, and all the slow centuries of growth and
even the cold abysses of space grow friendly "JE il naufragar
rn'e dolce in questo mare" And from that moment some quality
of ultimate peace enters into all one feels even when one feels
most passionately. I felt it the other night by the river I
thought you were going to withdraw yourself I felt that if
you did I should lose the most wonderful thing that had ever
come to me and yet an ultimate fundamental peace remained
if it hadn't, I believe I should have lost you then. I cannot
bear the littleness and enclosing walls of purely personal things
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
I want to live always open to the world, I want personal love
to be like a beacon fire lighting up the darkness, not a timid
refuge from the cold as it is very often.
London under the stars is strangely moving. The momentari-
ness of the separate lives seems so strange
In some way I can't put into words, I feel that some of our
thoughts and feelings are just of the moment, but others are
part of the eternal world, like the stars even if their actual
existence is passing, something some spirit or essence
seems to last on, to be part of the real history of the universe,
not only of the separate person. Somehow, that is how I want to
live, so that as much of life as possible may have that quality of
eternity. I can't explain what I mean you will have to know
of course I don't succeed in living that way but that is
"the shining key to peace."
Oh, I am happy, happy, happy
B.
Gordon Square
October 23, 1916
I have meant to tell you many things about my life, and every
time the moment has conquered me. I am strangely unhappy
because the pattern of my life is complicated, because my na-
ture is hopelessly complicated; a mass of contradictory im-
pulses; and out of all this, to my intense sorrow, pain to you
must grow. The centre of me is always and eternally a terrible
pain a curious wild pain a searching for something be-
yond what the world contains, something transfigured and infi-
nite the beatific vision God I do not find it, I do not
think it is to be found but the love of it is my life it's like
passionate love for a ghost. At times it fills me with rage, at
times with wild despair, it is the source of gentleness and cru-
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elty and work, it fills every passion that I have it is the actual
spring of life within me.
I can't explain it or make it seem anything but foolishness
but whether foolish or not, it is the source of whatever is any
good in me. I have known others who had it Conrad espe-
cially but it is rare it sets one oddly apart and gives a
sense of great isolation it makes people's gospels often seem
thin. At most times, now, I am not conscious of it, only when I
am strongly stirred, either happily or unhappily. I seek escape
from it, though I don't believe I ought to. In that moment with
you by the river I felt it most intensely.
"Windows always open to the world" I told you once, but
through one's windows one sees not only the joy and beauty of
the world, but also its pain and cruelty and ugliness, and the
one is as well worth seeing as the other, and one must look into
hell before one has any right to speak of heaven.
B.
Wednesday night
Dec. 27, 1916
Dear Mr. Russell:
To-night here on the Somme I have just finished your Princi-
ples of Social Reconstruction which I found waiting for me
when I came out of the line. I had seen a couple of Reviews of it,
one in the Nation^ one in Land and Water and from the praise
of the former and the thinly veiled contempt of the latter I au-
gured a good book. It encouraged me all the more as the state of
opinion in England seems to fall to lower and lower depths of
undignified hatred. It is only on account of such thoughts as
yours, on account of the existence of men and women like your-
self that it seems worth while surviving the war if one
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
should haply survive. Outside the small circle of that cool light
I can discern nothing but a scorching desert.
Do not fear though that the life of the spirit is dying in us,
nor that hope or energy will be spent; to some few of us at any
rate the hope of helping to found some "city of God" carries us
away from these present horrors and beyond the graver
intolerance of thought as we see it in our papers. We shall not
faint and the energy and endurance we have used here on an
odious task we shall be able to redouble in the creative work
that peace will bring to do. We are too young to be permanently
damaged in body or spirit, even by these sufferings.
Rather what we feared until your book came was that we
would find no one left in England who would build with us.
Remember, then, that we are to be relied on to do twice as much
afterwards as we have done during the war, and after reading
your book that determination grew intenser than ever; it is for
you that we would wish to live on.
I have written to you before and should perhaps apologise for
writing again, but that seems to me rather absurd: you cannot
mind knowing that you are understood and admired and that
those exist who would be glad to work with you.
Yours sincerely,
A. GRAEME WEST. 2nd Lt.
6th Oxford & Bucks. L.I.
B.E.F.
From the Press:
SECOND LIEUTENANT ARTHUR GRAEME WEST, Oxford and
Bucks Light Infantry, whose death is officially announced to-
day, was the eldest son of Arthur Birt West, 4 Holly Terrace,
Highgate. He fell on April 3 [1917], aged 25.
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To Colette Guildf ord
December 28, 1916
How can love blossom among explosions and falling Zep-
pelins and all the surroundings of our love? It has to grow
jagged and painful before it can live in such a world. I long for
it to be otherwise but soft things die in this horror, and our
love has to have pain for its life blood.
I hate the world and almost all the people in it. I hate the
Labour Congress and the journalists who send men to be
slaughtered, and the fathers who feel a smug pride when their
sons are killed, and even the pacifists who keep saying human
nature is essentially good, in spite of all the daily proofs to the
contrary. I hate the planet and the human race I am ashamed
to belong to such a species And what is the good of me in
that mood?
B.
77, Lady Margaret Road
Highgate. N.W.5
June 5th. [1917]
Dear Mr. Russel:
I am glad you sent Graeme West's letters to the Cambridge
Magazine, for I am very sure he speaks for a great many, some
of whom will survive.
When I had read your Principles of Social Reconstruction,
being a young woman instead of a young man, I had the joy of
being able to come and hear you speak at the Nursery of the
Fabian Society. And I dared to say you were too gloomy, and
that the world was not so spoilt as you thought. It was because
West was in my thoughts that I was able to do that, and kindly
you smiled at the optimism of youth, but the sadness of your
smiling set me fearing.
Now I know that you were right and I was wrong. But I
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
assure you Mr. Russel, that we women want to build, and we
unhappily do survive. And I can end my letter as he ended his
and say very truly "it is for you that we would wish to live on."
It is very difficult to know what to do. I am an elementary
teacher, and every class in the school but mine is disciplined by
a military method. I have to work as it were by stealth, disguis-
ing my ideas as much as possible. Children, as you are aware,
do not develop themselves, in our elementary schools. Your
chapter on education encouraged me more than anything I have
read or heard since I started teaching. I thank you for that en-
couragement. It is most sad to teach in these days; underpaid,
overworked, the man I loved most killed for a cause in which he
no longer believed, out of sympathy with most of my friends
and relations, I find strength and comfort in you through your
book. I feel indeed that you understand.
DOROTHY MACKENZIE
Twelve
Elm Park Gardens
Chelsea. S.W.
Jan. 8th, 17
Dear Bertie:
I am awfully sorry, but you do not seem to appreciate my
point.
I don't want my ideas propagated at present either under my
name or anybody else's that is to say, as far as they are at
present on paper. The result will be an incomplete misleading
exposition which will inevitably queer the pitch for the final ex-
position when I want to put it out.
My ideas and methods grow in a different way to yours and
the period of incubation is long and the result attains its intelli-
gible form in the final stage, I do not want you to have my
notes which in chapters are lucid, to precipitate them into what
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I should consider as a series of half-truths. I have worked at
these ideas off and on for all my life, and should be left quite
bare on one side of my speculative existence if I handed them
over to some one else to elaborate. Now that I begin to see day-
light, I do not feel justified or necessitated by any view of scien-
tific advantage in so doing.
I am sorry that you do not feel able to get to work except by
the help of these notes but I am sure that you must be mis-
taken in this, and that there must be the whole of the remaining
field of thought for you to get to work on though naturally it
would be easier for you to get into harness with some formed
notes to go on. But my reasons are conclusive. I will send the
work round to you naturally, when I have got it into the form
which expresses my ideas.
Tours affectly,
ALFRED N. WHITEHEAD
Before the war started, Whitehead had made some notes on
our knowledge of the external world and I had written a book
on this subject in which I made use with due acknowledgement
of ideas that Whitehead had passed on to me. The above letter
shows that this had vexed him. In fact, it put an end to our
collaboration.
To Lady Emily Lutyens 57, Gordon Square
W.C. (1)
21.111.17
Dear Lady Emily:
I have shortened my article by seven lines, which was what
seemed needed six lines close to the end and one in the mid-
dle of the last column.
Is it really necessary to say that I am "heir-presumptive to the
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
present Earl Russell"? I cannot see that my brother's having no
children makes my opinions more worthy of respect.
I have corrected a few inaccuracies in the biography.
"Critical detachment" is hardly my attitude to the war. My
attitude is one of intense and passionate protest I consider
it a horror, an infamy, an overwhelming and unmitigated
disaster, making the whole of life ghastly.
Yours very sincerely,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
To and from Colette Gordon Square
March 27, 1917
I cannot express a thousandth part of what is in my heart
our day in the country was so marvellous. All through Sunday
it grew and grew, and at night it seemed to pass beyond the
bounds of human things. I feel no longer all alone in the world.
Your love brings warmth into all the recesses of my being. You
used to speak of a wall of separation between us. That no longer
exists. The winter is ending, we shall have sunshine and the
song of birds, and wild flowers, primroses, bluebells, and then
the scent of the may. We will keep joy alive in us. You are
strong and brave and free, and filled with passion and love
the very substance of all my dreams come to life.
Gordon Square
September 23, 1917
The whole region in my mind where you lived, seems burnt
out.
There is nothing for us both but to try and forget each other.
Goodbye
B.
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Mecklenburgh Square
September 26, 1917
I thought, until last night, that our love would grow and
grow until it was strong as loneliness itself.
I have gazed down Eternity with you. I have held reins of
glory in my two hands Now, though I will still believe in the
beauty of eternal things, they will not be for me. You will put
the crown on your work. You will stand on the heights of im-
personal greatness. I worship you, but our souls are strangers
I pray that I may soon be worn out and this torture ended.
C.
Gordon Square
October 25, 1917
I have known real happiness with you If I could live by
my creed, I should know it still. I feel imprisoned in egotism
weary of effort, too tired to break through into love.
How can I bridge the gulf?
B.
From The Tribunal, Thursday, January 3rd, 1918
THE GERMAN PEACE OFFER
by Bertrand Russell
The more we hear about the Bolsheviks, the more the kgend of
our patriotic press becomes exploded. We were told that they
were incompetent, visionary and corrupt, that they must fall
shortly, that the mass of Russians were against them, and that
they dared not permit the Constituent Assembly to meet. All
these statements have turned out completely false, as anyone
may see by reading the very interesting despatch from Arthur
Ransome in the Daily News of December 31st.
Lenin, whom we have been invited to regard as a German
Jew, is really a Russian aristocrat who has suffered many years
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
of persecution for his opinions. The social revolutionaries who
were represented as enemies of the Bolsheviks have formed a
connection with them. The Constituent Assembly is to meet as
soon as half its members have reached Petrograd, and very
nearly half have already arrived. All charges of German money
remain entirely unsupported by one thread of evidence.
The most noteworthy and astonishing triumph of the Bol-
sheviks is in their negotiations with the Germans. In a military
sense Russia is defenceless, and we all supposed it a proof that
they were mere visionaries when they started negotiations by
insisting upon not surrendering any Russian territory to the
Germans. We were told that the Germans would infallibly in-
sist upon annexing the Baltic Provinces and establishing a
suzerainty over Poland. So far from this being the case, the
German and Austrian Governments have officially announced
that they are prepared to conclude a Peace on the Russian basis
of no annexations and no indemnities, provided that it is a gen-
eral Peace, and they have invited the Western Powers to agree
to these terms.
This action has placed the Governments of the Western
Powers in a most cruel dilemma. If they refuse the German
offer, they are unmasked before the world and before their own
Labour and Socialist Parties: they make it clear to all that they
are continuing the war for purposes of territorial aggrandise-
ment. If they accept the offer, they afford a triumph to the hated
Bolsheviks and an object lesson to democratic revolutionaries
everywhere as to the way to treat with capitalists, Imperialists
and war-mongers. They know that from the patriotic point of
view they cannot hope for a better peace by continuing the war,
but from the point of view of preventing liberty and universal
peace, there is something to be hoped from continuation. It is
known that unless peace comes soon there will be starvation
throughout Europe. Mothers will be maddened by the spectacle
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of their children dying. Men will fight each other for possession
of the bare necessaries of life. Under such conditions the same
constructive effort required for a successful revolution will be
impossible. The American Garrison which will by that time be
occupying England and France, whether or not they will prove
efficient against the Germans, will no doubt be capable of intim-
idating strikers, an occupation to which the American Army is
accustomed when at home. I do not say that these thoughts are
in the mind of the Government. All the evidence tends to show
that there are no thoughts whatever in their mind, and that they
live from hand to mouth consoling themselves with ignorance
and sentimental twaddle. I say only that if they were capable of
thought, it would be along such lines as I have suggested that
they would have to attempt to justify a refusal to make Peace on
the basis of the German offer, if indeed they do decide to refuse.
Some democrats and Socialists are perhaps not unwilling
that the war should continue, since it is clear that if it does it
must lead to universal revolution. I think it is true that this con-
sequence must follow, but I do not think that we ought on that
account to acquiesce in the refusal to negotiate should that be
the decision at which our Governments arrive. The kind of rev-
olution with which we shall in that case be threatened will be
far too serious and terrible to be a source of good. It would be a
revolution full of violence, hatred and bloodshed, driven by
hunger, terror and suspicion, a revolution in which all that is
best in Western civilisation is bound to perish. It is this
prospect that our rulers ought to be facing. It is this risk that
they run for such paltry objects as the annexation of African
Colonies and Mesopotamia. Labour's war aims accepted almost
unanimously on December 28th are on the whole very sane, and
might easily form the basis for the immediate initiation of nego-
tiations. Labour at the moment has enormous power. Is it too
much to hope that it will use this power to compel some glim-
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
mer of sanity on the part of the blinded and maddened rulers of
the Western Powers? Labour holds the key. It can if it chooses
secure a just and lasting peace within a month, but if this op-
portunity is allowed to pass by, all that we hold dear will be
swallowed up in universal ruin.
The above article was that for which I was sentenced to
prison.
To Professor Gilbert Murray 57, Gordon Square
London, W.C.I
15th February 1918
My dear Gilbert:
I am very much touched by the kindness of your letter. It
really is good of you to act when our views are so different. Of
course if I had known the blaze of publicity that was going to be
directed upon that one sentence of the Tribunal, I should have
phrased it very much more carefully, in such a way as to pre-
vent misunderstanding by a public not used to the tone of exas-
perated and pugnacious pacifists. Unless the Government had
prosecuted, no-one but pacifists would ever have seen the sen-
tence. Certainly it is a thousand to one that no American would
ever have seen it. I wrote for the Tribunal once a week for a
year, generally in great haste in the middle of other work. In the
course of this time it was almost unavoidable that I should emit
at least one careless sentence careless that is as to form, for
as regards the matter I adhere to it.
So far as I can discover, the immediate cause of the prosecu-
tion was the fact that I had ceased to write these articles, or
indeed to take any part in pacifist work beyond attending an
occasional Committee. I made up my mind to this course last
autumn, but it was impossible to carry it out instantly without
inconvenience to colleagues. I therefore informed the N.C.F.
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that I would cease to be their Acting Chairman at the New
Year. Accordingly, the last article I wrote for the Tribunal ap-
peared on January 10, a week after the article for which I am
prosecuted. It seems that the authorities realised that if they
wished to punish me they must act at once, as I should not be
committing any further crimes. All my plans were made for go-
ing back entirely to writing and philosophical lecturing, but
whether I shall now be able to resume these plans when I come
out of prison is of course doubtful. I do not much dislike the
prospect of prison, provided I aipi allowed plenty of books to
read. I think the freedom from responsibility will be rather rest-
ful. I cannot imagine anything that there could be to do for me,
unless the American Embassy were to take the view that the
matter is too trumpery to be worth a prosecution, but I cannot
say that I have any great desire to see the prosecution quashed.
I think those of us who live in luxury on money which is se-
cured to us by the Criminal Law ought to have some idea of the
mechanism by which our happiness is secured, and for this rea-
son I shall be glad to know the inside of a prison.
With my very warmest thanks,
Tours ever affectionately,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
57 Gordon Square W.C.I
27.3.18
Dear Gilbert:
You have been so very kind that I feel I ought to write to you
in regard to what is being done in my case. Assuming that the
sentence is confirmed, it seems it will be the thing to ask for 1st
Division. This will need preparing soon, as things move slowly.
Hirst is willing to approach Morley, Loreburn, Buckmaster, &
Lansdowne, asking them to write to Cave. It seems to me that
Asquith & Grey might be willing to; also a certain number of
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
un-political learned men. If you were willing, you could do this
better than any one else. If private representations fail (as they
probably will) letters to the Press will be necessary. All this
will have to be done quickly if it is to be effective.
I saw E. D. Morel yesterday for the first time since he came
out, & was impressed by the seriousness of a six months' sen-
tence. His hair is completely white (there was hardly a tinge of
white before) when he first came out, he collapsed com-
pletely, physically & mentally, largely as the result of insuffi-
cient food. He says one only gets three quarters of an hour for
reading in the whole day the rest of the time is spent on
prison work etc. It seems highly probable that if the sentence is
not mitigated my mind will not remain as competent as it has
been. I should regret this, as I still have a lot of philosophy that
I wish to do.
Trs ever,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
Alexandria
12-2-18
Dear Russell,
In the middle of a six course dinner at the Club last night I
was told that you were in prison. This is to send you my love. I
suppose they will let you have it when you come out.
Here all is comfort and calm. One will become very queer
indeed if it, and the war, last much longer.
Yours fraternally,
E. M. FORSTER
London April 10th. 18
Dear Mr. Russell:
I am only writing a little note to tell you how splendid I think
your stand has been. Being an ex convict, I understand a little at
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what cost you have been true. It is inspiring to us who are
younger men and who see so many of our own friends succumb-
ing to cynical indifference or academic preoccupation to know
that there is at least one of the Intellectuals of Europe who have
not allowed the life of the mind to kill the life of the spirit. . . .
This is rather ineffective, but well,
Good luck,
Yours very sincerely ,
LANCELOT HOGBEN
From G. Lowes Dickinson 1 1 Edwardes Square
W.S.Ap. 19, [1918]
Dear Bertie:
I wish I could have seen you, but I haven't been able to fit it
in, and I go away today for the rest of April. I hope to be there
on May 1st. It is difficult to have any hope. I suppose the best
thing that could happen now would be for you to get first-class
imprisonment. If they fine you, you will I suppose be called up
at once, and have to go through the mill as a C.O. The only
chance is that the brute [Lord] Derby has gone from the War
Office and I understand that Milner is more sympathetic to the
C.Os. We are governed by men as base as they are incompetent,
and the country, maddened by fear and hate, continues to will it
so. I blush all over to be English, sometimes. Yet one knows
that the individual Englishman is a decent, kindly well-
meaning chap. Its the pack, and its leaders, that are so vile. But
what use in words? One can alter nothing; and human speech
seems to have lost all meaning. To change the subject, I am
reading Aristotle on the Soul. Its refreshing to be back at a time
when the questions were being examined freshly by first-class
minds. Aristotle's method of approach might be yours. One sees
however, I think, that the conception of "substance" has already
fixed thought in a certain unconscious rut. In my old age, owing
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
I suppose to you and others, I find my mind more disencum-
bered and active than it was in youth. But the packs of wolves
will not be satisfied until they have killed off every free mind
and brave soul. That's the secret object of the war. So long.
G.L.D.
58 Oakley Street
Chelsea, S.W.3
28th April 1918
Dear Bertie:
Although we haven't met much lately, you are constantly in
my thoughts. Its difficult to say what one feels you have al-
ways been so very much to me and I can't bear the thought that
you may go to prison, though I know that your fortitude and
self control will bring you safely through the ordeal. Its a mad
world a nightmare. I sometimes think I shall wake up and
find that it was a dream after all. I hope that reality will prove to
be better than appearance if there is anything besides this
absurd world of blood and explosives.
But if things can be improved, it is you and those like you
who will do it and the younger men if any of them survive
will look to you.
Tours fraternally,
C. P. SANGER
P.S. Daphne* directs me to send her love.
From G. B. Shaw Ayot, St Lawrence
Welwyn, Herts.
18th March 1918
Dear Miss Mackenzie;
I am naturally a good deal concerned about Russell; but I can
do nothing: he must help himself, and that vigorously, if he is
* His daughter.
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to win his appeal. At his trial there seems to have been no ade-
quate defence: he, or his counsel, should have talked for a week
and clamored to the heavens against tyranny and injustice and
destruction of popular rights and deuce knows what else in
order to make the authorities as sorry as possible that they had
stirred up these questions, even if they had obtained the sen-
tence all the same. Russell is not an imbecile who cannot defend
himself. He is not a poor man who cannot afford a strong bar.
He is practically a nobleman with a tremendous family record
on the Whig side as a hereditary defender of popular liberties.
Yet the impression left on the public is that he has been dis-
posed of in ten minutes like an ordinary pickpocket. That must
be to some extent the fault of himself and his friends. It seems
like a repetition of the monstrous mistake of Morel's plea of
guilty, which must have been made under silly advice under the
impression that guilt is a question of fact, and not of the ethical
character of the action in question.
The only matter that is really in doubt is whether Russell
should conduct his own case or employ counsel. In his place I
should unhesitatingly do the job myself. A barrister will put up
some superficially ingenious plea which will give him a good
professional chance of shewing off before the Court of Appeal,
one which will not compromise him by any suspicion of sympa-
thy with RusselPs views, and the failure of which will be a fore-
gone conclusion. Russell will have no preoccupations of that
sort; and he can, as an amateur, take liberties with court proce-
dure which a barrister cannot. He is accustomed to public
speaking, and therefore not under the necessity of getting an-
other man to speak for him simply through nervousness and
inexperience.
His case is not by any means a weak one. To begin with, he
can point out that he is being prosecuted for a hypothetical
prophecy occupying half a dozen lines in an article containing
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
several positive statements which have since turned out to be
entirely wrong and might even have been dangerously mislead-
ing. He was wrong about the Bolsheviks, about the Constituent
Assembly, about the German and Austrian Governments. Yet
no exception is taken to these errors.
But when he got on to the solider ground taken by Lord
Lansdowne, and argued that a continuation of the war must
lead inevitably to starvation throughout Europe, a ridiculous
pretext is found for attacking him. The war is full of ironies:
the belligerents claiming to be the defenders of liberties which
they have all been engaged at one time or another in vigorously
suppressing. The Germans forget their oppression of Prussian
Poland, and denounce England as the oppressor of Ireland,
Egypt and India. The French forget Tonquin, Morocco, Alge-
ria and Tunisia, and the Bonapartist regime, and revile the Ger-
mans as conquerors and annexationists. Italy forgets Abyssinia
and the Tripolitaine, and claims Dalmatia and part of the Aus-
trian Tyrol, whilst driving Austria from the Trentino on na-
tionalist grounds. Finally, America, which has been engaged in
conflicts with her own workers which in Colorado and some
other States have almost approached the proportions of a civil
war, assumes the mission of redeeming the German proletariat
from slavery. All these ironies have been pointed out again and
again in the bitterest terms by philosophic journalists, except
the last which Russell was the first to hint at very mildly in The
Tribunal. Immediately some foolish censor, knowing nothing
about irony or history or anything else except the rule of thumb
of his department, pounces on the allusion as something that
has not been passed before, and therefore must be challenged.
But the main point is that if Russell, in spite of his social and
academic position, is to be savagely punished for writing about
the war as a Pacifist and a philosopher, the intimidation of the
Press will be carried thereby to a point in England which it has
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not yet attained in Germany or Austria; and if it be really an
advantage to be a free country, that advantage will go to Ger-
many. We are claiming the support of the world in this war
solely on the ground that we represent Liberal institutions, and
that our enemies represent despotic ones. The enemy retorts
that we are the most formidable and arbitary Empire on the face
of the earth; and there is so much to be said for this view in
consequence of our former conquests that American and Rus-
sian public opinion is sorely perplexed about us. Russell can
say, "If you like to persecute me for my Liberal opinions, perse-
cute away and be damned: I am not the first of my family to
suffer in that good cause; but if you have any regard for the
solidarity of the Alliance, you will take care to proclaim to
the world that England is still the place where a man can say
the thing he will &c. (peroration ad lib. ) ."
This is the best advice I can give in the matter as Russell's
friend.
Tours faithfully^
G. BERNARD SHAW
10 Adelphi Terrace W.C.2
29th April 1917 [1918]
Dear Bertrand Russell:
I have an uneasy feeling that you will take legal advice on
Wednesday, and go into prison for six months for the sake of
allowing your advocate to make a favourable impression on the
bench by advancing some ingenious defence, long since worn
out in the service of innumerable pickpockets, which they will
be able to dismiss (with a compliment to the bar) with owl-like
gravity.
I see nothing for it but to make a scene by refusing indig-
nantly to offer any defence at all of a statement that any man in
a free country has a perfect right to make, and declaring that as
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
you are not an unknown person, and your case will be reported
in every capital from San Francisco east to Tokyo, and will be
taken as the measure of England's notion of the liberty she pro-
fesses to be fighting for, you leave it to the good sense of the
bench to save the reputation of the country from the folly of its
discredited and panic stricken Government. Or words to that
effect. You will gain nothing by being considerate, and (unlike
a barrister) lose nothing by remembering that a cat may look at
a king, and, a fortiori, a philosopher at a judge.
ever,
G.B.S.
To my brother Frank Brixton
JuneS, 1918
Existence here is not disagreeable, but for the fact that one
can't see one's friends. The one fact does make it, to me, very
disagreeable but if I were devoid of affection, like many mid-
dle aged men, I should find nothing to dislike. One has no re-
sponsibilities, and infinite leisure. My time passes very fruit-
fully. In a normal day, I do four hours philosophical writing,
four hours philosophical reading, and four hours general read-
ing so you can understand my wanting a lot of books. I have
been reading Madame Roland's memoirs and have come to the
conclusion that she was a very over-rated woman: snobbish,
vain, sentimental, envious rather a German type. Her last
days before her execution were spent in chronicling petty social
snubs or triumphs of many years back. She was a democrat
chiefly from envy of the noblesse. Prisons in her day were more
cheerful than now: she says if she were not writing her mem-
oirs she would be painting flowers or playing an air. Pianos are
not provided in Brixton. On the other hand, one is not guillo-
tined on leaving, which is in some ways an advantage. Dur-
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ing my two hours' exercise I reflect upon all manner of things.
It is good to have a time of leisure for reflection and altogether it
is a godsend being here. But I don't want too much godsend!
I am quite happy and my mind is very active. I enjoy the
sense that the time is fruitful after giving out all these last
years, reading almost nothing and writing very little and hav-
ing no opportunity for anything civilized, it is a real delight to
get back to a civilized existence. But oh I shall be glad when it
is over! I have given up the bad habit of imagining the war may
be over some day. One must compare the time with that of the
Barbarian invasion. I feel like Appolinaris Sidonius The
best one could be would be to be like St. Augustine. For the next
1000 years people will look back to the time before 1914 as they
did in the Dark Ages to the time before the Gauls sacked Rome.
Queer animal, Man!
Tour loving brother,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
To Colette 5th July 1918
Beloved I do long for you I keep thinking of all the won-
derful things we will do together I think of what we will do
when we can go abroad after the war I long to go with you to
Spain: to see the great Cathedral of Burgos, the Velasquez in
Madrid the gloomy Escorial, from which madmen used to
spread ruin over the world in the days before madness was uni-
versal Seville in dancing sunlight, all orange groves and
fountains Granada, where the Moors lingered till Ferdinand
and Isabella drove them out Then we could cross the straits,
as the Moors did, into Morocco and come back by Naples
and Rome and Siena and Florence and Pisa Imagine the un-
speakable joy of it the riot of colour and beauty freedom
the sound of Italian bells the strange cries, rich, full-
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
throated, and melancholy with all the weight of the ages the
great masses of flowers, inconceivably bright men with all
the beauty of wild animals, very erect, with bright swiftly-
glancing eyes and to step out into the morning sunshine,
with blue sea and blue hills it is all there for us, some day. I
long for the madness of the South with you.
The other thing I long for with you which we can get
sooner is the Atlantic the Connemara coast driving
mist rain waves that moan on the rocks flocks of sea-
birds with wild notes that seem the very soul of the restless sad-
ness of the sea and gleams of sun, unreal, like glimpses into
another world and wild wild wind, free and strong and fierce
There, there is life and there, I feel, I could stand with
you and let our love commune with the western storm for the
same spirit is in both. My Colette, my Soul, I feel the breath of
greatness inspiring me through our love I want to put the
spirit of the Atlantic into words I must, / must, before I die,
find some way to say the essential thing that is in me, that I
have never said yet a thing that is not love or hate or pity or
scorn, but the very breath of life, fierce, and coming from far
away, bringing into human life the vastness and the fearful pas-
sionless force of non-human things.
10th August [1918]
If I had been in Gladstone's place I would never have let
Gordon go to Khartoum, but having let him go I think it was
foolish not to back him up, because it was bound to incense peo-
ple. It started the movement of imperialism which led on to the
Boer War and thence to the present horror. It is useless in poli-
tics to apply a policy people won't understand. I remember a
talk we had in the woods once about what Allen would do if he
were Prime Minister, in which this came up.
The First War
I didn't realize that the film job you refused was the life of
Lloyd George. Certainly you had to refuse that. One might as
well have expected St. John to take employment under Pontius
Pilate as official biographer of Judas Iscariot.
What a queer work the Bible is. Abraham (who is a pattern
of all the virtues) twice over, when he is going abroad, says to
his wife: "Sarah my dear, you are a very good-looking person,
and the King is very likely to fall in love with you. If he thinks I
am your husband, he will put me to death, so as to be able to
marry you; so you shall travel as my sister, which you are, by
the way." On each occasion the King does fall in love with her,
takes her into his harem, and gets diseased in consequence, so
he returns her to Abraham. Meanwhile Abraham has a child by
the maidservant, whom Sarah dismisses into the wilderness
with the new-born infant, without Abraham objecting. Rum
tale.
And God has talks with Abraham at intervals, giving shrewd
worldly advice. Then later, when Moses begs to see God, God
allows him to see his "hind parts." There is a terrible fuss,
thunder and whirlwind and all the paraphernalia, and then all
God has to say is that he wants the Jews to eat unleavened
bread at the Passover he says this over and over again, like
an old gentleman in his dotage. Queer book.
Some texts are -very funny. Deut. XXIV, 5: "When a man
hath taken a new wife, he shall not go out to war, neither shall
he be charged with any business : but he shall be free at home
one year, and shall cheer up his wife which he hath taken." I
should never have guessed "cheer up" was a Biblical expression.
Here is another really inspiring text: "Cursed be he that lieth
with his mother-in-law. And all the people shall say, Amen." St.
Paul on marriage: "I say therefore to the unmarried and wid-
ows, It is good for them if they abide even as I. But if they
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
cannot contain, let them marry: for it is better to marry than to
burn." This has remained the doctrine of the Church to this
day. It is clear that the Divine purpose in the text "it is better to
marry than to burn" is to make us all feel how very dreadful the
torments of Hell must be.
Thursday 16th [August 1918]
Dear one, will you be very patient and kind with me the seven
weeks that remain, and bear with me if I grow horrid? It has
been difficult after the hopes of release. I am very tired, very
weary. I am of course tortured by jealousy; I knew I should be.
I know so little of your doings that I probably imagine more
than the truth. I have grown so nervy from confinement and
dwelling on the future that I feel a sort of vertigo, an impulse to
destroy the happiness in prospect. Will you please quite calmly
ignore anything I do these next weeks in obedience to this im-
pulse. As yet, I am just able to see that it is mad, but soon it will
seem the only sanity. I shall set to work to hurt you, to make
you break with me; I shall say I won't see you when I first come
out; I shall pretend to have lost all affection for you. All this is
madness the effect of jealousy and impatience combined.
The pain of wanting a thing very much at last grows so great
that one has to try not to want it any longer Now here it is: 7
want everything as we planned it Ashford, then Winchelsea
if you can. If later I say I don't want this, please pay no atten-
tion.
To Miss Kinder* 30th July, 1918
Many thanks for Spectator review. Is it not odd that people
can in the same breath praise "the free man's worship" and find
* Miss Kinder worked at the No Conscription Fellowship, and was chiefly con-
cerned with details in the treatment of pacifist prisoners.
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fault with my views on the war? The free man's worship is
merely the expression of the pacifist outlook when it was new to
me. So many people enjoy rhetorical expressions of fine feel-
ings, but hate to see people perform the actions that must go
with the feelings if they are genuine. How could any one, ap-
proving the free man's worship, expect me to join in the trivial
self-righteous moral condemnation of the Germans? All moral
condemnation is utterly against the whole view of life that was
then new to me but is now more and more a part of my being. I
am naturally pugnacious, and am only restrained (when I am
restrained) by a realisation of the tragedy of human existence,
and the absurdity of spending our little moment in strife and
heat. That I, a funny little gesticulating animal on two legs,
should stand beneath the stars and declaim in a passion about
my rights it seems so laughable, so out of all proportion.
Much better, like Archimedes, to be killed because of absorp-
tion in eternal things. And when once men get away from their
rights, from the struggle to take up more room in the world
than is their due, there is such a capacity of greatness in them.
All the loneliness and the pain and the eternal pathetic hope
the power of love and the appreciation of beauty the concen-
tration of many ages and spaces in the mirror of a single mind
these are not things one would wish to destroy wantonly, for
any of the national ambitions that politicians praise. There is a
possibility in human minds of something mysterious as the
night-wind, deep as the sea, calm as the stars, and strong as
Death, a mystic contemplation, the "intellectual love of God."
Those who have known it cannot believe in wars any longer, or
in any kind of hot struggle. If I could give to others what has
come to me in this way, I could make them too feel the futility
of fighting. But I do not know how to communicate it: when I
speak, they stare, applaud, or smile, but do not understand.
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To Ottoline Morrell August 8th, 1918
All you write about S.S. [Siegfried Sassoon] is interesting
and poignant. I know so well the indignation he suffers from
I have lived in it for months, and on the edge of it for years. I
think that one way of getting over it is to perceive that others
might judge oneself in the same way, unjustly, but with just as
good grounds. Those of us who are rich are just like the young
women whose sex flourishes on the blood of soldiers. Every
motor-tyre is made out of the blood of negroes under the lash,
yet motorists are not all heartless villains. When we buy wax
matches, we buy a painful and lingering death for those who
make them. . . . War is only the final flower of the capitalist
system, but with an unusual proletariat. S.S. sees war, not
peace, from the point of view of the proletariat. But this is only
politics. The fundamental mistake lies in wrong expectations,
leading to cynicism when they are not .realised. Conventional
morality leads us to expect unselfishness in decent people. This
is an error. Man is an animal bent on securing food and propa-
gating the species. One way of succeeding in these objects is to
persuade others that one is after their welfare but to be really
after any welfare but one's own and one's children's is unnatu-
ral. It occurs like sadism and sodomy, but is equally against
nature. A good social system is not to be secured by making
people unselfish, but by making their own vital impulses fit in
with other people's. This is feasible. Our present system makes
self-preservation only possible at the expense of others. The sys-
tem is at fault; but it is a weakness to be disgusted with people
because they aim at self-preservation. One's idealism needs to be
too robust for such weaknesses. It doesn't do to forget or deny
the animal in man. The God in man will not be visible, as a
rule, while the animal is thwarted. Those who have produced
stoic philosophies have all had enough to eat and drink. The
sum total of the matter is that one's idealism must be robust and
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must fit in with the facts of nature; and that which is horrible in
the actual world is mainly due to a bad system. Spinoza, al-
ways, is right in all these things, to my mind.
llth August, 1918
It is quite true what you say, that you have never expressed
yourself but who has, that has anything to express? The
things one says are all unsuccessful attempts to say something
else something that perhaps by its very nature cannot be
said. I know that I have struggled all my life to say something
that I never shall learn how to say. And it is the same with you.
It is so with all who spend their lives in the quest of something
elusive, and yet omnipresent, and at once subtle and infinite.
One seeks it in music, and the sea, and sunsets; at times I have
seemed very near it in crowds when I have been feeling strongly
what they were feeling; one seeks it in love above all. But if one
lets oneself imagine one has found it, some cruel irony is sure to
come and show one that it is not really found. (I have come
nearest to expressing myself in the chapter on Education in So-
cial Reconstruction. But it is a very long way from a really full
self-expression. You are hindered by timidity. )
The outcome is that one is a ghost, floating through the
world without any real contact. Even when one feels nearest to
other people, something in one seems obstinately to belong to
God and to refuse to enter into any earthly communion at
least that is how I should express it if I thought there was a
God. It is odd isn't it? I care passionately for this world, and
many things and people in it, and yet ... what is it all?
There must be something more important, one feels, though I
don't believe there is. I am haunted some ghost, from some
extra-mundane region, seems always trying to tell me some-
thing that I am to repeat to the world, but I cannot understand
the message. But it is from listening to the ghost that one comes
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
to feel oneself a ghost. I feel I shall find the truth on my death-
bed and be surrounded by people too stupid to understand
fussing about medicines instead of searching for wisdom. Love
and imagination mingled; that seems the main thing so far.
Your B.
27th August, 1918
I have been reading Marsh* on Rupert [Brooke]. It makes
me very sad and very indignant. It hurts reading of all that
young world now swept away Rupert and his brother and
Keeling and lots of others in whom one foolishly thought at
the time that there was hope for the world they were full of
life and energy and truth Rupert himself loved life and the
world his hatreds were very concrete, resulting from some
quite specific vanity or jealousy, but in the main he found the
world lovable and interesting. There was nothing of humbug in
him. I feel that after the war-mongers had killed his body in the
Dardanelles they have done their best to kill his spirit by 's
lies. . . . When will people learn the robustness of truth? I
do not know who my biographer may be, but I should like him
to report "with what flourish his nature will" something like
this: "I was not a solemn stained glass saint, existing only for
purposes of edification; I existed from my own centre, many
things that I did were regrettable, I did not respect respectable
people, and when I pretended to do so it was humbug. I lied and
practised hypocrisy, because if I had not I should not have been
allowed to do my work; but there is no need to continue the
hypocrisy after my death. I hated hypocrisy and lies: I loved life
and real people, and wished to get rid of the shams that prevent
us from loving real people as they really are. I believed in
laughter and spontaneity, and trusted to nature to bring out the
* Afterwards Sir Edward. He had been a close friend of mine when we were
undergraduates, but became a civil servant, an admirer of Winston Churchill and
then a high Tory.
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The First War
genuine good in people, if once genuineness could come to be
tolerated." Marsh goes building up the respectable legend,
making the part of youth harder in the future, so far as lies in
his power - I try so hard not to hate, but I do hate respectable
liars and oppressors and corruptors of youth I hate them
with all my soul, and the war has given them a new lease of
power. The young were shaking them off, but they have se-
cured themselves by setting the young to kill each other. But
rage is useless; what is wanted is to carry over into the new time
something of the gaiety and civilised outlook and genial expan-
sive love that was growing when the war came. It is useless to
add one's quota to the sum of hate and so I try to forget those
whom I cannot but hate when I remember them.
Friday, 30 Aug. 18
My dearest O.-
It was a delight seeing you tho' you do not seem in very
good health and those times are difficult for talking let-
ters are really more satisfactory your letters are the -very
greatest joy to me To begin with personal things: I do trust
my friends to do everything possible no one ever had such
kind and devoted friends I am wonderfully touched by what
all of you have done; the people I don't trust are the philoso-
phers (including Whitehead). They are cautious and constitu-
tionally timid; nine out of ten hate me personally (not without
reason) ; they consider philosophical research a foolish pursuit,
only excusable when there is money in it. Before the war I fan-
cied that quite a lot of them thought philosophy important; now
I know that most of them resemble Professors Hanky and
Panky in Erewhon Re-visited.
I trust G. Murray, on the whole, over this business. If he gets
me a post, I hope it will be not very far from London not
further than Birmingham say. I don't the least desire a post ex-
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
cept as a way of getting round Geddes: what I desire is to do
original work in philosophy, but apparently no one in Govern-
ment circles considers that worth doing. Of course a post will
interfere to some extent with research tho' it need not interfere
very much. I must have some complete holiday when I first
come out of prison. I do not want residence away from London:
I would almost as soon face another term of imprisonment, for
reasons which can't be explained to G. Murray. But I am most
grateful to him for all the trouble he is taking. I am not worry-
ing in the least.
How delightful of you to think of Lulworth too. It was the
very place I had been thinking of, before I came upon it in
R. Brooke. I was only there once for a moment on a walking-
tour (1912) and have always wanted to go back. Do stick to
the plan latish October. We can settle exactly when, later. It
will be glorious.
I wonder whether you quite get at Brett. I am sure her deaf-
ness is the main cause of all that you regret in her. She wrote a
terrible account of what it means to her the other day in a letter
you sent me I don't know whether you read it. If not I will
show it you. I am very sorry about Burnley. It is a blow. There
will be no revival of pacifism; the war will go on till the Ger-
mans admit themselves beaten, which I put end of next year.
Then we shall have the League to Enforce Peace, which will
require conscription everywhere. Much interested about S.S.
and munition factory; all experience may be useful. It would
never occur to me to think of it as an "attitude."
I was sorry to refuse so many books, and also to give you the
trouble of taking so many away. I believe in future I shall be
able to send them by Carter Paterson. My cell is small and I
must keep down the number of books. Between books and ear-
wigs I have hardly had room to turn round.
Please thank Miss Bentinck most warmly for the lovely
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The First War
peaches. I think it very kind of her to send them when she
thinks me so wicked. I don't know how long you are staying
at Kirkby Lonsdale All that region is so associated in my
mind with Theodore's death.
Oh won't it be glorious to be able to walk across fields and see
the horizon and talk freely and be with friends It is near
enough now to believe it will come I am settled into this ex-
istence, and fairly placid, but only because it will end soon. All
kinds of delights float before my mind above all talk, talk,
TALK. I never knew how one can hunger for it The time
here has done me good, I have read a lot and thought a lot and
grown collected, I am bursting with energy but I do long for
civilization and civilized talk And I long for the SEA and
wildness and wind I hate being all tidy like a book in a li-
brary where no one reads Prison is horribly like that Im-
agine if you knew you were a delicious book, and some Jew
millionaire bought you and bound you uniform with a lot of
others and stuck you up in a shelf behind glass, where you
merely illustrated the completeness of his System and no
anarchist was allowed to read you That is what one feels like
but soon now one will be able to insist on being read.
Goodbye Much much love and endless thanks for your
endless kindness. Do stick to Lulworth
YourE.
P.S. Letter to Brett elsewhere. Please return commonplace
books Wednesday will do. But I run short of them unless
they are returned.
To "Brett" 30.818
My dear Brett:
Thank you for your letter. It is a kindness writing letters to
me when I am here, as they are the only unhampered contact I
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The Autobiography of Eertrand Russell
can have with other people. I think prison, if it lasted, would be
worse than your fate, but as mine is so brief it is nothing like as
bad as what you have to endure. I do realize how terrible it is.
But I believe there are things you could do that would make it
less trying, small things mostly. To begin with a big thing:
practise the mental discipline of not thinking how great a mis-
fortune it is; when your mind begins to run in that direction,
stop it violently by reciting a poem to yourself or thinking of the
multiplication-table or some such plan. For smaller things: try,
as far as possible, not to sit about with people who are having a
general conversation; get in a corner with a tgte-a-tete; make
yourself interesting in the first place by being interested in who-
ever you are talking with, until things become easy and natural.
I suppose you have practised lip-reading? Take care of your
inner attitude to people: let it not be satirical or aloof, set your-
self to try and get inside their skins and feel the passions that
move them and the seriousness of the things that matter to
them. Don't judge people morally: however just one's judg-
ment, that is a barren attitude. Most people have a key, fairly
simple; if you find it, you can unlock their hearts. Your deafness
need not prevent this, if you make a point of tgte-a-tgte. It has
always seemed to me fearfully trying for you at Garsington to
spend so much time in the middle of talk and laughter that you
cannot understand. Don't do more of that than you must. You
can be "included in human life." But it wants effort, and it
wants that you should grot something that people will value.
Though your deafness may make that harder, it doesn't make it
impossible. Please don't think all this very impertinent. I have
only written it because I can't bear to think how you suffer.
Poor Mr. Green! Tell him to consult me when he wants to
make a conquest; I will give him sage advice, which he evi-
dently needs. Your picture of the 3 women sounds most ex-
citing. I do hope it will be glorious. I hope I shall see you when
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you return from destroying your fellow-creatures in Scotland
I sympathize with the Chinese philosopher who fished with-
out bait, because he liked fishing but did not like catching fish.
When the Emperor found him so employed, he made him
Prime Minister. But I fear that won't happen to me.
Yrs.,
B.R.
The lady to whom the above letter is addressed was a daugh-
ter of Lord Esher but was known to all her friends by her fam-
ily name of Brett. At the time when I wrote the above letter, she
was spending most of her time at Garsington with the Morrells.
She went later to New Mexico in the wake of D. H. Lawrence.
To Ottoline Morrell 31/8/ 18
(For any one whom it may interest) :
There never was such a place as prison for crowding images
one after another they come upon me early morning in
the Alps, with the smell of aromatic pines and high pastures
glistening with dew the lake of Garda as one first sees it
coming down out of the mountains, just a glimpse far below,
dancing and gleaming in the sunlight like the eyes of a laugh-
ing, mad, Spanish gypsy thunderstorm in the Mediterra-
nean, with a dark violet sea, and the mountains of Corsica in
sunshine far beyond the Scilly Isles in the setting sun, en-
chanted and unreal, so that you think they must have vanished
before you can reach them, looking like the Islands of the Blest,
not to be achieved during this mortal life the smell of the bog
myrtle in Skye memories of sunsets long ago, all the way
back into childhood I can hear now as if it were yesterday
the street-cry of a man in Paris selling "artichaux verts et
beaux" 24 years ago almost to a day. Quite from childhood I
remember a certain row of larches after rain, with a raindrop at
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
the end of every twig and I can hear the wind in the tree-tops
in midnight woods on summer nights everything free or
beautiful comes into my thoughts sooner or later. What is the
use of shutting up the body, seeing that the mind remains free?
And outside my own life, I have lived, while I have been here, in
Brazil and China and Tibet, in the French Revolution, in the
souls of animals and even of the lowest animals. In such adven-
tures I have forgotten the prison in which the world is keeping
itself at the moment: I am free, and the world shall be.
September 4th, 1918
Dearest O.-
It is dreadful the killing of the people who might have made
a better future. As for me: I am sure it is a "sure firm growth."
It is two quite distinct things: some quite good technical ideas,
which have come simply because they were due, like cuckoos in
April; and a way of feeling towards life and the world, which I
have been groping after especially since the war started, but
also since a certain moment in a churchyard near Broughton,
when you told me to make a place for wildness in my morality,
and I asked you what you meant, and you explained. It has been
very difficult: my instinctive morality was so much that of self-
repression. I used to be afraid of myself and the darker side of
my instincts; now I am not. You began that, and the war com-
pleted it.
[128]
II
Russia
THE ending of the War enabled me to avoid several unpleas-
ant things which would otherwise have happened to me.
The military age was raised in 1918, and for the first time I
became liable to military service, which I should of course have
had to refuse. They called me up for medical examination, but
the Government with its utmost efforts was unable to find out
where I was, having forgotten that it had put me in prison. If
the War had continued I should very soon have found myself in
prison again as a conscientious objector. From a financial point
of view also the ending of the War was very advantageous to
me. While I was writing Principia Mathematwa I felt justified
in living on inherited money, though I did not feel justified in
keeping an additional sum of capital that I inherited from my
grandmother. I gave away this sum in its entirety, some to the
University of Cambridge, some to Newnham College, and the
rest to various educational objects. After parting with the de-
bentures that I gave to Eliot, I was left with only about 100 a
year of unearned money, which I could not get rid of as it was in
my marriage settlement. This did not seem to matter, as I had
become capable of earning money by my books. In prison, how-
ever, while I was allowed to write about mathematics, I was not
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
allowed to write the sort of book by which I could make money.
I should therefore have been nearly penniless when I came out
but for the fact that Sanger and some other friends got up a
philosophical lectureship for me in London. With the ending of
the War I was again able to earn money by writing, and I have
never since been in serious financial difficulties except at times
in America.
The ending of the War made a difference in my relations with
Colette. During the War we had many things to do in common,
and we shared all the very powerful emotions connected with
the War. After the War things became more difficult and more
strained. From time to time we would part for ever, but re-
peatedly these partings proved unexpectedly temporary. During
the three summer months of 1919, Littlewood (the mathemati-
cian) and I rented a farmhouse on a hill about a mile outside
Lulworth. There were a good many rooms in this farmhouse,
and we had a series of visitors throughout the whole summer.
The place was extraordinarily beautiful, with wide views along
the coast. The bathing was good, and there were places where
Littlewood could exhibit his prowess as a climber, an art in
which he was very expert. Meantime I had been becoming in-
terested in my second wife. I met her first in 1916 through her
friend Dorothy Wrinch. Both were at Girton, and Dorothy
Wrinch was a pupil of mine. She arranged in the summer of
1916 a two days' walk with herself, Dora Black, Jean Nicod,
and me. Jean Nicod was a young French philosopher, also a
pupil of mine, who had escaped the War through being con-
sumptive. (He died of phthisis in 1924.) He was one of the
most delightful people that I have ever known, at once very gen-
tle and immensely clever. He had a type of whimsical humour
that delighted me. Once I was saying to him that people who
learned philosophy should be trying to understand the world,
and not only, as in universities, the systems of previous philoso-
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Russia
phers. "Yes,'* he replied, "but the systems are so much more
interesting than the world." Dora Black, whom I had not seen
before, interested me at once. We spent the evening at Shere,
and to beguile the time after dinner, I started by asking every-
body what they most desired in life. I cannot remember what
Dorothy and Nicod said; I said that I should like to disappear
like the man in Arnold Bennett's Buried Alive, provided I could
be sure of discovering a widow in Putney as he did. Dora, to my
surprise, said that she wanted to marry and have children. Until
that moment I had supposed that no clever young woman would
confess to so simple a desire, and I concluded that she must
possess exceptional sincerity. Unlike the rest of us she was not,
at that time, a thorough-going objector to the War.
In June 1919, at Dorothy Wrinch's suggestion, I invited her
to come to tea with Allen and me at the flat that I shared with
him in Battersea. She came, and we embarked on a heated argu-
ment as to the rights of fathers. She said that, for her part, if
she had children she would consider them entirely her own, and
would not be disposed to recognize the father's rights. I replied
hotly: "Well, whoever I have children by, it won't be you!" As
a result of this argument, I dined with her next evening, and at
the end of the evening we arranged that she should come to
Lulworth for a long visit. I had on that day had a more than
usually definitive parting from Colette, and I did not suppose
that I should ever see her again. However, the day after Little-
wood and I got to Lulworth I had a telegram from Colette to
say that she was on her way down in a hired car, as there was no
train for several hours. Fortunately, Dora was not due for some
days, but throughout the summer I had difficulties and awk-
wardnesses in preventing their times from overlapping.
I wrote the above passage in 1931, and in 1949 I showed it to
Colette. Colette wrote to me, enclosing two letters that I had
written to her in 1919, which showed me how much I had for-
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
gotten. After reading them I remembered that throughout the
time at Lulworth my feelings underwent violent fluctuations,
caused by fluctuations in Colette's behaviour. She had three dis-
tinct moods: one of ardent devotion, one of resigned determina-
tion to part for ever, and one of mild indifference. Each of these
produced its own echo in me, but the letters that she enclosed
showed me that the echo had been more resounding than I had
remembered. Her letter and mine show the emotional unreliabil-
ity of memory. Each knew about the other, but questions of tact
arose which were by no means easy. Dora and I became lovers
when she came to Lulworth, and the parts of the summer dur-
ing which she was there were extraordinarily delightful. The
chief difficulty with Colette had been that she was unwilling to
have children, and that I felt if I was ever to have children I
could not put it off any longer. Dora was entirely willing to have
children, with or without marriage, and from the first we used
no precautions. She was a little disappointed to find that almost
immediately our relations took on all the character of marriage,
and when I told her that I should be glad to get a divorce and
marry her, she burst into tears, feeling, I think, that it meant the
end of independence and light-heartedness. But the feeling we
had for each other seemed to have that kind of stability that
made any less serious relation impossible. Those who have
known her only in her public capacity would scarcely credit the
quality of elfin charm which she possessed whenever the sense
of responsibility did not weigh her down. Bathing by moon-
light, or running with bare feet on the dewy grass, she won my
imagination as completely as on her serious side she appealed to
my desire for parenthood and my sense of social responsibility.
Our days at Lulworth were a balance of delicious outdoor
activities, especially swimming, and general conversations as
good as any that I have ever had. The general theory of relativ-
ity was in those days rather new, and Littlewood and I used to
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discuss it endlessly. We used to debate whether the distance
from us to the post-office was or was not the same as the dis-
tance from the post-office to us, though on this matter we never
reached a conclusion. The eclipse expedition which confirmed
Einstein's prediction as to the bending of light occurred during
this time, and Littlewood got a telegram from Eddington tell-
ing him that the result was what Einstein said it should be.
As always happens when a party of people who know each
other well is assembled in the country, we came to have collec-
tive jokes from which casual visitors were excluded. Sometimes
the claims of politeness made these jokes quite painful. There
was a lady called Mrs. Fiske Warren whom I had known when
I lived at Bagley Wood, rich and beautiful and intellectual,
highly intellectual in fact. It was for her unofficial benefit that
Modern Greats were first invented. Carefully selected dons
taught her Greek philosophy without demanding a knowledge
of Greek. She was a lady of deep mystical intuitions, and an
admirer of Blake. I had stayed at her country house in Massa-
chusetts in 1914, and had done my best to live up to her some-
what rarefied atmosphere. Her husband, whom I had never met,
was a fanatical believer in Single Tax, and was in the habit of
buying small republics, such as Andorra, with a view to putting
Henry George's principles into practice. While we were at Lul-
worth, she sent me a book of her poems and a book of her hus-
band's on his hobby. At the same time a letter came from her
husband, who was in London, saying that he wished to see me.
I replied that it was impossible as I was not in London. He tele-
graphed back to say that he would come to lunch Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday, whichever suited
me, although to do so he had to leave London at six in the morn-
ing. I chose Friday, and began hastily cutting the pages of his
wife's poems. I found a poem headed "To One Who Sleeps by
My Side," in which occurred the line: "Thou art too full of this
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
world's meat and wine." I read the poem to the company, and
called up the housekeeper, giving orders that the meal should
be plentiful and that there should be no deficiency of alcohol.
He turned out to be a lean, ascetic, anxious character, too ear-
nest to waste any of the moments of life here below in jokes or
frivolities. When we were all assembled at lunch, and I began
to offer him food and drink, he replied in a sad voice: "No,
thank you. I am a vegetarian and a teetotaller." Littlewood hast-
ily made a very feeble joke at which we all laughed much more
than its merits warranted.
Summer, the sea, beautiful country, and pleasant company,
combined with love and the ending of the War to produce almost
ideally perfect circumstances. At the end of the summer I went
back to Clifford Allen's flat in Battersea, and Dora went to Paris
to pursue the researches which she was making, in her capacity
of Fellow of Girton, into the beginnings of French free-thinking
philosophy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. I still
saw her occasionally, sometimes in London, sometimes in Paris.
I was still seeing Colette, and was in a mood of indecision.
At Christmas Dora and I met at the Hague, to which place I
went to see my friend Wittgenstein. I knew Wittgenstein first
at Cambridge before the War. He was an Austrian, and his fa-
ther was enormously rich. Wittgenstein had intended to become
an engineer, and for that purpose had gone to Manchester.
Through reading mathematics he became interested in the prin-
ciples of mathematics, and asked at Manchester who there was
who worked at this subject. Somebody mentioned my name,
and he took up his residence at Trinity. He was perhaps the
most perfect example I have ever known of genius as tradition-
ally conceived, passionate, profound, intense, and dominating.
He had a kind of purity which I have never known equalled
except by G. E. Moore. I remember taking him once to a meet-
ing of the Aristotelian Society, at which there were various
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fools whom I treated politely. When we came away he raged
and stormed against my moral degradation in not telling these
men what fools they were. His life was turbulent and troubled,
and his personal force was extraordinary. He lived on milk and
vegetables, and I used to feel as Mrs. Patrick Campbell did
about Shaw: "God help us if he should ever eat a beefsteak.""
He used to come to see me every evening at midnight, and pace
up and down my room like a wild beast for three hours in agi-
tated silence. Once I said to him: "Are you thinking about logic
or about your sins?" "Both," he replied, and continued his pac-
ing. I did not like to suggest that it was time for bed, as it
seemed probable both to him and me that on leaving me he
would commit suicide. At the end of his first term at Trinity, he
came to me and said: "Do you think I am an absolute idiot?" I
said: "Why do you want to know?" He replied: "Because if I
am I shall become an aeronaut, but if I am not I shall become a
philosopher." I said to him: "My dear fellow, I don't know
whether you are an absolute idiot or not, but if you will write
me an essay during the vacation upon any philosophical topic
that interests you, I will read it and tell you." He did so, and
brought it to me at the beginning of the next term. As soon as I
read the first sentence, I became persuaded that he was a man of
genius, and assured him that he should on no account become
an aeronaut. At the beginning of 1914 he came to me in a state
of great agitation and said: "I am leaving Cambridge, I am
leaving Cambridge at once." "Why?" I asked. "Because my
brother-in-law has come to live in London, and I can't bear to be
so near him." So he spent the rest of the winter in the far north
of Norway. In early days I once asked G. E. Moore what he
thought of Wittgenstein. "I think very well of him," he said. I
asked why, and he replied: "Because at my lectures he looks
puzzled, and nobody else ever looks puzzled."
When the War came, Wittgenstein, who was very patriotic,
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became an officer in the Austrian Army. For the first few
months it was still possible to write to him and to hear from
him, but before long this became impossible, and I knew noth-
ing of him until about a month after the Armistice, when I got a
letter from him written from Monte Cassino, saying that a few
days after the armistice he had been taken prisoner by the Ital-
ians, but fortunately with his manuscript. It appeared that he
had written a book in the trenches, and wished me to read it. He
was the kind of man who would never have noticed such small
matters as bursting shells when he was thinking about logic.
He sent me the manuscript of his book, which I discussed with
Nicod and Dorothy Wrinch at Lulworth. It was the book which
was subsequently published under the title Tractatus Logico-
Philosophicus. It was obviously important to see him and dis-
cuss it by word of mouth, and it seemed best to meet in a neutral
country. We therefore decided upon the Hague. At this point,
however, a surprising difficulty arose. His father, just before
the outbreak of the War, had transferred his whole fortune to
Holland, and was therefore just as rich at the end as at the be-
ginning. Just about at the time of the Armistice his father had
died, and Wittgenstein inherited the bulk of his fortune. He
came to the conclusion, however, that money is a nuisance to a
philosopher, so he gave every penny of it to his brother and sis-
ters. Consequently he was unable to pay the fare from Vienna to
the Hague, and was far too proud to accept it from me. At last a
solution of this difficulty was found. The furniture and books
which he had had at Cambridge were stored there, and he ex-
pressed a willingness to sell them to me. I took the advice of the
Cambridge furniture dealer in whose care they were as to their
value, and bought them at the figure he suggested. They were
in fact worth far more than he supposed, and it was the best
bargain I ever made. This transaction made it possible for
Wittgenstein to come to the Hague, where we spent a week ar-
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guing his book line by line, while Dora went to the Public Li-
brary to read the invectives of Salmatius against Milton.
Wittgenstein, though a logician, was at once a patriot and a
pacifist. He had a very high opinion of the Russians, with
whom he had fraternized at the Front. He told me that once in a
village in Galicia, where for the moment he had nothing to do,
he found a book-shop, and it occurred to him that there might
be a book in it. There was just one, which was Tolstoy on the
Gospels. He therefore bought it, and was much impressed by it.
He became for a time very religious, so much so that he began
to consider me too wicked to associate with. In order to make a
living he became an elementary school-master in a country vil-
lage in Austria, called Trattenbach. He would write to me say-
ing: "The people of Trattenbach are very wicked." I would
reply: "Yes, all men are very wicked." He would reply: "True,
but the men of Trattenbach are more wicked than the men of
other places." I replied that my logical sense revolted against
such a proposition. But he had some justification for his opin-
ion. The peasants refused to supply him with milk because he
taught their children sums that were not about money. He must
have suffered during this time hunger and considerable priva-
tion, though it was very seldom that he could be induced to say
anything about it, as he had the pride of Lucifer. At last his
sister decided to build a house, and employed him as architect.
This gave him enough to eat for several years, at the end of
which time he returned to Cambridge as a don, where Clive
BelPs son wrote poems in heroic couplets against him. He was
not always easy to fit into a social occasion. Whitehead de-
scribed to me the first time that Wittgenstein came to see him.
He was shown into the drawing-room during afternoon tea. He
appeared scarcely aware of the presence of Mrs. Whitehead,
but marched up and down the room for some time in silence,
and at last said explosively: "A proposition has two poles. It is
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
apb? Whitehead, in telling me, said: "I naturally asked what
are a and , but I found that I had said quite the wrong thing. c a
and b are indefinable,' Wittgenstein answered in a voice of
thunder."
Like all great men he had his weaknesses. At the height of
his mystic ardour in 1922, at a time when he assured me with
great earnestness that it is better to be good than clever, I found
him terrified of wasps, and, because of bugs, unable to stay an-
other night in lodgings we had found in Innsbruck. After my
travels in Russia and China, I was inured to small matters of
that sort, but not all his conviction that the things of this world
are of no account could enable him to endure insects with pa-
tience. In spite of such slight foibles, however, he was an im-
pressive human being.
I spent almost the whole of the year 1920 in travelling. At
Easter, I was invited to lecture at Barcelona at the Catalan Uni-
versity there. From Barcelona I went to Majorca, where I
stayed at Soller. The old innkeeper (the only one in the place)
informed me that, as he was a widower, he could not give me
any food, but I was at liberty to walk in his garden and pluck
his oranges whenever I pleased. He said this with such a courte-
ous air that I felt constrained to express my profound gratitude.
In Majorca, I began a great quarrel which raged for many
months through many changes of latitude and longitude.
I was planning to go to Russia, and Dora wanted to go with
me. I maintained that, as she had never taken much interest in
politics, there was no good reason why she should go, and, as
typhus was raging, I should not feel justified in exposing her to
the risk. We were both adamant, and it was an issue upon
which compromise was impossible. I still think I was right, and
she still thinks she was right.
Soon after returning from Majorca, my opportunity came. A
Labour deputation was going to Russia, and was willing that I
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should accompany it. The Government considered my applica-
tion, and after causing me to be interviewed by H. A. L. Fisher,
they decided to let me go. The Soviet Government was more
difficult to persuade, and when I was already in Stockholm on
the way, Litvinov was still refusing permission, in spite of our
having been fellow-prisoners in Brixton. However, the objec-
tions of the Soviet Government were at last overcome. We were
a curious party. Mrs. Snowden, Clifford Allen, Robert Wil-
liams, Tom Shaw, an enormously fat old Trade Unionist
named Ben Turner, who was very helpless without his wife and
used to get Clifford Allen to take his boots off for him, Haden
Guest as medical attendant, and several Trade Union officials.
In Petrograd, where they put the imperial motorcar at our dis-
posal, Mrs. Snowden used to drive about enjoying its luxury
and expressing pity for the "poor Czar." Haden Guest was a
theosophist with a fiery temper and a considerable libido. He
and Mrs. Snowden were very anti-Bolshevik. Robert Williams,
I found, was very happy in Russia, and was the only one of our
party who made speeches pleasing to the Soviet Government.
He always told them that revolution was imminent in England,
and they made much of him. I told Lenin that he was not to be
trusted, and the very next year, on Black Friday, he ratted.
Then there was Charlie Buxton, whose pacifism had led him to
become a Quaker. When I shared a cabin with him, he would
beg me to stop in the middle of a sentence in order that he might
practise silent prayer. To my surprise, his pacifism did not lead
him to think ill of the Bolsheviks.
For my part, the time I spent in Russia was one of continu-
ally increasing nightmare. I have said in print what, on reflec-
tion, appeared to me to be the truth, but I have not expressed the
sense of utter horror which overwhelmed me while I was there.
Cruelty, poverty, suspicion, persecution, formed the very air we
breathed. Our conversations were continually spied upon. In the
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
middle of the night one would hear shots, and know that
idealists were being killed in prison. There was a hypocritical
pretence of equality, and everybody was called "tovarisch," but
it was amazing how differently this word could be pronounced
according as the person addressed was Lenin or a lazy servant.
On one occasion in Petrograd (as it was called) four scare-
crows came to see me, dressed in rags, with a fortnight's beard,
filthy nails, and tangled hair. They were the four most eminent
poets of Russia. One of them was allowed by the Government to
make his living by lecturing on rhythmics, but he complained
that they insisted upon his teaching this subject from a Marxian
point of view, and that for the life of him he could not see how
Marx came into the matter.
Equally ragged were the Mathematical Society of Petrograd.
I went to a meeting of this society at which a man read a paper
on non-Euclidean geometry. I could not understand anything of
it except the formulae which he wrote on the blackboard, but
these were quite the right sort of formulae, so that one may as-
sume the paper to have been competent. Never, in England,
have I seen tramps who looked so abject as the mathematicians
of Petrograd. I was not allowed to see Kropotkin, who not long
afterwards died. The governing classes had a self-confidence
quite as great as that produced by Eton and Oxford. They be-
lieved that their formulae would solve all difficulties. A few of
the more intelligent knew that this was not the case, but did not
dare to say so. Once, in a tete-a-tete conversation with a scien-
tific physician named Zalkind, he began to say that climate has
a great effect upon character, but instantly he pulled himself up
short, and said: "Of course that is not really the case; only
economic circumstances affect character." I felt that everything
that I valued in human life was being destroyed in the interests
of a glib and narrow philosophy, and that in the process untold
misery was being inflicted upon many millions of people. With
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every day that I spent in Russia my horror increased, until I lost
all power of balanced judgment.
From Petrograd we went to Moscow, which is a very beauti-
ful city, and architecturally more interesting than Petrograd be-
cause of the Oriental influence. I was amused by various small
ways in which Bolshevik love of mass-production showed itself.
The main meal of the day occurred at about four o'clock in the
afternoon, and contained among other ingredients the heads of
fishes. I never discovered what happened to their bodies, though
I suppose they were eaten by the peoples' Komissars. The river
Moskwa was chock full of fish, but people were not allowed to
catch them, as no up-to-date mechanical method had yet been
found to supersede the rod and line. The city was almost starv-
ing, but it was felt that fishes' heads, caught by trawlers, were
better than fishes' bodies caught by primitive methods.
We went down the Volga on a steamer, and Clifford Allen
became extremely ill with pneumonia, which revived the tuber-
culosis from which he had previously suffered. We were all to
leave the boat at Saratov, but Allen was too ill to be moved, so
Haden Guest, Mrs. Snowden and I remained on the boat to look
after him, while it travelled on to Astrakhan. He had a very small
cabin, and the heat was inconceivable. The windows had to be
kept tight shut on account of the malarial mosquitoes, and Al-
len suffered from violent diarrhoea. We had to take turns nurs-
ing him, for although there was a Russian nurse on board, she
was afraid to sit with him at night for fear that he might die
and his ghost might seize her.
Astrakhan seemed to me more like hell than anything I had
ever imagined. The town water-supply was taken from the
same part of the river into which ships shot their refuse. Every
street had stagnant water which bred millions of mosquitoes;
every year one third of the inhabitants had malaria. There was
no drainage system, but a vast mountain of excrement at a
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
prominent place in the middle of the town. Plague was endemic.
There had recently been fighting in the civil war against
Denikin. The flies were so numerous that at meal-time a table-
cloth had to be put over the food, and one had to insert one's
hand underneath and snatch a mouthful quickly. The instant
the table-cloth was put down, it became completely black with
flies, so that nothing of it remained visible. The place is a great
deal below sea-level, and the temperature was 120 degrees in
the shade. The leading doctors of the place were ordered by the
Soviet officials who accompanied us to hear what Haden Guest
had to say about combating malaria, a matter on which he had
been engaged for the British Army in Palestine. He gave them
an admirable lecture on the subject, at the end of which they
said: "Yes, we know all that, but it is very hot." I fancy that the
next time the Soviet officials came that way those doctors were
probably put to death, but of this I have no knowledge. The
most eminent of the doctors in question examined Clifford Allen
and informed me that he could not possibly live two days.
When about a fortnight later we got him out to Reval, the doc-
tor who examined him there again told me that he could not live
two days, but by this time I had come to know something of
Allen's determination to live, and I was less alarmed. He sur-
vived for many years, and became an ornament of the House of
Lords.
After I returned to England I endeavoured to express my
changing moods, before starting and while in Russia, in the
shape of antedated letters to Colette, the last of which I subse-
quently published in my book about China. As they express my
moods at that time better than I can do by anything written
now, I will insert them here:
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London,
April 24, 1920
The day of my departure comes near. I have a thousand things
to do, yet I sit here idle, thinking useless thoughts, the irrelevant,
rebellious thoughts that well-regulated people never think, the
thoughts that one hopes to banish by work, but that themselves
banish work instead. How I envy those who always believe what
they believe, who are not troubled by deadness and indifference to
all that makes the framework of their lives. I have had the ambition
to be of some use in the world, to achieve something notable, to give
mankind new hopes. And now that the opportunity is near, it all
seems dust and ashes. As I look into the future, my disillusioned
gaze sees only strife and still more strife, rasping cruelty, tyranny,
terror and slavish submission. The men of my dreams, erect, fear-
less and generous, will they ever exist on earth? Or will men go on
fighting, killing and torturing to the end of time, till the earth grows
cold and the dying sun can no longer quicken their futile frenzy? I
cannot tell. But I do know the despair in my soul. I know the great
loneliness, as I wander through the world like a ghost, speaking in
tones that are not heard, lost as if I had fallen from some other
planet.
The old struggle goes on, the struggle between little pleasures
and the great pain. I know that the little pleasures are death and yet
I am so tired, so very tired. Reason and emotion fight a deadly
war within me, and leave me no energy for outward action. I know
that no good thing is achieved without fighting, without ruthless-
ness and organization and discipline, I know that for collective
action the individual must be turned into a machine. But in these
things, though my reason may force me to believe them, I can find
no inspiration. It is the individual human soul that I love in its
loneliness, its hopes and fears, its quick impulses and sudden devo-
tions. It is such a long journey from this to armies and States and
officials; and yet it is only by making this long journey that one can
avoid a useless sentimentalism.
All through the rugged years of the War, I dreamed of a happy
day after its end, when I should sit with you in a sunny garden by
the Mediterranean, filled with the scent of heliotrope, surrounded by
cypresses and sacred groves of ilex and there, at last, I should
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
be able to tell you of my love, and to touch the joy that is as real as
pain. The time is come, but I have other tasks, and you have other
desires; and to me, as I sit brooding, all tasks seem vain and all
desires foolish.
Yet it is not upon these thoughts that I shall act.
Petrogad,
May 12, 1920
I am here at last, in this city which has filled the world with his-
tory, which has inspired the most deadly hatreds and the most poig-
nant hopes. Will it yield me up its secret? Shall I learn to know its
inmost soul? Or shall I acquire only statistics and official facts? Shall
I understand what I see, or will it remain an external bewildering
show? In the dead of night we reached the empty station, and our
noisy motors panted through the sleeping streets. From my window,
when I arrived, I looked out across the Neva to the fortress of Peter
and Paul. The river gleamed in the early northern dawn; the scene
was beautiful beyond all words, magical, eternal, suggestive of
ancient wisdom. "It is wonderful," I said to the Bolshevik who stood
beside me. "Yes," he replied, "Peter and Paul is now not a prison,
but the Army Headquarters."
I shook myself. "Come, my friend," I thought, "you are not here
as a tourist, to sentimentalize over sunrises and sunsets and build-
ings starred by Baedeker; you are here as a social investigator, to
study economic and political facts. Come out of your dream, forget
the eternal things. The men you have come among would tell you
they are only the fancies of a bourgeois with too much leisure, and
can you be sure they are anything more?" So I came back into the
conversation, and tried to learn the mechanism for buying an um-
brella at the Soviet Stores, which proved as difficult as fathoming
the ultimate mysteries.
The twelve hours that I have so far spent on Russian soil have
chiefly afforded material for the imp of irony. I came prepared for
physical hardship, discomfort, dirt, and hunger, to be made bear-
able by an atmosphere of splendid hope for mankind. Our com-
munist comrades, no doubt rightly, have not judged us worthy of
such treatment. Since crossing the frontier yesterday afternoon, I
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have made two feasts and a good breakfast, several first-class cigars,
and a night in a sumptuous bedroom of a palace where all the luxury
of the ancien regime has been preserved. At the stations on the way,
regiments of soldiers filled the platform, and the plebs was kept
carefully out of sight. It seems I am to live amid the pomp surround-
ing the government of a great military Empire. So I must readjust
my mood. Cynicism is called for, but I am strongly moved, and find
cynicism difficult. I come back eternally to the same question: What
is the secret of this passionate country? Do the Bolsheviks know its
secret? Do they even suspect that it has a secret? I wonder.
Petrograd,
May 13, 1920
This is a strange world into which I have come, a world of dying
beauty and harsh life. I am troubled at every moment by funda-
mental questions, the terrible insoluble questions that wise men
never ask. Empty palaces and full eating-houses, ancient splendours
destroyed, or mummified in museums, while the sprawling self-
confidence of returned Americanized refugees spreads throughout
the city. Everything is to be systematic: there is to be organization
and distributive justice. The same education for all, the same clothes
for all, the same kind of houses for all, the same books for all, and
the same creed for all it is very just, and leaves no room for
envy, except of the fortunate victims of injustice in other countries.
And then I begin upon the other side of the argument. I remem-
ber Dostoevski's Crime and Punishment, Gorki's In the World,
Tolstoy's Resurrection. I reflect upon the destruction and cruelty
upon which the ancient splendour was built: the poverty, drunken-
ness, prostitution, in which life and health were uselessly wasted; I
think of all the lovers of freedom who suffered in Peter and Paul; I
remember the knoutings and pogroms and massacres. By hatred of
the old, I become tolerant of the new, but I cannot like the new on its
own account.
Yet I reproach myself for not liking it. It has all the characteris-
tics of vigorous beginnings. It is ugly and brutal, but full of con-
structive energy and faith in the value of what it is creating. In
creating a new machinery for social life, it has no time to think of
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anything beyond machinery. When the body of the new society has
been built, there will be time enough to think about giving it a soul
at least, so I am assured. "We have no time for a new art or a
new religion," they tell me with a certain impatience. I wonder
whether it is possible to build a body first, and then afterwards in-
ject the requisite amount of soul. Perhaps but I doubt it.
I do not find any theoretical answer to these questions, but my
feelings answer with terrible insistence. I am infinitely unhappy in
this atmosphere stifled by its utilitarianism, its indifference to
love and beauty and the life of impulse. I cannot give that im-
portance to man's merely animal needs that is given here by those
in power. No doubt that is because I have not spent half my life in
hunger and want, as many of them have. But do hunger and want
necessarily bring wisdom? Do they make men more, or less, capable
of conceiving the ideal society that should be the inspiration of every
reformer? I cannot avoid the belief that they narrow the horizon
more than they enlarge it. But an uneasy doubt remains, and I am
torn in two. . . .
On the Volga.
June 2, 1920.
Our boat travels on, day after day, through an unknown and
mysterious land. Our company are noisy, gay, quarrelsome, full of
facile theories, with glib explanations of everything, persuaded that
there is nothing they cannot understand and no human destiny out-
side the purview of their system. One of us lies at death's door,*
fighting a grim battle with weakness and terror and the indifference
of the strong, assailed day and night by the sounds of loud-voiced
love-making and trivial laughter. And all around us lies a great
silence, strong as Death, unfathomable as the heavens. It seems
that none have leisure to hear the silence, yet it calls to me so in-
sistently that I grow deaf to the harangues of propagandists and the
endless information of the well-informed.
Last night, very late, our boat stopped in a desolate spot where
there were no houses, but only a great sandbank, and beyond it a
row of poplars with the rising moon behind them. In silence I went
* Clifford Allen.
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ashore, and found on the sand a strange assemblage of human
beings, half-nomads, wandering from some remote region of fam-
ine, each family huddled together surrounded by all its belongings,
some sleeping, others silently making small fires of twigs. The
flickering flames lighted up gnarled bearded faces of wild men,
strong patient primitive women, and children as sedate and slow as
their parents. Human beings they undoubtedly were, and yet it
would have been far easier for me to grow intimate with a dog or a
cat or a horse than with one of them. I knew that they would wait
there day after day, perhaps for weeks, until a boat came in which
they could go to some distant place where they had heard falsely
perhaps that the earth was more generous than in the country
they had left. Some would die by the way, all would suffer hunger
and thirst and the scorching midday sun, but their sufferings would
be dumb. To me they seemed to typify the very soul of Russia, un-
expressive, inactive from despair, unheeded by the little set of west-
ernizers who make up all the parties of progress or reaction. Russia
is so vast that the articulate few are lost in it as man and his planet
are lost in interstellar space. It is possible, I thought, that the theo-
rists may increase the misery of the many by trying to force them
into actions contrary to their primeval instincts, but I could not be-
lieve that happiness was to be brought to them by a gospel of in-
dustrialism and forced labour.
Nevertheless, when morning came, I resumed the interminable
discussions of the materialistic conception of history and the merits
of a truly popular government. Those with whom I discussed had
not seen the sleeping wanderers, and would not have been interested
if they had seen them, since they were not material for propaganda.
But something of that patient silence had communicated itself to me,
something lonely and unspoken remained in my heart through all
the comfortable familiar intellectual talk. And at last I began to
feel that all politics are inspired by a grinning devil, teaching the
energetic and quick-witted to torture submissive populations for the
profit of pocket or power or theory. As we journeyed on, fed by food
extracted from the peasants, protected by an army recruited from
among their sons, I wondered what we had to give them in return.
But I found no answer. From time to time I heard their sad songs
or the haunting music of the balalaika; but the sound mingled with
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
the great silence of the steppes, and left me with a terrible question-
ing pain in which occidental hopefulness grew pale.
Sverdlov, the Minister of Transport ( as we should call him ) ,
who was with us on the steamer on the Volga, was extraordinar-
ily kind and helpful about Allen's illness. We came back on the
boat as far as Saratov, and from there to Reval, we travelled all
the way in the carriage that had belonged to the Czar's daugh-
ters, so that Allen did not have to be moved at any stage. If one
might judge from the carriage, some of their habits must have
been curious. There was a luxurious sofa of which the seat
lifted up, and one then discovered three holes in a row suitable
for sanitary purposes. At Moscow on the way home Haden
Guest and I had a furious quarrel with Chicherin because he
would not allow Allen to leave Moscow until he had been exam-
ined by two Soviet doctors, and at first he said that he could not
get the Soviet doctors to see him for another two days. At the
height of the quarrel, on a staircase, I indulged in a shouting
match because Chicherin had been a friend of my Uncle Rollo
and I had hopes of him. I shouted that I should denounce him as
a murderer. It seemed to us and to Allen vital to get him out of
Russia as soon as possible, and we felt that this order to wait for
Soviet doctors would endanger his life. At last a compromise
was effected by which the doctors saw him at once. One of them
was called Popoff ; the name of the other I have forgotten. The
Soviet Government thought that Allen was friendly to them and
that Guest and Mrs. Snowden and I were anxious he should die
so as to suppress his testimony in their favour.
At Reval I met by accident Mrs. Stan Harding, whom I had
not known before. She was going into Russia filled with enthu-
siasm for the Bolsheviks. I did what I could to disenchant her,
but without success. As soon as she arrived they clapped her
into gaol, and kept her there for eight months. She was finally
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liberated on the insistent demand of the British Government.
The fault, however, lay not so much with the Soviet Govern-
ment as with a certain Mrs. Harrison. Mrs. Harrison was an
American lady of good family who was with us on the Volga.
She was in obvious terror and longing to escape from Russia,
but the Bolsheviks kept her under very close observation. There
was a spy named Axionev, whom they had taken over from the
ancien regime, who watched her every movement and listened
to her every word. He had a long beard and a melancholy ex-
pression, and wrote decadent French verse with great skill. On
the night-train he shared a compartment with her; on the boat
whenever anybody spoke with her he would creep behind si-
lently. He had extraordinary skill in the art of creeping. I felt
sorry for the poor lady, but my sorrow was misplaced. She was
an American spy, employed also by the British. The Russians
discovered that she was a spy, and spared her life on condition
that she became a spy for them. But she sabotaged her work for
them, denouncing their friends and letting their enemies go
free. Mrs. Harding knew that she was a spy, and therefore had
to be put away quickly. This was the reason of her denouncing
Mrs. Harding to the Soviet authorities. Nevertheless, she was a
charming woman, and nursed Allen during his illness with
more skill and devotion than was shown by his old friends.
When the facts about her subsequently came to light, Allen
steadfastly refused to hear a word against her.
Lenin, with whom I had an hour's conversation, rather disap-
pointed me. I do not think that I should have guessed him to be
a great man, but in the course of our conversation I was chiefly
conscious of his intellectual limitations, and his rather narrow
Marxian orthodoxy, as well as a distinct vein of impish cruelty.
I have told of this interview, as well as of my adventures in
Russia, in my book Practice and Theory of Bolshevism.
There was at that time no communication with Russia either
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
by letter or telegram, owing to the blockade. But as soon as I
reached Reval I began telegraphing to Dora. To my surprise, I
got no reply. At last, when I was in Stockholm, I telegraphed to
friends of hers in Paris, asking where she was, and received the
answer that when last heard of she was in Stockholm. I sup-
posed she had come to meet me, but after waiting twenty-four
hours in the expectation of seeing her, I met by chance a Finn
who informed me that she had gone to Russia, via the North
Cape. I realized that this was a move in our long-drawn-out
quarrel on the subject of Russia, but I was desperately worried
for fear they would put her in prison, as they would not know
why she had come. There was nothing one could do about it, so
I came back to England, where I endeavoured to recover some
kind of sanity, the shock of Russia having been almost more
than I could bear. After a time, I began to get letters from Dora,
brought out of Russia by friends, and to my great surprise she
liked Russia just as much as I had hated it. I wondered whether
we should ever be able to overcome this difference. However,
among the letters which I found waiting for me when I got back
to England, was one from China inviting me to go there for a
year to lecture on behalf of the Chinese Lecture Association, a
purely Chinese body which aimed at importing one eminent for-
eigner each year, and had in the previous year imported Dr.
Dewey. I decided that I would accept if Dora would come with
me, but not otherwise. The difficulty was to put the matter be-
fore her, in view of the blockade. I knew a Quaker at Reval,
named Arthur Watts, who frequently had to go into Russia in
connection with Quaker relief, so I sent him a telegram costing
several pounds, explaining the circumstances and asking him to
find Dora if he could, and put the matter before her. By a stroke
of luck this all worked out. If we were to go, it was necessary
that she should return at once, and the Bolsheviks at first sup-
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Russia
posed that I was playing a practical joke. In the end, however,
she managed.
We met at Fenchurch Street on a Sunday, and at first we
were almost hostile strangers to each other. She regarded my
objections to the Bolsheviks as bourgeois and senile and senti-
mental I regarded her love of them with bewildered horror. She
had met men in Russia whose attitude seemed to her in every
way superior to mine. I had been finding the same consolation
with Colette as I used to find during the war. In spite of all this,
we found ourselves taking all the necessary steps required for
going off together for a year in China. Some force stronger than
words, or even than our conscious thoughts, kept us together, so
that in action neither of us wavered for a moment. We had to
work literally night and day. From the time of her arrival to the
time of our departure for China was only five days. It was nec-
essary to buy clothes, to get passports in order, to say goodbye
to friends and relations, in addition to all the usual bustle of a
long journey; and as I wished to be divorced while in China, it
was necessary to spend the nights in official adultery. The de-
tectives were so stupid that this had to be done again and again.
At last, however, everything was in order. Dora, with her usual
skill, had so won over her parents that they came to Victoria to
see us off just as if we had been married. This in spite of the
fact that they were completely and entirely conventional. As the
train began to move out of Victoria, the nightmares and compli-
cations and troubles of recent months dropped off, and a com-
pletely new chapter began.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
LETTERS
From J. E. Littlewood
Trinity College
Cambridge
[1919]
Dear Russell:
Einstein's theory is completely confirmed. The predicted dis-
placement was 1" 72 and the observed I" 75 06.
Yours,
J.E.L.
Harvard University
Cambridge
August 29, 1919
Dear Russell:
I wish I knew how to thank you at all adequately for your
letter. When I had finished that book I felt that I cared more for
what you and Mr. Justice Holmes thought about it than for the
opinion of any two living men; and to have you not merely think
it worth while, but agree with it is a very big thing to me. So
that if I merely thank you abruptly you will realise that it is not
from any want of warmth.
I have ventured to send you my first book, which has proba-
bly all the vices of the book one writes at twenty-three; but you
may be interested in the first chapter and the appendices. And if
you'll allow me to, I'd like to send you some more technical
papers of mine. But I don't want you to be bothered by their
presence, and allow them to interfere with your work.
My interest in liberal Catholicism really dates from 1913
when I read Figgis' Churches in the Modern State at Oxford;
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and while I was writing my first book I came to see that, histori-
cally, the church and the State have changed places since the
Reformation and that all the evils of unified ecclesiastical con-
trol are slowly becoming the technique of the modern State
if they have not already become so: it then struck me that the
evil of this sovereignty could be shown fairly easily in the
sphere of religion in its state-connection where men might still
hesitate to admit it in the economic sphere. The second book
tried to bridge the gap; and the book Fm trying now to write is
really an attempt to explain the general problem of freedom in
institutional terms. If by any lucky chance you have time to
write I'd greatly like to send you its plan and have your opinion
on it.
There is a more private thing about which I would like you
to know in case you think there is a chance that you can help. I
know from your Introduction to Mathematical Logic that you
think well of Sheffer who is at present in the Philosophy De-
partment here. I don't know if you have any personal acquaint-
ance with him. He is a jew and he has married someone of
whom the University does not approve; moreover he hasn't the
social qualities that Harvard so highly prizes. The result is that
most of his department is engaged on a determined effort to
bring his career here to an end. Hoernle, who is at present its
chairman, is certain that if someone can explain that Sheffer is
worth while the talk against him would cease; and he's finished
a paper on some aspect of mathematical logic that he himself
feels will give him a big standing when it can get published.
Myself I think that the whole thing is a combination of anti-
semitism and that curious university worship of social prestige
which plays so large a part over here. Do you know anyone at
Harvard well enough to say (if you so think) that Sheffer
ought to have a chance? Of course I write this entirely on my
own responsibility but Fm very certain that if Lowell could
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
know your opinion of Sheffer it would make a big difference to
his future. And if he left here I think he would find it very diffi-
cult to get another post. Please forgive me for bothering you
with these details.
I shall wait with immense eagerness for the Nation. I owe
Massingham many debts; but none so great as this.
Believe me
Tours very sincerely,
HAROLD J. LASKI
From this time onward I used to send periodical cables to
President Lowell, explaining that Sheffer was a man of the
highest ability and that Harvard would be eternally disgraced if
it dismissed him either because he was a Jew or because it dis-
liked his wife. Fortunately these cables just succeeded in their
object.
Harvard University
Cambridge
September 29, 1919
Dear Mr. Russell:
Thank you heartily for your letter. I am sending you some
semi-legal papers and a more general one on administration.
The book I ventured to send you earlier, I am very grateful for
your kindness in wanting them.
And I am still more grateful for your word on Sheffer. I have
given it to Hoernle who will show it to the members of the Phi-
losophy Department and, if necessary, to Lowell. And I have
sent copies to two members of the Corporation who will fight if
there is need. I don\ think there is anything further to be done
at the moment. It would do no good to write to Perry. These last
years, particularly twelve months in the War Department of the
U.S. have made him very conservative and an eager adherent of
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"correct form." He is the head and centre of the enemy forces
and I see no good in trying to move him directly. He wants re-
spectable neo-Christians in the Department who will explain the
necessity of ecclesiastical sanctions; or, if they are not religious,
at least they must be materially successful. I don't think univer-
sities are ever destined to be homes of liberalism; and the Amer-
ican system is in the hands of big business and dominated by its
grosser ideals. Did you ever read Veblen's Higher Learning in
America?
You may be interested to know that I have a graduate class at
Yale this term reading Roads to Freedom. IVe never met Yale
men before; but it was absorbingly interesting to see their
amazement that Marx and Bakunin and the rest could be writ-
ten of without abuse. Which reminds me that in any new edi-
tion of that book I wish you would say a good word for
Proudhon! I think his Du Principe Federatif and his Justice
Dans La Revolution are two very great books.
And may I have a photograph with your name on it to hang
in my study. That would be an act of genuine nobility on your
part.
Tours very sincerely,
HAROLD J. LASKI
Harvard University
Cambridge
November 2 19 19
Dear Mr. Russell:
Many thanks for the photograph. Even if it is bad, it gives a
basis to the imagination and that's what I wanted.
The matter with Perry is the war. He got converted to con-
scription, was at Washington with the educational ( ! ) section
of the War Office and became officialised. The result is that he
looks aslant at all outside the "correct" things much as a staff
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
major who saw life from Whitehall and the Army and Navy
Club. He still means well all New Englanders do; but he has
lost hold of Plato's distinction between willing what is right and
knowing what it is right to will. I think he might be turned on
Sheffer's side if Sheffer would get his paper out amid the ap-
plause of you and Whitehead and Lewis; but Sheffer is a fin-
nicky little fellow and publication halts on his whims and fan-
cies. I haven't given up hope, but I don't dare to hope greatly.
Yale is really interesting, or perhaps all youth, when one is
twenty-six, is interesting. I find that when one presents the stu-
dent-mind with syndicalism or socialism namelessly they take it
as reasonable and obvious; attach the name and they whisper to
the parents that nameless abominations are being perpetrated. I
spoke for the striking police here the other day one of those
strikes which makes one equally wonder at the endurance of the
men and the unimaginative stupidity of the officials. Within a
week two papers and two hundred alumni demanded my dis-
missal teaching sovietism was what urging that men who
get $1100 and work 73 hours are justified in striking after 13
years agitation was called. As it happens Lowell does believe in
freedom of speech, so that I stay; but you get some index to the
present American state of mind.
Yours 'very sincerely,
HAROLD J. LASKI
Harvard University
Cambridge
December 4 1919
Dear Mr. Russell:
Hoernle tells me that Sheffer's paper is on its way to you.
May I tell you how the position stands? Hocking and Hoernle
definitely fight for his reappointment. Perry wavers on account
of Huntingdon's emphatic praise of Sheffer's work and says his
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decision will depend most largely on what you and Moore of
Chicago feel. So if you do approve of it, the more emphatic your
telegram the more helpful it will be. There is a real fighting
chance at the moment.
Things here are in a terrible mess. Injunctions violating
specific government promises; arrest of the miners 1 leaders be-
cause the men refused to go back; recommendation of stringent
legislation against "reds"; arrest of men in the West for simple
possession of an I.W.W. card; argument by even moderates
like Eliot that the issue is a straight fight between labor and
constitutional government; all these are in the ordinary course
of events. And neither Pound nor I think the crest of the wave
has been reached. Some papers have actually demanded that the
Yale University Press withdraw my books from circulation be-
cause they preach "anarchy." On the other hand Holmes and
Brandeis wrote (through Holmes) a magnificent dissent in de-
fence of freedom of speech in an espionage act case. IVe sent the
two opinions to Massingham and suggested that he show them
to you.
This sounds very gloomy; but since America exported Lady
Astor to England there's an entire absence of political comedy.
Tours very sincerely,
HAROLD J. LASKI
Plus ga change.
Harvard University
Cambridge
January 5, 1919 [1920]
Dear Mr. Russell:
It was splendid to have your telegram about Sheffer's paper.
I am afraid we are fighting a lost battle as it looks as if Hoernle
will go to Yale, which means the withdrawal of our main sup-
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
port. Harvard is determined to be socially respectable at all
costs. I have recently been interviewed by the Board of Over-
seers to know (a) whether I believe in a revolution with blood
(b) whether I believe in the Soviet form of government (c)
whether I do not believe that the American form of government
is superior to any other (d) whether I believe in the right of
revolution.
In the last three days they have arrested five thousand social-
ists with a view to deportation. I feel glad that Graham Wallas
is going to try and get me home!
Tours -very sincerely,
HAROLD J. LASKI
Harvard University
Cambridge
February 18th, 1920
Dear Mr. Russell:
Above all, warm congratulations on your return to Cam-
bridge. That sounds like a real return of general sanity. I hope
you will not confine your lectures to mathematical logic. . . .
I sent you the other day a volume of Augent's my wife and I
translated last year; I hope you will find time to glance at it. I
am very eager to get away from this country, as you guessed,
but rather baffled as to how to do it. I see no hope in Oxford and
I know no one at all in Cambridge, Wallas is trying to do some-
thing for me in London, but I don't know with what success, I
am heartily sick of America and I would like to have an atmos-
phere again where an ox does not tread upon the tongue.
Tours 'very sincerely,
HAROLD LASKI
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Russia
16, Warwick Gardens
[London] W. 14
2.1.22
Dear Russell:
This enclosure formally. Informally let me quote from
Rivers: We asked him to stand as the labour candidate for Lon-
don. This is part of his reply. "I think that a distinct factor in
my decision has been The Analysis of Mind which I have now
read really carefully. It is a great book, and makes me marvel at
his intellect. It has raised all kinds of problems with which I
should like to deal, and I certainly should not be able to do so if
I entered on a political life. /crA."
What about Rivers, Joad, Delisle Burns, Clifford Allen as
the nucleus of our new utilitarians?
Yours,
H. J. LASKI
[Postcard]
Cassino
Provincia Caserta
Italy
9.2.19
Dear Russell:
I don't know your precise address but hope these lines will
reach you somehow. I am prisoner in Italy since November and
hope I may communicate with you after a three years interrup-
tion. I have done lots of logikal work which I am dying to let
you know before publishing it.
Ever yours
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
[Postcard]
Cassino
10.3.19
You cann't immagine how glad I was to get your cards! I am
affraid though there is no hope that we may meet before long.
Unless you came to see me here, but this would be too much joy
for me. I cann't write on Logic as I'm not allowed to write more
than 2 Cards ( 15 lines each) a week. I've written a book which
will be published as soon as I get home. I think I have solved
our problems finaly. Write to me often. It will shorten my
prison. God bless you.
Ever yours ^
WITTGENSTEIN
13.3.19
Dear Russell:
Thanks so much for your postcards dated 2nd and 3rd of
March. I've had a -very bad time, not knowing wether you were
dead or alive! I cann't write on Logic as Pm not allowed to write
more than two p.cs. a week ( 15 lines each). This letter is an
ecception, it's posted by an Austrian medical student who goes
home tomorrow. I've written a book called Logisch-Philoso-
phische Abhandlung containing all my work of the last 6 years.
I believe I've solved our problems finally. This may sound ar-
rogant but I cann't help believing it. I finished the book in Au-
gust 1918 and two months after was made Prigioniere. I've got
the manuscript here with me. I wish I could copy it out for you;
but it's pretty long and I would have no safe way of sending it to
you. In fact you would not understand it without a previous ex-
planation as it's written in quite short remarks. (This of cours
means that nobody will understand it; allthough I believe it's all
as clear as crystall. But it upsets all our theory of truth, of
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classes, of numbers and all the rest. ) I will publish it as soon as
I get home. Now Fm affraid this won't be "before long." And
consequently it will be a long time yet till we can meet. I can
hardly immagine seeing you again! It will be too much! I sup-
pose it would be impossible for you to come and see me here?
Or perhaps you think it's collossal cheek of me even to think of
such a thing. But if you were on the other end of the world and I
could come to you I would do it.
Please write to me how you are, remember me to Dr. White-
head. Is old Johnson still alive? Think of me often!
Ever yours,
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
[Cassino
12.6.19]
Lieber Russell!
Vor einigen Tagen schickte ich Dir mem Manuskript durch
Keynes*s Vermittelung. Ich schrieb damals nur ein paar Zeilen
fuer Dich hinein. Seither ist nun Dein Buck ganz in meine
Haende gelangt und nun haette ich ein grosses Beduerfnis Dir
einiges zu schreiben. Ich haette nicht geglaubt, dass das,
was ich vor 6 Jahren in Norwegen dem Moore diktierte an Dir
so spurlos voruebergehen wuerde. Kurz ich fuerchte jetzt y es
moechte sehr schwer fuer mich sein mich mit Dir zu verstaendi-
gen. Und der geringe Rest von Hoffnung mein Manuskript
koenne Dir etwas sagen^ ist ganz verschwunden. Einen
Komentar zu meinem Buch zu schreiben, bin ich wie Du Dir
denken kannst, nicht im Stande. Nur muendlich koennte ich
Dir einen geben. Ist Dir irgend an dem Verstaendnis der Sache
etwas gelegen und kannst Du ein Zusammentreffen mit mir be-
"werkstelligen, so, bitte, tue es. Ist dies nicht moeglich, so sei
so gut und schicke das Manuskript so bald Du es gelesen hast
auf sicherem Wege nach Wien zurueck. Es ist das einzige kor-
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
rigierte Exemplar, welches ich besitze und die Arbeit meines
Lebens! Mehr als je brenne ich jetzt darauf es gedruckt zu
sehen. Es ist bitter^ das vollendete Werk in der Gefangenschaft
herumschleppen zu muessen und zu sehen, wir der Unsinn
draussen sein Spiel treibt! Und ebenso bitter ist es zu denken
dass niemand es verstehen wird> auch zvenn es gedruckt sein
w ird! Hast Du mir jemals seit Deinen zwei ersten Karten
geschrieben? Ich habe nichts erhalten.
Sei herzlichst gegruesst und glaube nicht, dass alles Dumm-
heit ist was Du nicht verstehen wirst
Dein treuer,
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
This and the following translations of Wittgenstein's letters
in German are byB.F. McGuinness.
[Cassino
12,6.19]
Dear Russell:
Some days ago I sent you my manuscript, through Keynes's good
offices. I enclosed only a couple of lines for you at the time. Since
then your book has arrived here safely and I now feel a great need
to write you a number of things. I should never have believed
that what I dictated to Moore in Norway six years ago would pass
over you so completely without trace. In short, I am afraid it might
be very difficult for me to reach an understanding with you. And my
small remaining hope that my manuscript would convey something
to you has now quite vanished. Writing a commentary on my book
is out of the question for me, as you can imagine. I could only give
you an oral one. If you attach any importance whatsoever to under-
standing the thing, and if you can arrange a meeting with me,
please do so. If that is impossible, then be so good as to send the
manuscript back to Vienna by a safe route as soon as you have read
it. It is the only corrected copy I possess and it is my life's work! I
long to see it in print, now more than ever. It is bitter to have to lug
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the completed work around with me in captivity and to see nonsense
rampant in the world outside. And it is just as bitter to think that no
one will understand it even if it is printed! Have you written to
me at all since your first two cards? I have received nothing. Kindest
regards, and don't suppose that everything that you worft be able to
understand is a piece of stupidity!
Tours ever^
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
Cassino
19.8.1919
Dear Russell:
Thanks so much for your letter dated 13 August. As to your
queries, I cann't answer them now. For firstly I don't know all-
ways what the numbers refer to, having no copy of the M.S.
here. Secondly some of your questions want a very lengthy an-
swer and you know how difficult it is for me to write on logic.
That's also the reason why my book is so short, and conse-
quently so obscure. But that I cann't help. Now I'm affraid
you haven't really got hold of my main contention, to which the
whole business of logical props is only a corolary. The main
point is the theory of what can be expressed (gesagt) by props
i.e. by linguage ( and, which comes to the same, what
can be thought) and what can not be expressed by props, but
only shown (gezeigt) ; which, I believe, is the cardinal problem
of philosophy.
I also sent my M.S. to Frege. He wrote to me a week ago and
I gather that he doesn't understand a word of it all. So my only
hope is to see you soon and explain all to you, for it is 'very hard
not to be understood by a single sole!
Now the day after tomorrow we shall probably leave the
campo concentramento and go home. Thank God! But how
can we meet as soon as possible. I should like to come to Eng-
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
land, but you can imagine that it's rather awkward for a Ger-
man to travel to England now. (By far more so, than for an
Englishman to travel to Germany. ) But in fact I didn't think of
asking you to come to Vienna now, but it would seem to me
the best thing to meet in Holland or Svitserland. Of cors, if you
cann't come abroad I will do my best to get to England. Please
write to me as soon as possible about this point, letting me
know when you are likely to get the permission of coming
abroad. Please write to Vienna IV Alleegasse 16. As to my
M.S., please send it to the same address; but only if there is an
absolutely safe way of sending it. Otherwise please keep it. I
should be very glad though, to get it soon, as it's the only cor-
rected coppy I've got. My mother wrote to me, she was very
sorry not to have got your letter, but glad that you tried to write
to her at all.
Now write soon. Best wishes.
Ever yours,
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
P.S. After having finished my letter I feel tempted after all to
answer some of your simpler points. . . .*
20.9.20
Lieber Russell!
Dank? Dir fuer Deinen lieben Brief I Ich habe jetzt eine An-
stellung bekommen; und zwar als Volksschullehrer in einem
der kleinsten Doerfer; es heisst Trattenbach und liegt 4 Stunden
suedlich von Wien im Gebirge. Es duerfte -wohl das erste mal
sein, dass der Volksschullehrer von Trattenbach mit einem
Uni-versitaetsprofessor in Peking korrespondiert. Wie geht es
Dir und was traegst Du vor? Philosophic? Dann tvollte ich, ich
koennte zuhoeren und dann mit Dir streiten. Ich war bis vor
* The postscript to this letter has been omitted because of its technical nature. It
can be found in Wittgenstein's Notebooks 1914-1916^ pp. 129-130.
[166]
Russia
kurzem schrecklich bedrueckt und lebensmuede, jetzt aber bin
ich etwas hoffnungsvoller und jetzt hoffe ich auch, dass wir uns
wiedersehen werden.
Gott mit Dir! Und sei herzlichst gegruesst
-von Deinem treuen
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
20.9.20
Dear Russell:
Thank you for your kind letter. I have now obtained a position: I
am to be an elementary-school teacher in a tiny village called Trat-
tenbach. It's in the mountains, about four hours' journey south of
Vienna. It must be the first time that the schoolmaster at Tratten-
bach has ever corresponded with a professor in Peking, How are
you? And what are you lecturing on? Philosophy? If so, I wish I
could be there and could argue with you afterwards. A short while
ago I was terribly depressed and tired of living, but now I am
slightly more hopeful, and one of the things I hope is that well
meet again.
God be with you! Kindest regards.
Yours ever,
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
[Trattenbach]
23.10.21
Lieber Russell!
Verzeih, dass ich Dir erst jetzt auf Deinen Brief aus China
antworte. Ich habe ihn sehr verspaetet erhalten. Er traf mich
nicht in Trattenbach und wurde mir an "verschiedene Orte nach-
geschickt, ohne mich zu erreichen. Es tut mir sehr leid, dass
Du krank warst; und gar schwer! Wie geht es denn jetzt?! Bei
mir hat sich nichts veraendert. Ich bin noch immer in Tratten-
bach und bin nach wie ~oor von Gehaessigkeit und Gemeinheit
umgeben. Es ist wahr, dass die Menschen im Durchschnitt
nirgends sehr "oiel zvert sind; aber hier sind sie viel mehr ah
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
anderswo nichtsnutzig und unverantwortlich. Ich werde viel-
leicht noch dieses Jahr in Trattenbach bleiben, aber laenger
wohl nicht, da ich mich hier auch mil den uebrigen Lehrern
nicht gut vertrage. (Vielleicht wird das wo anders auch nicht
besser sein* ) J<z, das waere schoen, wenn Du mich einmal be-
suchen wolltest! Ich bin froh zu hoeren, dass mein Manuskript
in Sicherheit ist. Wenn es gedruckt wird, tvird's mir auch recht
sein.
Schreib mir bald ein paar Zeilen, wie es Dir geht, etc. etc.
Set herzlich gegruesst
-von Deinem treuen,
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
Empfiehl mich der Miss Black.
[Trattenbach]
23.10.21
Dear Russell:
Forgive me for only now answering your letter from China. I got
it after a very long delay. I wasn't in Trattenbach when it arrived
and it was forwarded to several places before it reached me. I am
very sorry that you have been ill and seriously ill! How are you
now, then? As regards me, nothing has changed. I am still at Trat-
tenbach, surrounded, as ever, by odiousness and baseness. I know
that human beings on the average are not worth much anywhere,
but here they are much more good-for-nothing and irresponsible
than elsewhere. I will perhaps stay on in Trattenbach for the pres-
ent year but probably not any longer, because I don't get on well
here even with the other teachers (perhaps that won't be any better
in another place). Yes, it would be nice indeed, if you would visit
me sometime. I am glad to hear that my manuscript is in safety.
And if it's printed, that will suit me too.
Write me a few lines soon, to say how you are, etc. etc.
Kindest regards,
Tours ever,
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
Remember me to Miss Black.
[168]
Russia
[Trattenbach]
28.11.21
Lieber Russell!
Dank Dir vielmals fuer Deinen lie ben Brief. Ehrlich gest-
anden: es freut mich, doss mein Zeug gedruckt wird. Wenn
auch der Ostwald ein Erzscharlatan ist! Wenn er es nur nicht
-verstuemmelt! Liest Du die Korrekturen? Dann bitte sei so
lieb und gib acht, dass er es genau so druckt, wie es bei mir
steht. Ich traue dem Ostwald zu, dass er die Arbeit nach seinem
Geschmack, etwa nach seiner bloedsinnigen Orthographic, ve-
raendert. Am liebsten ist es mir^ dass die Sache in England
erscheint. Moege sie der -vielen Muehe die Du und andere mit
ihr hatten wuerdig sein!
Du hast recht: nicht die Trattenbacher allein sind schlechter,
als alle uebrigen Menschen; wohl aber ist Trattenbach ein be-
sonders minderwertiger Ort in Oesterreich und die Oester-
reicher sind seit dem Krieg bodenlos tief gesunken, dass
es zu traurig ist, davon zu reden! So ist es. Wenn Du diese
Zeilen kriegst, ist vielleicht schon Dein Kind auf dieser merk-
wuerdigen Welt. Also: ich gratuliere Dir und Deiner Frau
herzlichst. Verzeih, dass ich so lange nicht geschrieben habe;
auch ich bin etwas kraenklich und riesig beschaeftigt. Bitte
schreibe zuieder einmal wenn Du Zeit hast. Von Ostwald habe
ich keinen Brief erhalten. Wenn alles gut geht werde ich Dich
mit tausend Freuden besuchen!
Herzlichste Gruesse,
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
[Trattenbach]
28.11.21
Dear Russell:
Many thanks for your kind letter! I must admit I am pleased that
my stuff is going to be printed. Even though Ostwald* is an utter
charlatan. As long as he doesn't tamper with it! Are you going to
read the proofs? If so, please take care that he prints it exactly as I
have it. He is quite capable of altering the work to suit his own
tastes putting it into his idiotic spelling, for example. What
pleases me most is that the whole thing is going to appear in Eng-
land. I hope it may be worth all the trouble that you and others have
taken with it.
You are right: the Trattenbachers are not uniquely worse than
the rest of the human race. But Trattenbach is a particularly in-
significant place in Austria and the Austrians have sunk so miser-
ably low since the war that it's too dismal to talk about. That's what
it is.
By the time you get this letter your child will perhaps already
have come into this remarkable world. So: warmest congratulations
to you and your wife! Forgive me for not having written to you for
so long. I too haven't been very well and I've been tremendously
busy. Please write again when you have time. I have not had a
letter from Ostwald. If all goes well, I will come and visit you with
the greatest of pleasure.
Kindest regards,
Yours,
LUDWIG WITTGENSTEIN
The International Library of Psychology
Nov. 5, 1921
Dear Russell:
Kegan Paul ask me to give them some formal note for their
files with regard to the Wittgenstein rights.
I enclose, with envelope for your convenience, the sort of
thing I should like. As they can't drop less than 50 on doing it
* Wilhelm Ostwald, editor of Annalen der Naturphilosophie, where the Tractatus
with my Introduction first appeared in 1921.
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Russia
I think it very satisfactory to have got it accepted though of
course if they did a second edition soon and the price of printing
went suddenly down they might get their costs back. I am still a
little uneasy about the title and don't want to feel that we de-
cided in a hurry on Philosophical Logic. If on second thoughts
you are satisfied with it, we can go ahead with that. But you
might be able to excogitate alternatives that I could submit.
Moore's Spinoza title which he thought obvious and ideal is
no use if you feel Wittgenstein wouldn't like it. I suppose his
sub specie aeterni in the last sentences of the book made Moore
think the contrary, and several Latin quotes. But as a selling
title Philosophical Logic is better, if it conveys the right im-
pression.
Looking rapidly over the off print in the train last night, I
was amazed that Nicod and Miss Wrinch had both seemed to
make so very little of it. The main lines seem so reasonable and
intelligible apart from the Types puzzles. I know you are
frightfully busy just at present, but I should very much like to
know why all this account of signs and symbols cannot best be
understood in relation to a thoroughgoing causal theory. I mean
the sort of thing in the enclosed: on "Sign Situations" ( =
Chapter II of the early Synopsis attached). The whole book
which the publishers want to call The Meaning of Meaning is
now passing through the press; and before it is too late we
should like to have discussed it with someone who has seriously
considered Watson. Folk here still don't think there is a prob-
lem of Meaning at all, and though your Analysis of Mind has
disturbed them, everything still remains rather astrological.
With best wishes for, and love to the family,
Tours sincerely,
C. K. OGDEN
P.S. On second thoughts, I think that as you would prefer
Wittgenstein's German to appear as well as the English, it
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
might help if you added the P.S. I have stuck in, and I will
press them further if I can. *
To Ottoline Morrell Hotel Continental
Stockholm
25th June 1920
Dearest O:
I have got thus far on my return, but boats are very full and it
may be a week before I reach England. I left Allen in a nursing
home in Reval, no longer in danger, tho' twice he had been
given up by the Doctors. Partly owing to his illness, but more
because I loathed the Bolsheviks, the time in Russia was infi-
nitely painful to me, in spite of being one of the most interesting
things I have ever done. Bolshevism is a close tyrannical bu-
reaucracy, with a spy system more elaborate and terrible than
the Tsar's, and an aristocracy as insolent and unfeeling, com-
posed of Americanised Jews. No vestige of liberty remains, in
thought or speech or action. I was stifled and oppressed by the
weight of the machine as by a cope of lead. Yet I think it the
right government for Russia at this moment. If you ask yourself
how Dostoevsky's characters should be governed, you will un-
derstand. Yet it is terrible. They are a nation of artists, down to
the simplest peasant; the aim of the Bolsheviks is to make them
industrial and as Yankee as possible. Imagine yourself gov-
erned in every detail by a mixture of Sidney Webb and Rufus
Isaacs, and you will have a picture of modern Russia. I went
hoping to find the promised land.
All love I hope I shall see you soon.
YourE.
* This note now appears at the beginning of the Tractatus.
[172]
Russia
Mrs. E. G. Kerschner
Bei Von Futtkamer
Rudesheimerstr. 3
Wilmersdorf , Berlin
July 8th [1922]
My dear Mr. Russell:
My niece forwarded your kind letter to her of June 17th. I
should have replied earlier, but I was waiting for her arrival, as
I wanted to talk the matter over with her.
Thank you very much for your willingness to assist me. I
daresay, you will meet with very great difficulties. I understand
that the British Foreign Office refused vises to such people as
Max Eastman of the Liberator, and Lincoln Steffens, the jour-
nalist. It is not likely that the Government will be more gracious
tome.
I was rather amused at your phrase "that she will not engage
in the more violent forms of Anarchism?" I know, of course,
that it has been my reputation that I indulged in such forms,
but it has never been borne out by the facts. However, I should
not want to gain my right of asylum in England or any country
by pledging to abstain from the expression of my ideas, or the
right to protest against injustice. The Austrian Government
offered me asylum if I would sign such a pledge. Naturally, I
refused. Life as we live it today is not worth much. I would not
feel it was worth anything if I had to forswear what I believe
and stand for.
Under these conditions, if it is not too great a burden, I
would appreciate any efforts made in my behalf which would
give me the right to come to England. For the present I will
probably get an extension of my vise in Germany because I have
had an offer to write a book on Russia from Harper Bros, of
New York.
No, the Bolsheviki did not compel me to leave Russia. Much
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
to my surprise they gave me passports. They have however
made it difficult for me to obtain vises from other countries.
Naturally they can not endure the criticism contained in the ten
articles I wrote for the New York World, in April last, after
leaving Russia.
Very sincerely yours,
EMMA GOLDMAN
Emma Goldman did at last acquire permission to come to
England. A dinner -was given in her honour at which I -was
present. When she rose to speak, she was -welcomed enthusiasti-
cally; but when she sat down, there was dead silence. This was
because almost the whole of her speech was against the Bolshe-
viks.
[174]
Ill
China
WE travelled to China from Marseilles in a French boat
called Port os. Just before we left London, we learned
that, owing to a case of plague on board, the sailing would be
delayed for three weeks. We did not feel, however, that we
could go through all the business of saying goodbye a second
time, so we went to Paris and spent the three weeks there. Dur-
ing this time I finished my book on Russia, and decided, after
much hesitation, that I would publish it. To say anything
against Bolshevism was, of course, to play into the hands of
reaction, and most of my friends took the view that one ought
not to say what one thought about Russia unless what one
thought was favourable. I had, however, been impervious to
similar arguments from patriots during the War, and it seemed
to me that in the long run no good purpose would be served by
holding one's tongue. The matter was, of course, much compli-
cated for me by the question of my personal relations with
Dora. One hot summer night, after she had gone to sleep, I got
up and sat on the balcony of our room and contemplated the
stars. I tried to see the question without the heat of party pas-
sion and imagined myself holding a conversation with Cassi-
opeia. It seemed to me that I should be more in harmony with
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
the stars if I published what I thought about Bolshevism than if
I did not. So I went on with the work and finished the book on
the night before we started for Marseilles.
The bulk of our time in Paris, however, was spent in a more
frivolous manner, buying frocks suitable for the Red Sea, and
the rest of the trousseau required for unofficial marriage. After
a few days in Paris, all the appearance of estrangement which
had existed between us ceased, and we became gay and light-
hearted. There were, however, moments on the boat when
things were difficult. I was sensitive because of the contempt
that Dora had poured on my head for not liking Russia. I sug-
gested to her that we had made a mistake in coming away to-
gether, and that the best way out would be to jump into the sea.
This mood, however, which was largely induced by the heat,
soon passed.
The voyage lasted five or six weeks, so that one got to know
one's fellow-passengers pretty well. The French people mostly
belonged to the official classes. They were much superior to the
English, who were rubber planters and business men. There
were rows between the English and the French, in which we
had to act as mediators. On one occasion the English asked me
to give an address about Soviet Russia. In view of the sort of
people that they were, I said only favourable things about the
Soviet Government, so there was nearly a riot, and when we
reached Shanghai our English fellow-passengers sent a telegram
to the Consulate General in Peking, urging that we should not
be allowed to land. We consoled ourselves with the thought of
what had befallen the ring-leader among our enemies at Saigon.
There was at Saigon an elephant whose keeper sold bananas
which the visitors gave to the elephant. We each gave him a
banana, and he made us a very elegant bow, but our enemy re-
fused, whereupon the elephant squirted dirty water all over his
immaculate clothes, which also the keeper had taught him to
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China
do. Perhaps our amusement at this incident did not increase his
love of us.
When we arrived at Shanghai there was at first no-one to
meet us. I had had from the first a dark suspicion that the invi-
tation might be a practical joke, and in order to test its genuine-
ness I had got the Chinese to pay my passage money before I
started. I thought that few people would spend 125 on a joke,
but when nobody appeared at Shanghai our fears revived, and
we began to think we might have to creep home with our tails
between our legs. It turned out, however, that our friends had
only made a little mistake as to the time of the boat's arrival.
They soon appeared on board and took us to a Chinese hotel,
where we passed three of the most bewildering days that I have
ever experienced. There was at first some difficulty in explain-
ing about Dora. They got the impression that she was my wife,
and when we said that this was not the case, they were afraid
that I should be annoyed about their previous misconception. I
told them that I wished her treated as my wife, and they pub-
lished a statement to that effect in the Chinese papers. From the
first moment to the last of our stay in China, every Chinese with
whom we came in contact treated her with the most complete
and perfect courtesy, and with exactly the same deference as
would have been paid to her if she had been in fact my wife.
They did this in spite of the fact that we insisted upon her al-
ways being called "Miss Black."
Our time in Shanghai was spent in seeing endless people,
Europeans, Americans, Japanese, and Koreans, as well as Chi-
nese. In general the various people who came to see us were not
on speaking terms with each other; for instance, there could be
no social relations between the Japanese and the Korean Chris-
tians who had been exiled for bomb-throwing. ( In Korea at that
time a Christian was practically synonymous with a bomb-
thrower. ) So we had to put our guests at separate tables in the
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
public room, and move round from table to table throughout the
day. We had also to attend an enormous banquet, at which vari-
ous Chinese made after-dinner speeches in the best English
style, with exactly the type of joke which is demanded of such
an occasion. It was our first experience of the Chinese, and we
were somewhat surprised by their wit and fluency. I had not
realized until then that a civilized Chinese is the most civilized
person in the world. Sun Yat-sen invited me to dinner, but to my
lasting regret the evening he suggested was after my departure,
and I had to refuse. Shortly after this he went to Canton to inau-
gurate the nationalist movement which afterwards conquered
the whole country, and as I was unable to go to Canton, I never
met him.
Our Chinese friends took us for two days to Hangchow to see
the Western Lake. The first day we went round it by boat, and
the second day in chairs. It was marvellously beautiful, with the
beauty of ancient civilization, surpassing even that of Italy.
From there we went to Nanking, and from Nanking by boat to
Hankow. The days on the Yangtse were as delightful as the
days on the Volga had been horrible. From Hankow we went to
Changsha, where an educational conference was in progress.
They wished us to stay there for a week, and give addresses
every day, but we were both exhausted and anxious for a chance
to rest, which made us eager to reach Peking. So we refused to
stay more than twenty-four hours, in spite of the fact that the
Governor of Hunan in person held out every imaginable induce-
ment, including a special train all the way to Wuchang.
However, in order to do my best to conciliate the people of
Changsha, I gave four lectures, two after-dinner speeches, and
an after-lunch speech, during the twenty-four hours. Changsha
was a place without modern hotels, and the missionaries very
kindly offered to put us up, but they made it clear that Dora was
to stay with one set of missionaries, and I with another. We
[180]
China
therefore thought it best to decline their invitation, and stayed
at a Chinese hotel. The experience was not altogether pleasant.
Annies of bugs walked across the bed all through the night.
The Tuchun* gave a magnificent banquet, at which we first
met the Deweys, who behaved with great kindness, and later,
when I became ill, John Dewey treated us both with singular
helpfulness. I was told that when he came to see me in the hos-
pital, he was much touched by my saying, "We must make a
plan for peace" at a time when everything else that I said was
delirium. There were about a hundred guests at the Tuchun's
banquet. We assembled in one vast hall and then moved into
another for the feast, which was sumptuous beyond belief. In
the middle of it the Tuchun apologized for the extreme simplic-
ity of the fare, saying that he thought we should like to see how
they lived in everyday life rather than to be treated with any
pomp. To my intense chagrin, I was unable to think of a retort
in kind, but I hope the interpreter made up for my lack of wit.
We left Changsha in the middle of a lunar eclipse, and saw
bonfires being lit and heard gongs beaten to frighten off the
Heavenly Dog, according to the traditional ritual of China on
such occasions. From Changsha, we travelled straight through
to Peking, where we enjoyed our first wash for ten days.
Our first months in Peking were a time of absolute and com-
plete happiness. All the difficulties and disagreements that we
had had were completely forgotten. Our Chinese friends were
delightful. The work was interesting, and Peking itself incon-
ceivably beautiful.
We had a house boy, a male cook and a rickshaw boy. The
house boy spoke some English and it was through him. that we
made ourselves intelligible to the others. This process suc-
ceeded better than it would have done in England. We engaged
the cook sometime before we came to live in our house and told
* The military Governor of the Province.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
him that the first meal we should want would be dinner some
days hence. Sure enough, when the time came, dinner was
ready. The house boy knew everything. One day we were in
need of change and we had hidden what we believed to be a
dollar in an old table. We described its whereabouts to the
house boy and asked him to fetch it. He replied imperturbably,
"No, Madam. He bad." We also had the occasional services of a
sewing woman. We engaged her in the winter and dispensed
with her services in the summer. We were amused to observe
that while, in winter, she had been very fat, as the weather grew
warm, she became gradually very thin, having replaced the
thick garments of winter gradually by the elegant garments of
summer. We had to furnish our house which we did from the
very excellent second-hand furniture shops which abounded in
Peking. Our Chinese friends could not understand our prefer-
ring old Chinese things to modern furniture from Birmingham.
We had an official interpreter assigned to look after us. His
English was very good and he was especially proud of his abil-
ity to make puns in English. His name was Mr. Chao and,
when I showed him an article that I had written called "Causes
of the Present Chaos," he remarked, "Well, I suppose, the
causes of the present Chaos are the previous Chaos." I became a
close friend of his in the course of our journeys. He was en-
gaged to a Chinese girl and I was able to remove some difficul-
ties that had impeded his marriage. I still hear from him occa-
sionally and once or twice he and his wife have come to see me
in England.
I was very busy lecturing, and I also had a seminar of the
more advanced students. All of them were Bolsheviks except
one, who was the nephew of the Emperor. They used to slip
off to Moscow one by one. They were charming youths, ingenu-
ous and intelligent at the same time, eager to know the world
and to escape from the trammels of Chinese tradition. Most of
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China
them had been betrothed in infancy to old-fashioned girls, and
were troubled by the ethical question whether they would be
justified in breaking the betrothal to marry some girl of modern
education. The gulf between the old China and the new was
vast, and family bonds were extraordinarily irksome for the
modern-minded young man. Dora used to go to the Girls' Nor-
mal School, where those who were to be teachers were being
trained. They would put to her every kind of question about
marriage, free love, contraception, etc., and she answered all
their questions with complete frankness. Nothing of the sort
would have been possible in any similar European institution.
In spite of their freedom of thought, traditional habits of behav-
iour had a great hold upon them. We occasionally gave parties
to the young men of my seminar and the girls at the Normal
School. The girls at first would take refuge in a room to which
they supposed no men would penetrate, and they had to be
fetched out and encouraged to associate with males. It must be
said that when once the ice was broken, no further encourage-
ment was needed.
The National University of Peking for which I lectured was
a very remarkable institution. The Chancellor and the Vice-
Chancellor were men passionately devoted to the modernizing
of China. The Vice-Chancellor was one of the most whole-
hearted idealists that I have ever known. The funds which
should have gone to pay salaries were always being appropriated
by Tuchuns, so that the teaching was mainly a labour of love.
The students deserved what their professors had to give them.
They were ardently desirous of knowledge, and there was no
limit to the sacrifices that they were prepared to make for their
country. The atmosphere was electric with the hope of a great
awakening. After centuries of slumber, China was becoming
aware of the modern world, and at that time the sordidnesses
and compromises that go with governmental responsibility had
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
not yet descended upon the reformers. The English sneered at
the reformers, and said that China would always be China.
They assured me that it was silly to listen to the frothy talk of
half-baked young men; yet within a few years those half-baked
young men had conquered China and deprived the English of
many of their most cherished privileges.
Since the advent of the Communists to power in China, the
policy of the British towards that country has been somewhat
more enlightened than that of the United States, but until that
time the exact opposite was the case. In 1926, on three several
occasions, British troops fired on unarmed crowds of Chinese
students, killing and wounding many. I wrote a fierce denunci-
ation of these outrages, which was published first in England
and then throughout China. An American missionary in China,
with whom I corresponded, came to England shortly after this
time, and told me that indignation in China had been such as to
endanger the lives of all Englishmen living in that country. He
even said though I found this scarcely credible that the
English in China owed their preservation to me, since I had
caused infuriated Chinese to conclude that not all Englishmen
are vile. However that may be, I incurred the hostility, not only
of the English in China, but of the British Government.
White men in China were ignorant of many things that were
common knowledge among the Chinese. On one occasion my
bank (which was American) gave me notes issued by a French
bank, and I found that Chinese tradesmen refused to accept
them. My bank expressed astonishment, and gave me other
notes instead. Three months later, the French bank went bank-
rupt, to the surprise of all other white banks in China.
The Englishman in the East, as far as I was able to judge of
him, is a man completely out of touch with his environment. He
plays polo and goes to his club. He derives his ideas of native
culture from the works of eighteenth-century missionaries, and
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China
he regards intelligence in the East with the same contempt
which he feels for intelligence in his own country. Unfortu-
nately for our political sagacity, he overlooks the fact that in the
East intelligence is respected, so that enlightened Radicals have
an influence upon affairs which is denied to their English coun-
terparts. MacDonald went to Windsor in knee-breeches, but the
Chinese reformers showed no such respect to their Emperor,
although our monarchy is a mushroom growth of yesterday
compared to that of China.
My views as to what should be done in China I put into my
book The Problem of China and so shall not repeat them here.
In spite of the fact that China was in a ferment, it appeared to
us, as compared with Europe, to be a country filled with philo-
sophic calm. Once a week the mail would arrive from England,
and the letters and newspapers that came from there seemed to
breathe upon us a hot blast of insanity like the fiery heat that
comes from a furnace door suddenly opened. As we had to work
on Sundays, we made a practice of taking a holiday on Mon-
days, and we usually spent the whole day in the Temple of
Heaven, the most beautiful building that it has ever been my
good fortune to see. We would sit in the winter sunshine saying
little, gradually absorbing peace, and would come away pre-
pared to face the madness and passion of our own distracted
continent with poise and calm. At other times, we used to walk
on the walls of Peking. I remember with particular vividness a
walk one evening starting at sunset and continuing through the
rise of the full moon.
The Chinese have (or had) a sense of humour which I found
very congenial. Perhaps communism has killed it, but when I
was there they constantly reminded me of the people in their
ancient books. One hot day two fat middle-aged business men
invited me to motor into the country to see a certain very famous
half-ruined pagoda. When we reached it, I climbed the spiral
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
staircase, expecting them to follow, but on arriving at the top I
saw them still on the ground. I asked why they had not come
up, and with portentous gravity they replied:
"We thought of coming up, and debated whether we should
do so. Many weighty arguments were advanced on both sides,
but at last there was one which decided us. The pagoda might
crumble at any moment, and we felt that, if it did, it would be
well there should be those who could bear witness as to how the
philosopher died.' 7
What they meant was that it was hot and they were fat.
Many Chinese have that refinement of humour which con-
sists in enjoying a joke more when the other person cannot see
it. As I was leaving Peking a Chinese friend gave me a long
classical passage microscopically engraved by hand on a very
small surface; he also gave me the same passage written out in
exquisite calligraphy. When I asked what it said, he replied:
"Ask Professor Giles when you get home." I took his advice,
and found that it was "The Consultation of the Wizard," in
which the wizard merely advises his clients to do whatever they
like. He was poking fun at me because I always refused to give
advice to the Chinese as to their immediate political difficulties.
The climate of Peking in winter is very cold. The wind blows
almost always from the north, bringing an icy breath from the
Mongolian mountains. I got bronchitis, but paid no attention to
it. It seemed to get better, and one day, at the invitation of some
Chinese friends, we went to a place about two hours by motor-
car from Peking, where there were hot springs. The hotel pro-
vided a very good tea, and someone suggested that it was
unwise to eat too much tea as it would spoil one's dinner. I ob-
jected to such prudence on the ground that the Day of Judg-
ment might intervene. I was right, as it was three months before
I ate another square meal. After tea, I suddenly began to shiver,
and after I had been shivering for an hour or so, we decided that
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we had better get back to Peking at once. On the way home, our
car had a puncture, and by the time the puncture was mended,
the engine was cold. By this time, I was nearly delirious, but the
Chinese servants and Dora pushed the car to the top of a hill,
and on the descent the engine gradually began to work. Owing
to the delay, the gates of Peking were shut when we reached
them, and it took an hour of telephoning to get them open. By
the time we finally got home, I was very ill indeed. Before I had
time to realize what was happening, I was delirious. I was
moved into a German hospital, where Dora nursed me by day,
and the only English professional nurse in Peking nursed me by
night. For a fortnight the doctors thought every evening that I
should be dead before morning. I remember nothing of this
time except a few dreams. When I came out of delirium, I did
not know where I was, and did not recognize the nurse. Dora
told me that I had been very ill and nearly died, to which I re-
plied: "How interesting, 7 ' but I was so weak that I forgot it in
five minutes, and she had to tell me again. I could not even re-
member my own name. But although for about a month after
my delirium had ceased they kept telling me I might die at any
moment, I never believed a word of it. The nurse whom they
had found was rather distinguished in her profession, and had
been the Sister in charge of a hospital in Serbia during the War.
The whole hospital had been captured by the Germans, and the
nurses removed to Bulgaria. She was never tired of telling me
how intimate she had become with the Queen of Bulgaria. She
was a deeply religious woman, and told me when I began to get
better that she had seriously considered whether it was not her
duty to let me die. Fortunately, professional training was too
strong for her moral sense.
All through the time of my convalescence, in spite of weak-
ness and great physical discomfort, I was exceedingly happy.
Dora was very devoted, and her devotion made me forget every-
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
thing unpleasant. At an early stage of my convalescence Dora
discovered that she was pregnant, and this was a source of im-
mense happiness to us both. Ever since the moment when I
walked on Richmond Green with Alys, the desire for children
had been growing stronger and stronger within me, until at last
it had become a consuming passion. When I discovered that I
was not only to survive myself, but to have a child, I became
completely indifferent to the circumstances of convalescence, al-
though, during convalescence, I had a whole series of minor
diseases. The main trouble had been double pneumonia, but in
addition to that I had heart disease, kidney disease, dysentery,
and phlebitis. None of these, however, prevented me from feel-
ing perfectly happy, and in spite of all gloomy prognostications,
no ill effects whatever remained after my recovery.
Lying in my bed feeling that I was not going to die was sur-
prisingly delightful. I had always imagined until then that I
was fundamentally pessimistic and did not greatly value being
alive. I discovered that in this I had been completely mistaken,
and that life was infinitely sweet to me. Rain in Peking is rare,
but during my convalescence there came heavy rains bringing
the delicious smell of damp earth through the windows, and I
used to think how dreadful it would have been to have never
smelt that smell again. I had the same feeling about the light of
the sun, and the sound of the wind. Just outside my windows
were some very beautiful acacia trees, which came into blossom
at the first moment when I was well enough to enjoy them. I
have known ever since that at bottom I am glad to be alive.
Most people, no doubt, always know this, but I did not.
I was told that the Chinese said that they would bury me by
the Western Lake and build a shrine to my memory. I have
some slight regret that this did not happen, as I might have
become a god, which would have been very chic for an atheist.
There was in Peking at that time a Soviet diplomatic mis-
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China
sion, whose members showed great kindness. They had the only
good champagne in Peking, and supplied it liberally for my use,
champagne being apparently the only proper beverage for
pneumonia patients. They used to take first Dora, and later
Dora and me, for motor drives in the neighbourhood of Peking.
This was a pleasure, but a somewhat exciting one, as they were
as bold in driving as they were in revolutions.
I probably owe my life to the Rockefeller Institute in Peking
which provided a serum that killed the pneumococci. I owe
them the more gratitude on this point, as both before and after I
was strongly opposed to them politically, and they regarded me
with as much horror as was felt by my nurse.
The Japanese journalists were continually worrying Dora to
give them interviews when she wanted to be nursing me. At last
she became a little curt with them, so they caused the Japanese
newspapers to say that I was dead. This news was forwarded
by mail from Japan to America and from America to England.
It appeared in the English newspapers on the same day as the
news of my divorce. Fortunately, the Court did not believe it, or
the divorce might have been postponed. It provided me with the
pleasure of reading my obituary notices, which I had always
desired without expecting my wishes to be fulfilled. One mis-
sionary paper, I remember, had an obituary notice of one sen-
tence: "Missionaries may be pardoned for heaving a sigh of re-
lief at the news of Mr. Bertrand Russell's death." I fear they
must have heaved a sigh of a different sort when they found that
I was not dead after all. The report caused some pain to friends
in England. We in Peking knew nothing about it until a tele-
gram came from my brother enquiring whether I was still alive.
He had been remarking meanwhile that to die in Peking was
not the sort of thing I would do.
The most tedious stage of my convalescence was when I had
phlebitis, and had to lie motionless on my back for six weeks.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
We were very anxious to return home for the confinement, and
as time went on it began to seem doubtful whether we should be
able to do so. In these circumstances it was difficult not to feel
impatience, the more so as the doctors said there was nothing to
do but wait. However, the trouble cleared up just in time, and
on July 10th we were able to leave Peking, though I was still
very weak and could only hobble about with the help of a stick.
Shortly after my return from China, the British Government
decided to deal with the question of the Boxer indemnity. When
the Boxers had been defeated, the subsequent treaty of peace
provided that the Chinese Government should pay an annual
sum to all those European Powers which had been injured by it.
The Americans very wisely decided to forego any payment on
this account. Friends of China in England urged England in
vain to do likewise. At last it was decided that, instead of a
punitive payment, the Chinese should make some payment
which should be profitable to both China and Britain. What
form this payment should take was left to be determined by a
Committee on which there should be two Chinese members.
While MacDonald was Prime Minister he invited Lowes Dick-
inson and me to be members of the Committee, and consented to
our recommendation of V. K. Ting and Hu Shih as the Chinese
members. When, shortly afterwards, MacDonald's Govern-
ment fell, the succeeding Conservative Government informed
Lowes Dickinson and myself that our services would not be
wanted on the Committee, and they would not accept either
V. K. Ting or Hu Shih as Chinese members of it, on the ground
that we knew nothing about China. The Chinese Government
replied that it desired the two Chinese whom I had recom-
mended and would not have anyone else. This put an end to the
very feeble efforts at securing Chinese friendship. The only
thing that had been secured during the Labour period of friend-
ship was that Shantung should become a golf course for the
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British Navy and should no longer be open for Chinese trading.
Before I became ill I had undertaken to do a lecture tour in
Japan after leaving China. I had to cut this down to one lecture,
and visits to various people. We spent twelve hectic days in Ja-
pan, days which were far from pleasant, though very interest-
ing. Unlike the Chinese, the Japanese proved to be destitute of
good manners, and incapable of avoiding intrusiveness. Owing
to my being still very feeble, we were anxious to avoid all un-
necessary fatigues, but the journalists proved a very difficult
matter. At the first port at which our boat touched, some thirty
journalists were lying in wait, although we had done our best to
travel secretly, and they only discovered our movements
through the police. As the Japanese papers had refused to con-
tradict the news of my death, Dora gave each of them a type-
written slip saying that as I was dead I could not be inter-
viewed. They drew in their breath through their teeth and said:
"Ah! veree funnee!"
We went first to Kobe to visit Robert Young, the editor of the
Japan Chronicle. As the boat approached the quay, we saw vast
processions with banners marching along, and to the surprise of
those who knew Japanese, some of the banners were expressing
a welcome to me. It turned out that there was a great strike
going on in the dockyards, and that the police would not toler-
ate processions except in honour of distinguished foreigners, so
that this was their only way of making a demonstration. The
strikers were being led by a Christian pacifist called Kagawa,
who took me to strike meetings, at one of which I made a
speech. Robert Young was a delightful man, who, having left
England in the 'eighties, had not shared in the subsequent dete-
rioration of ideas. He had in his study a large picture of Brad-
laugh, for whom he had a devoted admiration. His was, I think,
the best newspaper I have ever known, and he had started it
with a capital of 10, saved out of his wages as a compositor.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
He took me to Nara, a place of exquisite beauty, where Old
Japan was still to be seen. We then fell into the hands of the
enterprising editors of an up-to-date magazine called Kaizo,
who conducted us around Kyoto and Tokyo, taking care always
to let the journalists know when we were coming, so that we
were perpetually pursued by flashlights and photographed even
in our sleep. In both places they invited large numbers of pro-
fessors to visit us. In both places we were treated with the ut-
most obsequiousness and dogged by police-spies. The room
next to ours in the hotel would be occupied by a collection of
policemen with a typewriter. The waiters treated us as if we
were royalty, and walked backwards out of the room. We
would say: "Damn this waiter," and immediately hear the po-
lice typewriter clicking. At the parties of professors which were
given in our honour, as soon as I got into at all animated con-
versation with anyone, a flashlight photograph would be taken,
with the result that the conversation was of course interrupted.
The Japanese attitude towards women is somewhat primi-
tive. In Kyoto we both had mosquito nets with holes in them, so
that we were kept awake half the night by mosquitoes. I com-
plained of this in the morning. Next evening my mosquito net
was mended, but not Dora's. When I complained again the next
day, they said: "But we did not know it mattered about the
lady." Once, when we were in a suburban train with the histo-
rian Eileen Power, who was also travelling in Japan, no seats
were available, but a Japanese kindly got up and offered his seat
to me. I gave it to Dora. Another Japanese then offered me his
seat. I gave this to Eileen Power. By this time the Japanese
were so disgusted by my unmanly conduct that there was nearly
a riot.
We met only one Japanese whom we really liked, a Miss Ito.
She was young and beautiful, and lived with a well-known an-
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China
archist, by whom she had a son. Dora said to her: "Are you not
afraid that the authorities will do something to you?" She drew
her hand across her throat, and said: "I know they will do that
sooner or later." At the time of the earthquake, the police came
to the house where she lived with the anarchist, and found him
and her and a little nephew whom they believed to be the son,
and informed them that they were wanted at the police station.
When they arrived at the police station, the three were put in
separate rooms and strangled by the police, who boasted that
they had not had much trouble with the child, as they had man-
aged to make friends with him on the way to the police station.
The police in question became national heroes, and school chil-
dren were set to write essays in their praise.
We made a ten hours 7 journey in great heat from Kyoto to
Yokohama. We arrived there just after dark, and were received
by a series of magnesium explosions, each of which made Dora
jump, and increased my fear of a miscarriage. I became blind
with rage, the only time I have been so since I tried to strangle
FitzGerald.* I pursued the boys with the flashlights, but being
lame, was unable to catch them, which was fortunate, as I
should certainly have committed murder. An enterprising pho-
tographer succeeded in photographing me with my eyes blaz-
ing. I should not have known that I could have looked so com-
pletely insane. This photograph was my introduction to Tokyo.
I felt at that moment the same type of passion as must have
been felt by Anglo-Indians during the Mutiny, or by white men
surrounded by a rebel coloured population. I realized then that
the desire to protect one's family from injury at the hands of an
alien race is probably the wildest and most passionate feeling of
which man is capable. My last experience of Japan was the pub-
lication in a patriotic journal of what purported to be my fare-
* Cf. Vol. I, p. 52.
[193]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
well message to the Japanese nation, urging them to be more
chauvinistic. I had not sent either this or any other farewell
message to that or any other newspaper.
We sailed from Yokohama by the Canadian Pacific, and
were seen off by the anarchist, Ozuki, and Miss Ito. On the Em-
press of Asia we experienced a sudden change in the social at-
mosphere. Dora's condition was not yet visible to ordinary eyes,
but we saw the ship's doctor cast a professional eye upon her,
and we learned that he had communicated his observations to
the passengers. Consequently, almost nobody would speak to
us, though everybody was anxious to photograph us. The only
people willing to speak to us were Mischa Elman, the violinist,
and his party. As everybody else on the ship wished to speak to
him, they were considerably annoyed by the fact that he was
always in our company. After an uneventful journey, we arrived
in Liverpool at the end of August. It was raining hard, and
everybody complained of the drought, so we felt we had reached
home. Dora's mother was on the dock, partly to welcome us, but
partly to give Dora wise advice, which she was almost too shy
to do. On September 27th we were married, having succeeded
in hurrying up the King's Proctor, though this required that I
should swear by Almighty God on Charing Cross platform that
Dora was the woman with whom I had committed the official
adultery. On November 16th, my son John was born, and from
that moment my children were for many years my main interest
in life.
[194]
China
LETTERS
6 Yu Yang Li
Avenue Joff re
Shanghai, China
6th Oct. [? Nov.] 1920
Dear Sir:
We are very glad to have the greatest social philosopher of
world to arrive here in China, so as to salve the Chronic des-
eases of the thought of Chinese Students. Since 1919, the stu-
dent's circle seems to be the greatest hope of the future of
China; as they are ready to welcome to have revolutionary era in
the society of China. In that year, Dr. John Dewey had influ-
enced the intellectual class with great success.
But I dare to represent most of the Chinese Students to say a
few words to you:
Although Dr. Dewey is successful here, but most of our stu-
dents are not satisfied with his conservative theory. Because
most of us want to acquire the knowledge of Anarchism, Syndi-
calism, Socialism, etc.; in a word, we are anxious to get the
knowledge of the social revolutionary philosophy. We are the
followers of Mr. Kropotkin, and our aim is to have an anarchi-
cal society in China. We hope you, Sir, to give us fundamen-
tally the thorough Social philosophy, base on Anarchism.
Moreover, we want you to recorrect the theory of Dr. Dewey,
the American Philosopher. We hope you have the absolute free-
dom in China, not the same as in England. So we hope you to
have a greater success than Dr. Dewey here.
I myself am old member of the Peking Govt University, and
met you in Shanghai many times, the first time is in "The Great
Oriental Hotel," the first time of your reception here, in the eve-
ning.
The motto, you often used, of Lao-Tzu ought to be changed
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
in the first word, as "Creation without Possession . . ." is bet-
ter than the former translative; and it is more correctly accord-
ing to what you have said: "the creative impulsive and the pos-
sessive impulse." Do you think it is right?
Your Fraternally Comrade,
JOHNSON YUAN
(Secretary of the Chinese Anar-
chist-Communist Association)
Changsha
October llth, 1920
Dear Sir:
We beg to inform you that the educational system of our
province is just at infancy and is unfortunately further week-
ened by the fearful disturbances of the civil war of late years, so
that the guidance and assistances must be sought to sagacious
scholars.
The extent to which your moral and intellectual power has
reached is so high that all the people of this country are paying
the greatest regard to you. We, Hunanese, eagerly desire to
hear your powerful instructions as a compass*
A few days ago, through Mr. Lee-Shuh-Tseng, our repre-
sentative at Shanghai, we requested you to visit Hunan and are
very grateful to have your kind acceptance. A general meeting
will therefore be summoned on the 25th instant in order to re-
ceive your instructive advices. Now we appoint Mr. Kun-Chao-
Shuh to represent us all to welcome you sincerely. Please come
as soon as possible.
We are, Sir,
Tour obedient servants,
THE GENERAL EDUCATIONAL
ASSOCIATION OF HUNAN
(Seal)
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China
To The Nation I wrote the following account on the Yiangtse,
28th October, 1920:*
Since landing in China we have had a most curious and inter-
esting time, spent, so far, entirely among Chinese students and
journalists, who are more or less Europeanised. I have delivered
innumerable lectures on Einstein, education and social ques-
tions. The eagerness for knowledge on the part of students is
quite extraordinary. When one begins to speak, their eyes have
the look of starving men beginning a feast. Everywhere they
treat me with a most embarrassing respect. The day after I
landed in Shanghai they gave a vast dinner to us, at which they
welcomed me as Confucius the Second. All the Chinese news-
papers that day in Shanghai had my photograph. Both Miss
Black and I had to speak to innumerable schools, teachers' con-
ferences, congresses, etc. It is a country of curious contrasts.
Most of Shanghai is quite European, almost American; the
names of streets, and notices and advertisements are in English
(as well as Chinese) . The buildings are magnificent offices and
banks; everything looks very opulent. But the side streets are
still quite Chinese. It is a vast city about the size of Glasgow,
The Europeans almost all look villainous and ill. One of the
leading Chinese newspapers invited us to lunch, in a modern
building, completed in 1917, with all the latest plant (except
linotype, which can't be used for Chinese characters) . The edi-
torial staff gave us a Chinese meal at the top of the house with
Chinese wine made of rice, and innumerable dishes which we
ate with chopsticks. When we had finished eating they re-
marked that one of their number was fond of old Chinese music,
and would like to play to us. So he produced an instrument with
seven strings, made by himself on the ancient model, out of
black wood two thousand years old, which he had taken from a
temple. The instrument is played with the finger, like a guitar,
* Published in The Nation, January 8th, 1921.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
but is laid flat on a table, not held in the hand. They assured us
that the music he played was four thousand years old, but that I
imagine must be an overstatement. In any case, it was exquis-
itely beautiful, very delicate, easier for a European ear than
more recent music (of which I have heard a good deal) . When
the music was over they became again a staff of bustling jour-
nalists.
From Shanghai our Chinese friends took us for three nights
to Hangchow on the Western Lake, said to be the most beauti-
ful scenery in China. This was merely holiday. The Western
Lake is not large about the size of Grasmere it is sur-
rounded by wooded hills, on which there are innumerable pa-
godas and temples. It has been beautified by poets and emperors
for thousands of years. (Apparently poets in ancient China
were as rich as financiers in modern Europe. ) We spent one
day in the hills a twelve hour expedition in Sedan chairs
and the next in seeing country houses, monasteries, etc. on is-
lands in the lake.
Chinese religion is curiously cheerful. When one arrives at a
temple, they give one a cigarette and a cup of delicately fragrant
tea. Then they show one round. Buddhism, which one thinks of
as ascetic, is here quite gay. The saints have fat stomachs, and
are depicted as people who thoroughly enjoy life. No one seems
to believe the religion, not even the priests. Nevertheless, one
sees many rich new temples.
The country houses are equally hospitable one is shewn
round and given tea. They are just like Chinese pictures, with
many arbours where one can sit, with everything made for
beauty and nothing for comfort except in the grandest
rooms, where there will be a little hideous European furniture.
The most delicious place we saw on the Western Lake was a
retreat for scholars, built about eight hundred years ago on the
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lake. Scholars certainly had a pleasant life in the old China.
Apart from the influence of Europeans, China makes the im-
pression of what Europe would have become if the eighteenth
century had gone on till now without industrialism or the
French Revolution. People seem to be rational hedonists, know-
ing very well how to obtain happiness, exquisite through in-
tense cultivation of their artistic sensibilities, differing from Eu-
ropeans through the fact that they prefer enjoyment to power.
People laugh a great deal in all classes, even the lowest.
The Chinese cannot pronounce my name, or write it in their
characters. They call me "Luo-Su" which is the nearest they
can manage. This, they can both pronounce and print.
From Hangchow we went back to Shanghai, thence by rail to
Nanking, an almost deserted city. The wall is twenty-three
miles in circumference, but most of what it encloses is country.
The city was destroyed at the end of the Taiping rebellion, and
again injured in the Revolution of 1911, but it is an active edu-
cational centre, eager for news of Einstein and Bolshevism.
From Nanking we went up the Yiangtse to Hangkow, about
three days' journey, through very lovely scenery thence by
train to Cheng-Sha, the capital of Hu-Nan, where a great edu-
cational conference was taking place. There are about three
hundred Europeans in Cheng-Sha, but Europeanisation has not
gone at all far. The town is just like a mediaeval town nar-
row streets, every house a shop with a gay sign hung out, no
traffic possible except Sedan chairs and a few rickshaws. The
Europeans have a few factories, a few banks, a few missions
and a hospital the whole gamut of damaging and repairing
body and soul by western methods. The Governor of Hu-Nan is
the most virtuous of all the Governors of Chinese provinces, and
entertained us last night at a magnificent banquet. Professor
and Mrs. Dewey were present; it was the first time I had met
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
them. The Governor cannot talk any European language, so,
though I sat next to him, I could only exchange compliments
through an interpreter. But I got a good impression of him; he
is certainly very anxious to promote education, which seems the
most crying need of China. Without it, it is hard to see how
better government can be introduced. It must be said that bad
government seems somewhat less disastrous in China than it
would be in a European nation, but this is perhaps a superficial
impression which time may correct.
We are now on our way to Pekin, which we hope to reach on
October 31st.
BERTRAND RUSSELL
Tokyo, Japan
December 25, 1920
Dear Sir:
We heartily thank you for your esteemed favour of the latest
date and also for the manuscript on "The Prospects of Bolshe-
vik Russia," which has just arrived.
When a translation of your article on "Patriotism" appeared
in our New Year issue of the Kaizo now already on sale, the
blood of the young Japanese was boiled with enthusiasm to
read it. All the conversations everywhere among gentlemen
classes, students and laborers centered upon your article, so
great was the attraction of your thoughts to them.
The only regret was that the government has requested us to
omit references you made to Japan in your article as much as
possible, and we were obliged to cut out some of your valuable
sentences. We trust that you will generously sympathize with
us in the position in which we are placed and that you will ex-
cuse us for complying with the government's request.
Hereafter, however, we shall publish your articles in the orig-
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China
inal as well as in a translation according the dictate of our prin-
ciple.
The admiration for you of the millions of our young men
here is something extraordinary.
Your principle is identical with that of ourselves, so that as
long as we live we wish to be with you. But that our country is
still caught in the obstinate conventional mesh of 3,000 years
standing, so that reforms cannot be carried out, is a cause of
great regret. We have to advance step by step. Your publica-
tions have served as one of the most important factors to move
our promising young men of Japan in their steadfast advance-
ment.
In the past thirty odd years, physical and medical sciences
have especially advanced in Japan. But it is a question how
much progress we have made in the way of original inventions.
Yet we are confident that in pure science we are by no means
behind America in advancement. Only the majority of our coun-
try men are still enslaved by the ideas of class distinctions and
other backward thoughts, of which we are greatly ashamed.
The Japanese military clique and the gentlemen clique have
been anxious to lead Japan in the path of aggression, thereby
only inviting the antipathy of the nation. The present Japanese
world of thought has been subject to an undercurrent of
struggle. We will be very much grieved if our country were
regarded as an aggressive nation because of that.
One half of our government officials and almost eighty per
cent of the army men have been caught in dreams of aggres-
sion, it is true. But recently there has been much awakening
from that.
We have confidence in our young men who have begun to
awaken, so that they may advance in the path of civilization not
to disappoint the world. We trust that you will write your arti-
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The Autobiography of Eertrand Russell
cles with the object in view to encourage our young men in their
efforts for advancement.
Please give our regards to Miss Black.
Yours respectfully,
S. YAMAMOTO
Humbug is international.
To Ottoline Morrell
[1921]
The other day Dora and I went to a Chinese feast given by
the Chinese Students here. They made speeches full of delicate
wit, in the style of 18th century France, with a mastery of Eng-
lish that quite amazed me. The Chinese Charge d' Affaires said
he had been asked to speak on Chinese Politics he said the
urgent questions were the General Election, economy and limi-
tation of armaments he spoke quite a long time, saying only
things that might have been said in a political speech about
England, and which yet were quite all right for China when
he sat down he had not committed himself to anything at all,
but had suggested (without ever saying) that China's prob-
lems were worse than ours. The Chinese constantly remind me
of Oscar Wilde in his first trial when he thought wit would pull
one through anything, and found himself in the grip of a great
machine that cared nothing for human values. I read of a Chi-
nese General the other day, whose troops had ventured to resist
a Japanese attack, so the Japanese insisted that he should apol-
ogise to their Consul. He replied that he had no uniform grand
enough for such an august occasion, and therefore to his pro-
found sorrow he must forego the pleasure of visiting a man for
whom he had so high an esteem. When they nevertheless in-
sisted, he called the same day on all the other Consuls, so that it
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China
appeared as if he were paying a mere visit of ceremony. Then
all Japan raised a howl that he had insulted the whole Japanese
nation.
I would do anything in the world to help the Chinese, but it is
difficult. They are like a nation of artists, with all their good
and bad points. Imagine Gertler and [Augustus] John and
Lytton set to govern the British Empire, and you will have
some idea how China has been governed for 2,000 years. Lytton
is very like an old fashioned Chinaman, not at all like the mod-
ern westernized type.
I must stop. All my love.
TourE.
From my brother Frank Telegraph House
Chichester
27 January 1921
Dear Bertie :
The Bank to which I have rashly given a Guarantee is threat-
ening to sell me up, so that by the time you return I shall prob-
ably be a pauper walking the streets. It is not an alluring pros-
pect for my old age but I dare say it will afford great joy to
Elizabeth.
I have not seen the elusive little Wrinch again although she
seems to spend as much time in London as at Girton. I did not
know a don had so much freedom of movement in term time.
Did you know that our disagreeable Aunt Gertrude was
running the Punch Bowl Inn on Hindhead? I feel tempted to go
and stay there for a week end but perhaps she would not take
me in. The Aunt Agatha was very bitter about it when I last
saw her and said the horrible woman was running all over
Hindhead poisoning people's minds against her by saying the
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
most shocking things we can guess what about. I think
when one reflects on the P.L. [Pembroke Lodge] atmosphere it
is amusing to think of the Aunt Agatha becoming an object of
scandal in her old age.* Naturally she feels that something
must be seriously wrong with the world for such a thing to be
possible. She was quite amusingly and refreshingly bitter about
Gertrude and next time I see her I will draw her out a bit.
I am afraid I have no more news to tell you: my mind is en-
tirely occupied with thoughts of what it is like to be a bankrupt
and how and where to live on nothing a year. The
problem is a novel one and I dislike all its solutions.
Yours affectionately,
RUSSELL
The Japan Chronicle
P.O. Box No. 91 Sannomiya
Kobe, Japan
January 18, 1921
Dear Mr. Russell:
Your books have always been so helpful to me that when I
heard you were coming out here I ventured to send you a copy
of the Chronicle in the hope that you might find something of
interest in it from time to time. Please do not trouble about the
subscription; I am very glad if the paper has been of service.
When I was in England a year ago I hoped to have the op-
portunity of a talk with you, and Francis Hirst tried to arrange
it but found you were away from London at the time. Do you
intend to visit Japan before you return to England? If so I shall
hope to have a chance of meeting you, and if I can do anything
here in connection with such a visit please let me know.
I shall be glad to read your new book on Bolshevism. Since
* She was suspiciously friendly with her chauffeur. The Duke of Bedford gave
her a car, which she was too nervous ever to use, but she kept the chauffeur.
[204]
China
you wrote you will perhaps have noticed a review of Bolshevism
in Theory and Practice. It may perhaps be interesting to you to
know that I can remember your father's will being upset in the
Courts, and that as a result I have followed your career with
interest.
Sincerely yours^
ROBERT YOUNG
The Japan Chronicle
P.O. Box No. 91 Sannomiya
Kobe, Japan
January 2, 1922
Dear Mr. Russell:
It is a long time since August, when you wrote to me from
the Empress of Asia, and I ought to have acknowledged your
letter earlier, but with my small staff I am always kept very
busy, and my correspondence tends to accumulate.
I have just heard from Mrs. Russell of the birth of an heir,
and I congratulate you in no formal sense, for it has given us
great pleasure and much relief to learn that Mrs. Russell did
not suffer from her experiences in Japan. I published the letter
you sent me, and I think some good has been done by the pro-
test. So few people have courage to protest against an evil of
this character, lest worse things may befall them in the way of
criticism.
What a farce the Washington Conference is. From the first I
doubted the sincerity of this enthusiasm for peace on the part of
those who made the war. Perhaps it is the head rather than the
heart that is at fault. The statesmen do not seem to realise that
so long as the old policies are pursued, we shall have the same
results, and that a limitation of armaments to the point they
have reached during the war puts us in a worse position regard-
ing the burden carried and the danger of explosion than in
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
1914. Japan has sulkily accepted the ratio proposed by Amer-
ica, but is supporting the French demand for more submarines.
France is showing herself a greater danger to Europe than Ger-
many ever was. China has been betrayed at the Washington
Conference, as we expected. The Anglo-Japanese Alliance has
been scrapped, to be replaced by a Four-Power agreement
which is still more dangerous to China. Her salvation, unhap-
pily, lies in the jealousies of the Powers. United, the pressure on
her will be increased. But I doubt whether the Senate will en-
dorse the treaty, once its full implications are understood.
You are very busy, I note, and I hope that you will be able to
make people think. But it is a wicked and perverse generation, I
am afraid. Sometimes I despair. It looks as if all the ideals with
which I started life had been overthrown. But I suppose when
one is well into the sixties, the resilience of youth has disap-
peared.
By the way, I have suggested to the Conway Memorial Com-
mittee that you be asked to deliver the annual lecture. If you are
asked, I hope you will see your way to consent. Moncure Con-
way was a fine character, always prepared to champion the op-
pressed and defend free speech. He stood by Bradlaugh and
Mrs. Besant when they were prosecuted for the publication of
the Fruits of Philosophy, as he stood by Foote when prosecuted
on account of the Freethinker^ though personally objecting to
that style of propaganda.
I have given Mrs. Russell some Japan news in a letter I have
just written to her, so I will not repeat here. I hope you are
receiving the Japan Weekly Chronicle regularly, so that you
can keep in touch with news in this part of the world. It has
been sent to you care of George Allen & Unwin. Now I have
your Chelsea address I will have it sent there. For some years
our Weekly has been steadily increasing in circulation, going
all over the world. But from the 1st of this year the Japanese
[206]
China
Post Office has doubled the foreign postage rates, which makes
6 yen for postage alone per annum on a copy of the Weekly, and
I am afraid our circulation will suffer accordingly.
It is very good to hear that you are completely restored to
health. Mrs. Russell says you would scarcely be recognised by
those who only saw you in Japan. Your visit was a great pleas-
ure to me. For years I had admired your writings and been en-
couraged by the stand you had taken in public affairs when even
the stoutest seemed to waver. It therefore meant much to me to
make your acquaintance and I hope your friendship.
With our united good wishes,
Sincerely yours,
ROBERT YOUNG
5 New Square
Lincolns Inn, W.C.2
2 June 1921
My dear Bertie:
How kind of you to write; and to say such kind things. Until
there was a false rumour of your death I never really knew how
very fond I am of you. I didn't believe the rumour, but the mere
idea that I might never see you again had never come into my
mind; and it was an intense relief when the Chinese Embassy
ascertained that the rumour was false. You will take care of
your health now, won't you?
The Political situation is, as always, damnable millions of
unemployed soldiers camping in the parks but an excel-
lent day yesterday for the Derby which is all that anyone appar-
ently cares about.
Einstein lectures at King's College in 10 days time, but I
can't get a ticket. I've been reading some of Einstein's actual
papers and they give me a most tremendous impression of the
clearness of his thoughts.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
We spent a delightful Whitsuntide at the Shiffolds: Tovey*
was there and talked endlessly and played Beethoven Sonatas
and Bach, so I was very happy.
I enclose a letter for Miss Black Fm afraid its a little inad-
equate but it's so difficult to write to a person one has never
seen. I hope this experience with her and her devoted nursing of
you will form an eternal basis for you both.
Dora sends her love.
Tours fraternally and
affectionately,
C. P. SANGER
From Joseph Conrad Oswalds
Bishopsbourne, Kent
2. Nov. 1921
My Dear Russell:
We were glad to hear that your wife feels none the worse for
the exertions and agitations of the move.f Please give her our
love and assure her that she is frequently in our thoughts.
As to yourself I have been dwelling with you mentally for
several days between the covers of your book J an habitation
of great charm and most fascinatingly furnished; not to speak
of the wonderful quality of light that reigns in there. Also all
the windows (I am trying to write in images) are, one feels,
standing wide open. Nothing less stuffy of the Mansions of
the mind could be conceived! I am sorry for the philosophers
(p. 212-end) who (like the rest of us) cannot have their cake
and eat it. There's no exactitude in the vision or in the words. I
have a notion that we are condemned in all things to the d-peu-
pres, which no scientific passion for weighing and measuring
will ever do away with.
* The music critic.
f The move from one abode to another in London after we returned from China.
J The Analysis of Mind.
[208]
China
It is very possible that I haven't understood your pages
but the good try I have had was a delightful experience. I sup-
pose you are enough of a philosopher not to have expected more
from a common mortal.
I don't believe that Charles I was executed (pp. 245-246 et
seq.) but there is not enough paper left here to explain why.
Next time perhaps. For I certainly intend to meet you amongst
your Chinoiseries at the very earliest fitting time.
Always affectly yours^
J. CONRAD
Oswalds
Bishopsbourne, Kent
18th Nov. 1921
My Dear Ricssell:
Jessie must have sent yesterday our congratulations and
words of welcome to the "comparative stranger" who has come
to stay with you (and take charge of the household as you will
soon discover). Yes! Paternity is a great experience of which
the least that can be said is that it is eminently worth having
if only for the deepened sense of fellowship with all men it
gives one. It is the only experience perhaps whose universality
does not make it common but invests it with a sort of grandeur
on that very account. My affection goes out to you both, to him
who is without speech and thought as yet and to you who have
spoken to men profoundly with effect and authority about the
nature of the mind. For your relation to each other will have its
poignant moments arising out of the very love and loyalty bind-
ing you to each other.
Of all the incredible things that come to pass this that
there should be one day a Russell bearing mine for one of his
names is surely the most marvellous. Not even my horoscope
could have disclosed that for I verily believe that all the sensible
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
stars would have refused to combine in that extravagant man-
ner over my cradle. However it has come to pass (to the sur-
prise of the Universe) and all I can say is that I am profoundly
touched more than I can express that I should have been
present to your mind in that way and at such a time.
Please kiss your wife's hand for me and tell her that in the
obscure bewildered masculine way (which is not quite unintel-
ligent however) I take part in her gladness. Since your delight-
ful visit here she was much in our thoughts and I will con-
fess we felt very optimistic. She has justified it fully and it is a
great joy to think of her with two men in the house. She will
have her hands full presently. I can only hope that John Conrad
has been born with a disposition towards indulgence which he
will consistently exercise towards his parents. I don't think that
I can wish you anything better and so with my dear love to all
three of you, I am
always yours,
JOSEPH CONRAD
P.S. I am dreadfully offended at your associating me with some
undesirable acquaintance of yours* who obviously should not
have been allowed inside the B. Museum reading-room. I wish
you to understand that my attitude towards [the] King Charles
question is not phantastic but philosophical and I shall try to
make it clear to you later when you will be more in a state to
follow my reasoning closely. Knowing from my own experience
I imagine that it's no use talking to you seriously just now.
* Who did not agree that Julius Caesar is dead, and when I asked why, replied:
"Because I am Julius Caesar."
[210]
China
1 84 Ebury Street
S.W.I
Saturday, [December, 1921]
Dear Bertie:
The book is The Invention of a New Religion by Professor
Chamberlain. If you want to consult it, here it is and perhaps
you would let me have it back anon.
I am so glad that you and Dora can come to luncheon to meet
Dr. Wise on Wednesday and tell Dora that 1 : 30 will do beauti-
fully. I am also asking B. K. Martin, a very intelligent young
man who is now teaching history at Magdalene, having got his
B.A. last year. He wrote to me three days ago and said "if you
would introduce me to Bertrand Russell I should be forever in
your debt. I'd rather meet him than any other living (or dead)
creature." I felt that in view of this pre-eminence over the
shades of Plato, Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, Descartes, Ninon de
PEncIos and Napoleon the Great, you would consent to shine
upon him ! Also he is extremely clever and a nice boy.
Tours ever,
EILEEN POWER
I was asked to dine with the Webbs the other day, but I don't
think I ever shall be again for we nearly came to blows over the
relative merits of China and Japan!
Sept. 22, 1923
British Legation
Adis Ababa
Dear Bertie:
I have just read with great pleasure your Problem of China,
where I spent some years. It is a fact that the Treaty of Ver-
sailles (article 131) provided for the restoration of the astro-
nomical instruments to China, but I am under the impression
[211]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
that the obligation has not been carried out. If so, I fear you
cannot count it among the "important benefits" secured to the
world by that treaty. Perhaps you might suggest to your friends
in China the occupation of Swabia or Oldenburg to secure its
enforcement. I must say, however, in fairness to the Treaty of
Versailles, that you do it less than justice. You have overlooked
article 246, under which "Germany will hand over to H.B.M.'s
Government the skull of the Sultan Mkwawa. . . ."
I think, if I may say so, that on page 24 (top) "animal"
should be "annual." I feel sure the Temple of Heaven was never
the scene of the sort of sacrifice that pleased the God of Abel.
Your affec cousin,
CLAUD RUSSELL
Foreign Office
S.W.I
31st May, 1924
My dear Russell:
For some time past, His Majesty's Government have been
considering the best means of allocating and administering the
British share of the China Boxer Indemnity, which, it has been
decided, should be devoted to purposes mutually beneficial to
British and Chinese interests.
In order to obtain the best results from the policy thus indi-
cated, it has been decided to appoint a committee to advise His
Majesty's Government; and I am approaching you in the hope
that you may be able to serve on this Committee, feeling confi-
dent that your experience would be of the greatest assistance in
this matter, which will so deeply and permanently affect our
relations with China.
The terms of reference will probably be as follows:
[212]
After the 100 fine: Bertrand Russell
with Lytton Strachey and Lady Ottoline
Morrell, leaving the Mansion House, 1916
(photo by Pinchot, New York)
Dora Black
China
"In view of the decision of His Majesty's Government to de-
vote future payments of the British share of the Boxer Indem-
nity to purposes mutually beneficial to British and Chinese in-
terests.
"To investigate the different objects to which these payments
should be allocated, and the best means of securing the satisfac-
tory administration of the funds, to hear witnesses and to make
such recommendations as may seem desirable."
For the sake of efficiency, the Committee will be kept as small
as possible, especially at the outset of its proceedings. But it will
of course be possible to appoint "ad hoc 7 ' additional members
for special subjects, if such a course should recommend itself
later on. The following are now being approached, as represent-
ing the essential elements which should go to the composition of
the Committee:
Chairman: Lord Phillimore.
Foreign Office: Sir John Jordan and Mr. S. P. Waterlow.
Department of Overseas Trade: Sir William Clark.
House of Commons: Mr. H. A. L. Fisher, M.P.
Finance: Sir Charles Addis.
Education: Mr. Lowes Dickinson and The Honourable
Bertrand Russell.
Women : Dame Adelaide Anderson
China: A suitable Chinese.
It will be understood that the above list is of a tentative char-
acter and should be regarded as confidential.
I enclose a brief memorandum which shows the present posi-
tion with regard to the Indemnity, and to the legislation which
has now been introduced into the House. I trust that you will be
able to see your way to undertake this work, to which I attach
the highest importance.
Tours -very sincerely ',
X RAMSAY MACDONALD
[213]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
Note on a scrap of paper:
"It is desired that the Committee should consist wholly of
men with an extensive knowledge of China and its affairs."
MEMORANDUM ON THE BOXER INDEMNITY
by
Bertrand Russell
The Boxer Indemnity Bill, now in Committee, provides that
what remains unpaid of the Boxer Indemnity shall be spent on
purposes to the mutual advantage of Great Britain & China. It
does not state that these purposes are to be educational. In the
opinion of all who know China (except solely as a field for capi-
talist exploitation), it is of the utmost importance that an
Amendment should be adopted specifying Chinese education as
the sole purpose to which the money should be devoted. The
following are the chief grounds in favour of such an Amend-
ment:
(1) That this would be the expenditure most useful to
China.
(2) That no other course would produce a good effect on
influential Chinese opinion.
(3 ) That the interests of Great Britain, which are to be con-
sidered, can only be secured by winning the good will of the
Chinese.
(4) That any other course would contrast altogether too un-
favourably with the action of America, which long ago devoted
all that remained of the American share of the Boxer indemnity
to Chinese education.
(5) That the arguments alleged in favour of other courses
all have a corrupt motive, i.e. are designed for the purpose of
securing private profit through Government action.
For these reasons, it is profoundly desirable that Labour
[214]
China
Members of Parliament should take action to secure the neces-
sary Amendment before it is too late.
The China Indemnity Bill, in its present form, provides that
the remainder of the Boxer Indemnity shall be applied to "pur-
poses, educational or other," which are mutually beneficial to
Great Britain and China.
Sir Walter de Frece proposed in Committee that the words
"connected with education" should be substituted for "educa-
tional or other."
It is much to be hoped that the House of Commons will carry
this Amendment on the Report stage. Certain interests are op-
posed to the Amendment for reasons with which Labour can
have no sympathy. The Government thinks it necessary to pla-
cate these interests, but maintains that the Committee to be ap-
pointed will be free to decide in favour of education only. The
Committee, however, is appointed by Parliament, and one third
of its members are to retire every two years; there is therefore no
guarantee against its domination by private interests in the fu-
ture.
The Bill in its present form opens the door to corruption, is
not calculated to please Chinese public opinion, displays Great
Britain as less enlightened than America and Japan, and there-
fore fails altogether to achieve its nominal objects. The Labour
Party ought to make at least an attempt to prevent the possibil-
ity of the misapplication of public money to purposes of private
enrichment. This will be secured by the insertion of the words
"connected with education" in Clause 1, after the word "pur-
poses."
BERTRAND RUSSELL
Berlin August 22 '24
Dear Russell:
Here is an abbreviated translation of C. L. Lo's letter to me
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
(Lo & S. N. Fu being S. Hu [Hu Shih]'s chief disciples, both
in Berlin ) .
"Heard from China that Wu pei fu advised Ch. Governm. to
use funds for railways. Morning Post said (4 weeks ago) that
Brit. Gov't cabled Ch. Gov't to send a delegate. If so, it would
be terrible. Already wrote to London Ch. stud. Club to inquire
Chu. If report true, try to cancel action by asking Tsai to mount
horse with his prestige. In any case, Brit. Gov't still has full
power. We have written trying to influence Chu, but on the
other hand you please write to Lo Su [Russell] to influence
Brit. For. Office, asking him to recommend Tsai if nothing else
is possible. There is already a panic in Peking educ'l world.
There was a cable to Brit. Gov't, and another to Tsai asking
him to go to London. . . ."
Another letter, from Chu, came tq me last night:
"I did give my consent (?) to the nomination (?) of Mr.
Ting. I quite agree (?) with you Ting is the most desirable
man for the post, but recently I learnt that Peking (For.
Office?) is in favor of (?) Dr. C. H. Wang, who is not in Eu-
rope. I doubt whether* the latter would accept the appt'm't. . . .
I will talk over this question with Mr. Russell when he returns
to town."
I know Wang (brother of C. T. Wang of Kuo Ming Tang
[National People Party] fame), C. H. Wang is a fine gentle
fellow, recently worked in business and a Christian. One should
emphasize the personal attractiveness and goodness but do the
opposite to his suitability to this in-its-nature roughneck tussle
of a job.
My noodles are getting cold and my Kleines helles bier is
getting warm 200 meters away where my wife is waiting.
Excuse me 1000 times for not reading this letter over again.
Trs ever,
Y. R. CHAO
[216]
IV
Second Marriage
WITH my return from China in September 1921, my life
entered upon a less dramatic phase, with a new emotional
centre. From adolescence until the completion of Principle
Mathematics my fundamental preoccupation had been intellec-
tual. I wanted to understand and to make others understand;
also I wished to raise a monument by which I might be remem-
bered, and on account of which I might feel that I had not lived
in vain. From the outbreak of the First World War until my
return from China, social questions occupied the centre of my
emotions: the War and Soviet Russia alike gave me a sense of
tragedy, and I had hopes that mankind might learn to live in
some less painful way. I tried to discover some secret of wis-
dom, and to proclaim it with such persuasiveness that the world
should listen and agree. But, gradually, the ardour cooled and
the hope grew less; I did not change my views as to how men
should live, but I held them with less of prophetic ardour and
with less expectation of success in my campaigns.
Ever since the day, in the summer of 1894, when I walked
with Alys on Richmond Green after hearing the medical ver-
dict, I had tried to suppress my desire for children. It had, how-
ever, grown continually stronger, until it had become almost
[219]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
insupportable. When my first child was born, in November
1921, 1 felt an immense release of pent-up emotion, and during
the next ten years my main purposes were parental. Parental
feeling, as I have experienced it, is very complex. There is, first
and foremost, sheer animal affection, and delight in watching
what is charming in the ways of the young. Next, there is the
sense of inescapable responsibility, providing a purpose for
daily activities which scepticism does not easily question. Then
there is an egoistic element, which is very dangerous: the hope
that one's children may succeed where one has failed, that they
may carry on one's work when death or senility puts an end to
one's own efforts, and, in any case, that they will supply a bio-
logical escape from death, making one's own life part of the
whole stream, and not a mere stagnant puddle without any
overflow into the future. All this I experienced, and for some
years it filled my life with happiness and peace.
The first thing was to find somewhere to live. I tried to rent a
flat, but I was both politically and morally undesirable, and land-
lords refused to have me as a tenant. So I bought a freehold
house in Chelsea, No. 31 Sydney Street, where my two older
children were born. But it did not seem good for children to live
all the year in London, so in the spring of 1922 we acquired a
house in Cornwall, at Porthcurno, about four miles from Land's
End. From then until 1927 we divided our time about equally
between London and Cornwall; after that year, we spent no
time in London and less in Cornwall.
The beauty of the Cornish coast is inextricably mixed in my
memories with the ecstasy of watching two healthy happy chil-
dren learning the joys of sea and rocks and sun and storm. I
spent a great deal more time with them than is possible for most
fathers. During the six months of the year we spent in Cornwall
we had a fixed and leisurely routine. During the morning my
wife and I worked while the children were in the care of a nurse,
[220]
Second Marriage
and later a governess. After lunch we all went to one or other of
the many beaches that were within a walk of our house. The
children played naked, bathing or climbing or making sand
castles as the spirit moved them, and we, of course, shared in
these activities. We came home very hungry to a very late and a
very large tea; then the children were put to bed and the adults
reverted to their grown-up pursuits. In my memory, which is of
course fallacious, it was always sunny, and always warm after
April. But in April the winds were cold. One April day, when
Kate's age was two years three and a half months, I heard her
talking to herself and wrote down what she said:
The North wind blows over the North Pole.
The daisies hit the grass.
The wind blows the bluebells down.
The North wind blows to the wind in the South.
She did not know that any one was listening, and she certainly
did not know what "North Pole' 7 means.
In the circumstances it was natural that I should become in-
terested in education. I had already written briefly on the sub-
ject in Principles of Social Reconstruction, but now it occupied
a large part of my mind. I wrote a book, On Education, Espe-
cially in Early Childhood, which was published in 1926 and
had a very large sale. It seems to me now somewhat unduly
optimistic in its psychology, but as regards values I find noth-
ing in it to recant, although I think now that the methods I pro-
posed with very young children were unduly harsh.
It must not be supposed that life during these six years from
the autumn of 1921 to the autumn of 1927 was all one long
summer idyll. Parenthood had made it imperative to earn
money. The purchase of two houses had exhausted almost all
the capital that remained to me. When I returned from China I
had no obvious means of making money, and at first I suffered
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
considerable anxiety, I took whatever odd journalistic jobs were
offered me: while my son John was being born, I wrote an ar-
ticle on Chinese pleasure in fireworks, although concentration
on so remote a topic was difficult in the circumstances. In 1922
I published a book on China, and in 1923 (with my wife Dora)
a book on The Prospects of Industrial Civilization, but neither
of these brought much money. I did better with two small
books, The A.B.C. of Atoms (1923) and The A.B.C. of Rela-
tivity (1925), and with two other small books, Icarus or The
Future of Science ( 1924) and What I Believe ( 1925 ) . In 1924
I earned a good deal by a lecture tour in America. But I re-
mained rather poor until the book on education in 1926. After
that, until 1933, I prospered financially, especially with Mar-
riage and Morals (1929) and The Conquest of Happiness
( 1930) . Most of my work during these years was popular, and
was done in order to make money, but I did also some more
technical work. There was a new edition of Principia Mathe-
matica in 1925, to which I made various additions; and in 1927
I published The Analysis of Matter, which is in some sense a
companion volume to The Analysis of Mind, begun in prison
and published in 192L I also stood for Parliament in Chelsea in
1922 and 1923, and Dora stood in 1924.
In 1927, Dora and I came to a decision, for which we were
equally responsible, to found a school of our own in order that
our children might be educated as we thought best. We be-
lieved, perhaps mistakenly, that children need the companion-
ship of a group of other children, and that, therefore, we ought
no longer to be content to bring up our children without others.
But we did not know of any existing school that seemed to us in
any way satisfactory. We wanted an unusual combination: on
the one hand, we disliked prudery and religious instruction and
a great many restraints on freedom which are taken for granted
in conventional schools; on the other hand, we could not agree
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with most "modern" educationists in thinking scholastic in-
struction unimportant, or in advocating a complete absence of
discipline. We therefore endeavoured to collect a group of about
twenty children, of roughly the same ages as John and Kate,
with a view to keeping these same children throughout their
school years.
For the purposes of the school we rented my brother's house,
Telegraph House, on the South Downs, between Chichester
and Petersfield. This owed its name to having been a semaphore
station in the time of George III, one of a string of such stations
by which messages were flashed between Portsmouth and Lon-
don. Probably the news of Trafalgar reached London in this
way.
The original house was quite small, but my brother
gradually added to it. He was passionately devoted to the place,
and wrote about it at length in his autobiography, which he
called My Life and Ad-ventures. The house was ugly and rather
absurd, but the situation was superb. There were enormous
views to East and South and West; in one direction one saw
over the Sussex Weald to Leith Hill, in another one saw the Isle
of Wight and the liners approaching Southampton. There was
a tower with large windows on all four sides. Here I made my
study, and I have never known one with a more beautiful out-
look.
With the house went two hundred and thirty acres of wild
downland, partly heather and bracken, but mostly virgin forest
magnificent beech trees, and yews of vast age and unusual
size. The woods were full of every kind of wild life, including
deer. The nearest houses were a few scattered farms about a
mile away. For fifty miles, going eastward, one could walk on
footpaths over unenclosed bare downs.
It is no wonder that my brother loved the place. But he had
speculated unwisely, and lost every penny that he possessed. I
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
offered him a much higher rent than he could have obtained
from anyone else, and he was compelled by poverty to accept
my offer. But he hated it, and ever after bore me a grudge for
inhabiting his paradise.
The house must, however, have had for him some associa-
tions not wholly pleasant. He had acquired it originally as a
discreet retreat where he could enjoy the society of Miss Morris,
whom, for many years, he hoped to marry if he could ever get
free from his first wife. Miss Morris, however, was ousted from
his affections by Molly, the lady who became his second wife,
for whose sake he suffered imprisonment after being con-
demned by his Peers for bigamy. For Molly's sake he had been
divorced from his first wife. He became divorced in Reno and
immediately thereupon married Molly, again at Reno. He re-
turned to England and found that British law considered his
marriage to Molly bigamous on the ground that British law ac-
knowledges the validity of Reno marriages, but not of Reno di-
vorces* His second wife, who was very fat, used to wear green
corduroy knickerbockers; the view of her from behind when she
was bending over a flower-bed at Telegraph House used to
make one wonder that he had thought her worth what he had
gone through for her sake.
Her day, like Miss Morris's, came to an end, and he fell in
love with Elizabeth. Molly, from whom he wished to be di-
vorced, demanded 400 a year for life as her price; after his
death, I had to pay this. She died at about the age of ninety.
Elizabeth, in her turn, left him and wrote an intolerably cruel
novel about him, called Vera. In this novel, Vera is already
dead; she had been his wife, and he is supposed to be heart-
broken at the loss of her. She died by falling out of one of the
windows of the tower of Telegraph House. As the novel pro-
ceeds, the reader gradually gathers that her death was not an
accident, but suicide brought on by my brother's cruelty. It was
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this that caused me to give my children an emphatic piece of
advice: "Do not marry a novelist."
In this house of many memories we established the school. In
managing the school we experienced a number of difficulties
which we ought to have foreseen. There was, first, the problem
of finance. It became obvious that there must be an enormous
pecuniary loss. We could only have prevented this by making
the school large and the food inadequate, and we could not
make the school large except by altering its character so as to
appeal to conventional parents. Fortunately I was at this time
making a great deal of money from books and from lecture
tours in America. I made four such tours altogether during
1924 (already mentioned), 1927, 1929, and 1931. The one in
1927 was during the first term of the school, so that I had no
part in its beginnings. During the second term, Dora went on a
lecture tour in America. Thus throughout the first two terms
there was never more than one of us in charge. When I was not
in America, I had to write books to make the necessary money.
Consequently, I was never able to give my whole time to the
school.
A second difficulty was that some of the staff, however often
and however meticulously our principles were explained to
them, could never be brought to act in accordance with them
unless one of us was present.
A third trouble, and that perhaps the most serious, was that
we got an undue proportion of problem children. We ought to
have been on the look-out for this pitfall, but at first we were
glad to take almost any child. The parents who were most in-
clined to try new methods were those who had difficulties with
their children. As a rule, these difficulties were the fault of the
parents, and the ill effects of their unwisdom were renewed in
each holiday. Whatever may have been the cause, many of the
children were cruel and destructive. To let the children go free
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was to establish a reign of terror, in which the strong kept the
weak trembling and miserable. A school is like the world: only
government can prevent brutal violence. And so I found myself,
when the children were not at lessons, obliged to supervise them
continually to stop cruelty. We divided them into three groups,
bigs, middles, and smalls. One of the middles was perpetually
ill-treating the smalls, so I asked him why he did it. His answer
was: "The bigs hit me, so I hit the smalls; that's fair." And he
really thought it was.
Sometimes really sinister impulses came to light. There were
among the pupils a brother and sister who had a very sentimen-
tal mother, and had been taught by her to profess a completely
fantastic degree of affection for each other. One day the teacher
who was superintending the midday meal found part of a hat-
pin in the soup that was about to be ladled out. On inquiry, it
turned out that the supposedly affectionate sister had put it in.
"Didn't you know it might kill you if you swallowed it?" we
said. u Oh yes," she replied, "but I don't take soup." Further in-
vestigation made it fairly evident that she had hoped her
brother would be the victim. On another occasion, when a pair
of rabbits had been given to a child that was unpopular, two
other children made an attempt to burn them to death, and in
the attempt, made a vast fire which blackened several acres,
and, but for a change of wind, might have burnt the house
down.
For us personally, and for our two children, there were
special worries. The other boys naturally thought that our boy
was unduly favoured, whereas we, in order not to favour him or
his sister, had to keep an unnatural distance between them and
us except during the holidays. They, in turn, suffered from a
divided loyalty: they had either to be sneaks or to practise deceit
towards their parents. The complete happiness that had existed
in our relations to John and Kate was thus destroyed, and was
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replaced by awkwardness and embarrassment. I think that
something of the sort is bound to happen whenever parents and
children are at the same school.
In retrospect, I feel that several things were mistaken in the
principles upon which the school was conducted. Young chil-
dren in a group cannot be happy without a certain amount of
order and routine. Left to amuse themselves, they are bored,
and turn to bullying or destruction. In their free time, there
should always be an adult to suggest some agreeable game or
amusement, and to supply an initiative which is hardly to be
expected of young children.
Another thing that was wrong was that there was a pretence
of more freedom than in fact existed. There was very little free-
dom where health and cleanliness were concerned. The children
had to wash, to clean their teeth, and to go to bed at the right
time. True, we had never professed that there should be free-
dom in such matters, but foolish people, and especially journal-
ists in search of a sensation, had said or believed that we advo-
cated a complete absence of all restraints and compulsions. The
older children, when told to brush their teeth, would sometimes
say sarcastically: "Call this a free school!" Those who had
heard their parents talking about the freedom to be expected in
the school would test it by seeing how far they could go in
naughtiness without being stopped. As we only forbade things
that were obviously harmful, such experiments were apt to be
very inconvenient.
In 1929, 1 published Marriage and Morals, which I dictated
while recovering from whooping-cough. (Owing to my age, my
trouble was not diagnosed until I had infected most of the
children in the school.) It was this book chiefly which, in 1940,
supplied material for the attack on me in New York. In it, I
developed the view that complete fidelity was not to be expected
in most marriages, but that a husband and wife ought to be able
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to remain good friends in spite of affairs. I did not maintain,
however, that a marriage could with advantage be prolonged if
the wife had a child or children of whom the husband was not
the father; in that case, I thought, divorce was desirable. I do
not know what I think now about the subject of marriage.
There seem to be insuperable objections to every general theory
about it. Perhaps easy divorce causes less unhappiness than any
other system, but I am no longer capable of being dogmatic on
the subject of marriage.
In the following year, 1930, I published The Conquest of
Happiness, a book consisting of common-sense advice as to
what an individual can do to overcome temperamental causes of
unhappiness, as opposed to what can be done by changes in so-
cial and economic systems. This book was differently estimated
by readers of three different levels. Unsophisticated readers, for
whom it was intended, liked it, with the result that it had a very
large sale. Highbrows, on the contrary, regarded it as a con-
temptible pot-boiler, an escapist book, bolstering up the pre-
tence that there were useful things to be done and said outside
politics. But at yet another level, that of professional psychia-
trists, the book won very high praise. I do not know which esti-
mate was right; what I do know is that the book was written at
a time when I needed much self-command and much that I had
learned by painful experience if I was to maintain any endur-
able level of happiness.
I was profoundly unhappy during the next few years and
some things which I wrote at the time give a more exact picture
of my mood than anything I can now write in somewhat pale
reminiscence.
At that time I used to write an article once a week for the
Hearst Press. I spent Christmas Day, 1931, on the Atlantic, re-
turning from one of my American lecture tours. So I chose for
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that week's article the subject of "Christmas at Sea." This is the
article I wrote:
CHRISTMAS AT SEA
For the second time in my life, I am spending Christmas Day
on the Atlantic. The previous occasion when I had this experience
was thirty-five years ago, and by contrasting what I feel now with
what I remember of my feelings then, I am learning much about
growing old.
Thirty-five years ago I was lately married, childless, very
happy, and beginning to taste the joys of success. Family appeared
to me as an external power hampering to freedom: the world, to
me, was a world of individual adventure. I wanted to think my
own thoughts, find my own friends, and choose my own abode,
without regard to tradition or elders or anything but my own tastes.
I felt strong enough to stand alone, without the need of buttresses.
Now, I realize, what I did not know then, that this attitude was
dependent upon a superabundant vitality. I found Christmas at sea
a pleasant amusement, and enjoyed the efforts of the ship's officers
to make the occasion as festive as possible. The ship rolled pro-
digiously, and with each roll all the steamer trunks slid from side
to side of all the state-rooms with a noise like thunder. The louder
the noise became, the more it made me laugh: everything was
great fun.
Time, they say, makes a man mellow. I do not believe it. Time
makes a man afraid, and fear makes him conciliatory, and being
conciliatory he endeavours to appear to others what they will think
mellow. And with fear comes the need of affection, of some human
warmth to keep away the chill of the cold universe. When I speak
of fear, I do not mean merely or mainly personal fear: the fear of
death or decrepitude or penury or any such merely mundane mis-
fortune. I am thinking of a more metaphysical fear. I am thinking
of the fear that enters the soul through experience of the major
evils to which life is subject: the treachery of friends, the death
of those whom we love, the discovery of the cruelty that lurks in
average human nature.
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During the thirty-five years since my last Christmas on the
Atlantic, experience of these major evils has changed the character
of my unconscious attitude to life. To stand alone may still be pos-
sible as a moral effort, but is no longer pleasant as an adventure.
I want the companionship of my children, the warmth of the family
fire-side, the support of historic continuity and of membership of
a great nation. These are very ordinary human joys, which most
middle-aged persons enjoy at Christmas. There is nothing about
them to distinguish the philosopher from other men; on the con-
trary, their very ordinariness makes them the more effective in
mitigating the sense of sombre solitude.
And so Christmas at sea, which was once a pleasant adventure,
has become painful. It seems to symbolize the loneliness of the man
who chooses to stand alone, using his own judgment rather than
the judgment of the herd. A mood of melancholy is, in these cir-
cumstances, inevitable, and should not be shirked.
But there is something also to be said on the other side. Domes-
tic joys, like all the softer pleasures, may sap the will and destroy
courage. The indoor warmth of the traditional Christmas is good,
but so is the South wind, and the sun rising out of the sea, and the
freedom of the watery horizon. The beauty of these things is un-
diminished by human folly and wickedness, and remains to give
strength to the faltering idealism of middle age.
December 25, 1931.
As is natural when one is trying to ignore a profound cause
of unhappiness, I found impersonal reasons for gloom. I had
been very full of personal misery in the early years of the cen-
tury, but at that time I had a more or less Platonic philosophy
which enabled me to see beauty in the extra-human universe.
Mathematics and the stars consoled me when the human world
seemed empty of comfort. But changes in my philosophy have
robbed me of such consolations. Solipsism oppressed me, par-
ticularly after studying such interpretations of physics as that
of Eddington. It seemed that what we had thought of as laws of
nature were only linguistic conventions, and that physics was
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not really concerned with an external world. I do not mean that
I quite believed this, but that it became a haunting nightmare,
increasingly invading my imagination. One foggy night, sitting
in my tower at Telegraph House after everyone else was asleep,
I expressed this mood in a pessimistic meditation:
MODERN PHYSICS
Alone in my tower at midnight, I remember the woods and downs,
the sea and sky, that daylight showed. Now, as I look through
each of the four windows, north, south, east and west, I see only
myself dimly reflected, or shadowed in monstrous opacity upon the
fog. What matter? To-morrow's sunrise will give me back the
beauty of the outer world as I wake from sleep.
But the mental night that has descended upon me is less brief,
and promises no awakening after sleep. Formerly, the cruelty, the
meanness, the dusty fretful passion of human life seemed to me
a little thing, set, like some resolved discord in music, amid the
splendour of the stars and the stately procession of geological ages.
What if the universe was to end in universal death? It was none
the less unruffled and magnificent. But now all this has shrunk
to be no more than my own reflection in the windows of the soul
through which I look out upon the night of nothingness. The
revolutions of nebulae, the birth and death of stars, are no more
than convenient fictions in the trivial work of linking together my
own sensations, and perhaps those of other men not much better
than myself. No dungeon was ever constructed so dark and narrow
as that in which the shadow physics of our time imprisons us, for
every prisoner has believed that outside his walls a free world
existed; but now the prison has become the whole universe. There
is darkness without, and when I die there will be darkness within.
There is no splendour, no vastness, anywhere; only triviality for
a moment, and then nothing.
Why live in such a world? Why even die?
In May and June 1931, 1 dictated to my then secretary, Peg
Adams, who had formerly been secretary to a Rajah and Ranee,
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
a short autobiography, which has formed the basis of the pres-
ent book down to 1921. 1 ended it with an epilogue, in which, as
will be seen, I did not admit private unhappiness, but only polit-
ical and metaphysical disillusionment. I insert it here, not be-
cause it expressed what I now feel, but because it shows the
great difficulty I experienced in adjusting myself to a changing
world and a very sober philosophy.
EPILOGUE
My personal life since I returned from China has been happy and
peaceful, I have derived from my children at least as much instinc-
tive satisfaction as I anticipated, and have in the main regulated
my life with reference to them. But while my personal life has
been satisfying, my impersonal outlook has become increasingly
sombre, and I have found it more and more difficult to believe that
the hopes which I formerly cherished will be realized in any meas-
urable future, I have endeavoured, by concerning myself with the
education of my children and with making money for their benefit,
to shut out from my thoughts the impersonal despairs which tend
to settle upon me. Ever since puberty I have believed in the value
of two things: kindness and clear thinking. At first these two re-
mained more or less distinct; when I felt triumphant I believed
most in clear thinking, and in the opposite mood I believed most
in kindness. Gradually, the two have come more and more together
in my feelings. I find that much unclear thought exists as an ex-
cuse for cruelty, and that much cruelty is prompted by super-
stitious beliefs. The War made me vividly aware of the cruelty in
human nature, but I hoped for a reaction when the War was over.
Russia made me feel that little was to be hoped from revolt against
existing governments in the way of an increase of kindness in the
world, except possibly in regard to children. The cruelty to children
involved in conventional methods of education is appalling, and I
have been amazed at the horror which is felt against those who
propose a kinder system.
As a patriot I am depressed by the downfall of England, as yet
only partial, but likely to be far more complete before long. The
history of England for the last four hundred years is in my blood,
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and I should have wished to hand on to my son the tradition of
public spirit which has in the past been valuable. In the world that
I foresee there will be no place for this tradition, and he will be
lucky if he escapes with his life. The feeling of impending doom
gives a kind of futility to all activities whose field is in England.
In the world at large, if civilization survives, I foresee the dom-
ination of either America or Russia, and in either case of a system
where a tight organization subjects the individual to the State so
completely that splendid individuals will be no longer possible.
And what of philosophy? The best years of my life were given
to the Principles of Mathematics, in the hope of finding somewhere
some certain knowledge. The whole of this effort, in spite of three
big volumes, ended inwardly in doubt and bewilderment. As re-
gards metaphysics, when, under the influence of Moore, I first
threw off the belief in German idealism, I experienced the delight
of believing that the sensible world is real. Bit by bit, chiefly under
the influence of physics, this delight has faded, and I have been
driven to a position not unlike that of Berkeley, without his God
and his Anglican complacency.
When I survey my life, it seems to me to be a useless one, de-
voted to impossible ideals. I have not found in the post-war world
any attainable ideals to replace those which I have come to think
unattainable. So far as the things I have cared for are concerned,
the world seems to me to be entering upon a period of darkness.
When Rome fell, St. Augustine, a Bolshevik of the period, could
console himself with a new hope, but my outlook upon my own
time is less like his than like that of the unfortunate Pagan phi-
losophers of the time of Justinian, whom Gibbon describes as seek-
ing asylum in Persia, but so disgusted by what they saw there
that they returned to Athens, in spite of the Christian bigotry
which forbade them to teach. Even they were more fortunate than
I am in one respect, for they had an intellectual faith which re-
mained firm. They entertained no doubt as to the greatness of
Plato. For my part, I find in the most modern thought a corrosive
solvent of the great systems of even the recent past, and I do not
believe that the constructive efforts of present-day philosophers and
men of science have anything approaching the validity that at-
taches to their destructive criticism.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
My activities continue from force of habit, and in the company
of others I forget the despair which underlies my daily pursuits
and pleasures. But when I am alone and idle, I cannot conceal for
myself that my life had no purpose, and that I know of no new
purpose to which to devote my remaining years. I find myself in-
volved in a vast mist of solitude both emotional and metaphysical,
from which I can find no issue.
[June 11, 1931.]
LETTERS
Oswalds
Bishopsbourne, Kent
Oct. 23rd. 1922
My Dear Russell:
When your book* arrived we were away for a few days. Per-
haps les convenances demanded that I should have acknowl-
edged the receipt at once. But I preferred to read it before I
wrote. Unluckily a very unpleasant affair was sprung on me
and absorbed all my thinking energies for a fortnight. I simply
did not attempt to open the book till all the worry and flurry was
over, and I could give it two clear days.
I have always liked the Chinese, even those that tried to kill
me (and some other people) in the yard of a private house in
Chantabun, even (but not so much) the fellow who stole all my
money one night in Bankok, but brushed and folded my clothes
neatly for me to dress in the morning, before vanishing into the
depths of Siam. I also received many kindnesses at the hands of
various Chinese. This with the addition of an evening's conver-
sation with the secretary of His Excellency Tseng on the veran-
dah of an hotel and a perfunctory study of a poem, The Heathen
Chinee, is all I know about Chinese. But after reading your ex-
* The Problem of China.
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tremely interesting view of the Chinese Problem I take a
gloomy view of the future of their country.
He who does not see the truth of your deductions can only be
he who does not want to see. They strike a chill into one's soul
especially when you deal with the American element. That
would indeed be a dreadful fate for China or any other country.
I feel your book the more because the only ray of hope you allow
is the advent of international socialism, the sort of thing to
which I cannot attach any sort of definite meaning. I have never
been able to find in any man's book or any man's talk anything
convincing enough to stand up for a moment against my deep-
seated sense of fatality governing this man-inhabited world.
After all it is but a system, not very recondite and not very plau-
sible. As a mere reverie it is not of a very high order and wears a
strange resemblance to a hungry man's dream of a gorgeous
feast guarded by a lot of beadles in cocked hats. But I know /ou
wouldn't expect me to put faith in any system. The only remedy
for Chinamen and for the rest of us is the change of hearts, but
looking at the history of the last 2000 years there is not much
reason to expect that thing, even if man has taken to flying a
great "uplift," no doubt, but no great change. He doesn't fly like
an eagle; he flies like a beetle. And you must have noticed how
ugly, ridiculous and fatuous is the flight of a beetle.
Your -chapter on Chinese character is the sort of marvellous
achievement that one would expect from you. It may not be
complete. That I don't know. But as it stands, in its light touch
and profound insight, it seems to me flawless. I have no diffi-
culty in accepting it, because I do believe in amenity allied to
barbarism, in compassion co-existing with complete brutality,
and in essential rectitude underlying the most obvious corrup-
tion. And on this last point I would offer for your reflection that
we ought not to attach too much importance to that trait of
character just because it is not a trait of character! At any
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
rate no more than in other races of mankind. Chinese corruption
is, I suspect, institutional: a mere method of paying salaries. Of
course it was very dangerous. And in that respect the Imperial
Edicts recommending honesty failed to affect the agents of the
Government But Chinese, essentially, are creatures of Edicts
and in every other sphere their characteristic is, I should say,
scrupulous honesty.
There is another suggestion of yours which terrifies me, and
arouses my compassion for the Chinese, even more than the
prospect of an Americanised China. It is your idea of some sort
of selected council, the strongly disciplined society arriving at
decisions etc. etc. (p. 244). If a constitution proclaimed in the
light of day, with at least a chance of being understood by the
people, is not to be relied on, then what trust could one put in a
self-appointed and probably secret association (which from the
nature of things must be above the law) to commend or con-
demn individuals or institutions? As it is unthinkable that you
should be a slave to formulas or a victim of self-delusion, it is
with the greatest diffidence that I raise my protest against your
contrivance which must par la force des choses and by the very
manner of its inception become but an association of mere
swelled-heads of the most dangerous kind. There is not enough
honour, virtue and selflessness in the world to make any such
council other than the greatest danger to every kind of moral,
mental and political independence. It would become a centre of
delation, intrigue and jealousy of the most debased kind. No
freedom of thought, no peace of heart, no genius, no virtue, no
individuality trying to raise its head above the subservient
mass, would be safe before the domination of such a council,
and the unavoidable demoralization of the instruments of its
power. For, I must suppose that you mean it to have power and
to have agents to exercise that power or else it would become
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as little substantial as if composed of angels of whom ten thou-
sand can sit on the point of a needle. But I wouldn't trust a
society of that kind even if composed of angels. . * . More! I
would not, my dear friend, (to address you in Salvation Army
style) trust that society if Bertrand Russell himself were, after
40 days of meditation and fasting, to undertake the selection of
the members. After saying this I may just as well resume my
wonted calm; for, indeed, F could not think of any stronger way
of expressing my utter dislike and mistrust of such an expedient
for working out the salvation of China.
I see in this morning's Times (this letter was begun yester-
day) a leader on your Problem of China which I hope will com-
fort and sustain you in the face of my savage attack. I meant it
to be deadly; but I perceive that on account of my age and infir-
mities there was never any need for you to fly the country or ask
for police protection. You will no doubt be glad to hear that my
body is disabled by a racking cough and my enterprising spirit
irretrievably tamed by an unaccountable depression. Thus are
the impious stricken, and things of the order that "passeth un-
derstanding" brought home to one! . . . But I will not treat
you to a meditation on my depression. That way madness lies.
Your truly Christian in its mansuetude note has just
reached me. I admire your capacity for forgiving sinners, and I
am warmed by the glow of your friendliness. But I protest
against your credulity in the matter of newspaper pars. I did not
know I was to stay in town to attend rehearsals. Which is the
rag that decreed it I wonder? The fact is I came up for just 4
hours and 20 min. last Wednesday; and that I may have to pay
another visit to the theatre (the whole thing is like an absurd
dream) one day this week. You can not doubt mon Compere
that I do want to see the child whose advent has brought about
this intimate relation between us. But I shrink from staying the
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
night in town. In fact I am afraid of it. This is no joke. Neither
is it a fact that I would shout on housetops. I am confiding it to
you as a sad truth. However this cannot last; and before long
Til make a special trip to see you all on an agreed day. Mean-
time my love to him special and exclusive. Please give my
duty to your wife as politeness dictates and as my true feel-
ings demand remember me most affectionately to ma tres
honorte Commere. And pray go on cultivating forgiveness to-
wards this insignificant and unworthy person who dares to sub-
scribe himself
Always yours,
JOSEPH CONRAD
Chelsea, S.W.
14.11.22
Dear Sir:
Herewith I return some of the literature you have sent for my
perusal.
One of the papers says "Why do thinking people vote
Labor."
Thinking people don't vote Labor at all, it is only those who
cannot see beyond their nose who vote Labor.
According to your Photo it does not look as though it is very
long since you left your cradle so I think you would be wise to
go home and suck your titty. The Electors of Chelsea want a
man of experience to represent them. Take my advice and leave
Politics to men of riper years. If you cannot remember the
Franco Prussian War of 1870 or the Russo Turkish War of
1876/7 then you are not old enough to be a Politician.
I can remember both those Wars and also the War of - /66
when the Battle of Sadowa was fought.
England had men of experience to represent them then.
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I am afraid we shall never get anyone like Lord Derby (The
Rupert of Debate) and Dizzy to lead us again.
Tours obedy^
WM. F. PHILPOTT
Parliamentary General Election, 15th November, 1922.
To the Electors of Chelsea
Dear Sir or Madam:
At the invitation of the Executive Committee of the Chelsea
Labour Party, I come before you as Labour candidate at the
forthcoming General Election. I have been for many years a
member of the Independent Labour Party, and I am in complete
agreement with the programme of the Labour Party as pub-
lished on October 26.
The Government which has been in power ever since the Ar-
mistice has done nothing during the past four years to restore
normal life to Europe. Our trade suffers because our customers
are ruined. This is the chief cause of the unemployment and
destitution, unparalleled in our previous history, from which
our country has suffered during the past two years. If we are to
regain any measure of prosperity, the first necessity is a wise
and firm foreign policy, leading to the revival of Eastern and
Central Europe, and avoiding such ignorant and ill-considered
adventures as nearly plunged us into war with the Turks. The
Labour Party is the only one whose foreign policy is sane and
reasonable, the only one which is likely to save Britain from
even worse disasters than those already suffered. The new Gov-
ernment, according to the statement of its own supporters, does
not differ from the old one on any point of policy. The country
had become aware of the incompetence of the Coalition Govern-
ment, and the major part of its supporters hope to avert the
wrath of the electors by pretending to be quite a different firm.
[239]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
It is an old device a little too old to be practised with success
at this time of day. Those who see the need of new policies must
support new men, not the same men under a new label.
There is need of drastic economy, but not at the expense of
the least fortunate members of the community, and above all
not at the expense of education and the care of children, upon
which depends the nation's future. What has been thrown away
in Irak and Chanak and such places has been wasted utterly,
and it is in these directions that we must look for a reduction in
our expenditure.
I am a strong supporter of the capital levy, and of the nation-
alization of mines and railways, with a great measure of control
by the workers in those industries. I hope to see similar meas-
ures adopted, in the course of time, in other industries.
The housing problem is one which must be dealt with at the
earliest possible moment. Something would be done to alleviate
the situation by the taxation of land values, which would hinder
the holding up of vacant land while the owner waits for a good
price. Much could be done if public bodies were to eliminate
capitalists' profits by employing the Building Guild. By these
methods, or by whatever methods prove available, houses must
be provided to meet the imperative need.
The main cure for unemployment must be the improvement
of our trade by the restoration of normal conditions on the Con-
tinent. In the meantime, it is unjust that those who are out of
work through no fault of their own should suffer destitution; for
the present, therefore, I am in f avour of the continuation of un-
employed benefit.
I am in favour of the removal of all inequalities in the law as
between men and women. In particular, I hold that every adult
citizen, male or female, ought to be entitled to a vote.
As a result of mismanagement since the armistice, our coun-
try and the world are faced with terrible dangers. The Labour
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Party has a clear and sane policy for dealing with these dangers.
I am strongly opposed to all suggestions of violent revolution,
and I am persuaded that only by constitutional methods can a
better state of affairs be brought about. But I see no hope of
improvement from parties which advocate a continuation of
the muddled vindictiveness which has brought Europe to the
brink of ruin. For the world at large, for our own country, and
for every man, woman and child in our country, the victory of
Labour is essential. On these grounds I appeal for your votes.
BERTRAND RUSSELL
10 Adelphi Terrace, W.C.2
[1922]
Dear Russell:
I should say yes with pleasure if the matter were in rny
hands; but, as you may imagine, I have so many calls that I
must leave it to the Labor Party, acting through the Fabian So-
ciety as far as I am concerned, to settle where I shall go. You
had better therefore send in a request at once to the Fabian Soci-
ety, 25 Tothill Street, Westminster, S.W.I, for a speech from
me.
I must warn you, however, that though, when I speak, the
hall is generally full, and the meeting is apparently very suc-
cessful, the people who run after and applaud me are just as
likely to vote for the enemy, or not vote at all, on polling day. I
addressed 13 gorgeous meetings at the last election; but not one
of my candidates got in.
Faithfully,
G. BERNARD SHAW
P.S. As you will see, this is a circular letter, which I send only
because it explains the situation. Nothing is settled yet except
that I am positively engaged on the 2nd, 3rd and 10th.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
I suppose it is too late to urge you not to waste any of your
own money on Chelsea, where no Progressive has a dog's
chance. In Dilke's day it was Radical; but Lord Cadogan re-
built it fashionably and drove all the Radicals across the
bridges to Battersea. It is exasperating that a reasonably win-
nable seat has not been found for you. I would not spend a far-
thing on it myself, even if I could finance the 400 or so Labor
candidates who would like to touch me for at least a fiver apiece.
From and to Jean Nicod France
15 June [1919]
Dear Mr. Russell:
We shall come with joy. We are both so happy to see you.
How nice of you to ask us!
I have not written to you all this time because I was doing
nothing good, and was in consequence a little ashamed.
Your Justice in War Time is slowly appearing in La Forge,
and is intended to be published in book-form afterwards. I
ought to have done better, I think.
And I have done no work, only studied some physics. I have
been thinking a tremendous time on the External World, with
no really clear results. Also, I have been yearning in vain to help
it a faire peau neuve.
So you will see us coming at the beginning of September at
Lulworth. We feel quite elated at the thought of being some
time with you.
Tours very sincerely,
JEAN NICOD
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53 rue Gazan
Paris XIV*
28th September 1919
Dear Mr. Russell:
I could not see Romain Holland, who is not in Paris now. I
shall write to him and send him your letter with mine.
We are not going to Rumania. I am going to Cahors to-
morrow, and Therese is staying here. There is now a prospect
of our going to Brazil in eighteen months. Of course I am ceas-
ing to believe in any of these things; but we are learning a great
deal of geography.
I have definitely arranged to write a thesis on the external
world. Part of it will be ready at Christmas, as I am being as-
sured that I shall find very little work at Cahors.
We hope to hear that you are back in Cambridge now.
You know how glad we both are to have seen you again.
Yours,
JEAN NICOD
1, rue Pot Trinquat, Cahors
20 April [1920]
Dear Mr. Russell:
Here is the geometry of the fish, as you said you liked it. It
will appear in the Revue de Metaphysique^ but I cannot re-
frain from sending it to you now as a prolongation of our talk. I
hope you will look through it, but please do not feel bound to
write to me about it. I know you are very busy.
It was so nice of you to stop. When I heard that you were to
come, it seemed like the realisation of a dream. This day with
you has been a great joy to me.
Tours 'very sincerely,
JEAN
I do not want the MS. back.
[243]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
Campagne Saunex
Pregny, Geneve
22 Sept. 1921
Dear Mr. Russell:
Do you know that your death was announced in a Japanese
paper? I sent a telegram to the University of Peking, who an-
swered "Recovered" but we were terribly anxious. We hope
you are quite well again now.
I shall leave this office in February or March, with some
money, and do nothing till next October at the very least. I do
hope that I shall see you.
Tours affectionately,
JEAN NICOD
70, Overstrand Mansions
Prince of Wales Road
Battersea,S.W.ll
2.10.21
Dear Nicod:
I have sent your query to Whitehead, as I have forgotten his
theory and never knew it very thoroughly. I will let you know
his answer as soon as I get it. I am glad your book is so nearly
done. Please let me see it when it is. I know about the
announcement of my death it was a fearful nuisance. It was
in the English and American papers too. I am practically well
now but I came as near dying as one can without going over the
edge Pneumonia it was. I was delirious for three weeks, and
I have no recollection of the time whatever, except a few dreams
of negroes singing in deserts, and of learned bodies that I
thought I had to address. The Doctor said to me afterwards:
"When you were ill you behaved like a true philosopher; every
time that you came to yourself you made a joke." I never had a
compliment that pleased me more.
[244]
Bertrand Russell with John and Kate
Kate Russell
John Russell
Bertrand Russell
(photo by Bassano Ltd)
Second Marriage
Dora and I are now married, but just as happy as we were
before. We both send our love to you both. It will be delightful
to see you when you leave Geneva. We shall be in London.
Yours aff.,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
31 Sydney Street
London, S.W.3
13.9.23
Dear Nicod:
I have been meaning to write to you for the last eight months,
but have somehow never done so. Did Keynes ever answer your
letter? He is now so busy with politics and money-making that I
doubt if he ever thinks about probability. He has become enor-
mously rich, and has acquired The Nation. He is Liberal, not
Labour.
Principia Mathematica is being reprinted, and I am writing a
new introduction, abolishing axiom of reducibility, and assum-
ing that functions of props are always truth-functions, and
functions of functions only occur through values of the func-
tions and are always extensional. I don't know if these assump-
tions are true, but it seems worth while to work out their conse-
quences.
What do you think of the enclosed proposal? I have under-
taken to try to get articles. I asked if they would admit French-
men, and they say yes, if they write in German or English. Will
you send me an article for them? I want to help them as much
as I can. Do.
All goes well with us. Dora expects another child about
Xmas time, and unfortunately I have to go to America to lecture
for three months at the New Year.
The world gets more and more dreadful. What a misfortune
not to have lived fifty years sooner. And now God has taken a
[245]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
hand at Tokyo. As yet, he beats human war-mongers, but they
will equal him before long.
Yours ever,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
From Moritz Schlick*
Philosophisches
Institut der Universitat
in Wien
Vienna, Sep. 9th 1923
Dear Mr. Russell:
Thank you most heartily for your kind letter. I was overjoyed
to receive your affirmative answer. I feel convinced that the fu-
ture of the magazine is safe since you have consented to lend
your help by being one of the editors. It is a pity, of course, that
you cannot send an article of your own immediately and that
you have not much hope of getting contributions from your
English and American friends during the next months, but we
must be patient and shall be glad to wait till you have more
time. I am sure that the scheme will work very well later on. It
already means a great deal to know that we have your support,
that your name will in some way be identified with the spirit of
the magazine.
Thank you for your further suggestions. In my opinion con-
tributions by M. Nicod would be most welcome, and I have no
doubt that none of the editors would object to French articles,
but unfortunately the publisher (who of course takes the busi-
ness standpoint) has declared that at present he cannot possibly
print anything in French, but I hope he will have nothing
against publishing articles by French authors in the German or
English language.
* Founder of the Vienna Circle.
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Second Marriage
I have written to Reichenbach about your suggestion con-
cerning the Polish logicians at Warsaw; I do not think there
will be any political difficulties in approaching them. I believe
we must be careful not to have too many articles dealing with
mathematical logic or written in symbolic form in the first is-
sues, as they might frighten away many readers, they must get
used to the new forms gradually.
I have asked Reichenbach to send you some offprints of his
chief papers; I hope you have received them by the time these
lines reach you.
I should like to ask you some philosophical questions, but I
am extremely busy just now. Our "Internationale Hochschul-
kurse" are beginning this week, with lecturers and students
from many countries. It would be splendid if you would be will-
ing to come to Vienna on a similar occasion next year.
Thanking you again I remain
yours -very sincerely ',
M. SCHLICK
Chemin des Coudriers
Petit Saconnex, Geneve
17 September, 1923
Dear Mr. Russell:
I should like very much to dedicate my book La Geometrie
dans le Monde sensible to you. It is not very good; but I still
hope that bits of it may be worth something. Will you accept it,
such as it is? I have thought of the following inscription:
A mon maitre
UHonorable Bertrand Russell
Membre de la SociSte Royale d'Angleterre
en temoignage de reconnaissante affection
[247]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
Can I let it go like that? The book is the chief one of my
theses. The other one is Le Probleme logique de Plnduction,
which is a criticism of Keynes. I think I prove there that two
instances differing only numerically (or in respects assumed to
be immaterial) do count for more than one only; also, that
Keynes 1 Limitation of Variety does not do what he thinks it
does. Both books will be printed in three weeks or so (although
they cannot be published till after their discussion en Sorbonne
some time next winter) .
Pve sent my ms. to Keynes, offering to print his answer along
with it. But he says he is too absorbed by other things; and
altogether, I fear that he does not take me seriously which is
sad, because I am sure my objections well deserve to be consid-
ered.
Physically, I am settling down to a state which is not health,
but which allows some measure of life, and may improve with
time.
We hope you three are flourishing, and send you our love.
JEAN NICOD
Chemin des Coudriers
Petit Saconnex, GenSve
19 Sept. 1923
Dear Mr. Russell:
I got your letter the very morning I had posted mine to you.
I should love to write an article for this new review. But I
have just sent one to the Revue de Metaphysique (on relations
of values [i.e. truth values] and relations of meanings in
Logic) and have nothing even half ready. I have been thinking
of a sequel to my book, dealing with a universe of perspectives
where objects are in motion (uniform) and Restricted Relativ-
ity applies, everything being as simple as possible. I would set
forth what the observer (more like an angel than a man) would
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Second Marriage
observe, and the order of his sensible world. What attracts me
to that sort of thing is its quality of freshness of vision to
take stock of a world as of something entirely new. But it may
well be rather childish, and I don't propose to go on with it until
you have seen the book itself and tell me it is worth while.
Since you are re-publishing Principia, I may remind you that
I have proved both Permutation and Association by help of the
other three primitive props (Tautology, Addition, and the syl-
logistic prop. ) , where I only changed the order of some letters.
It is in a Memoir I wrote for the B.A. degree. I have entirely
forgotten how it is done, but I daresay I could find it again for
you, if you wished to reduce your 5 prim, props to those three
(observe there is one with one letter, one with two letters, and
one with three letters ) .
Keynes did answer the letter I sent you. His answer con-
vinced me I was right on both points; so I went on with my
small book. It is a pity he will not do anything more for the
theory of Induction.
Your son does look pleased with the stones he holds. His ap-
pearance is splendid.
We send our love.
Yours ever,
JEAN NICOD
Dear Mr. Russell:
Jean has died on Saturday last after a short illness.
Je veux vous Yecrire pendant qdil repose encore pres de moi
dans cette maison oil il a tant travaille^ tant espere guerir et
on nous avons ete si heureux.
Vous savez combien il vous aimait quelle lumiere -vous
avez ete pour lui vous savez aussi Vetre delicieux et noble
qtfil etait. C^est absolument dchirant.
[249]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
Je "voudrais avoir des nouvelles de Dora.
Affectueusement a vous deux.
THERESE NICOD
GenSve 22 Juillet 1924
Dear Mr. Russell:
Please pardon me for not having thanked you sooner for the
Preface (or introduction, we shall call it what you think best) . I
do not tell you how grateful I am to you because I know you did
it for Jean.
I shall translate it as soon as I get some free time. We are
absolutely loaded with things to do.
Of course your preface is everything and more that we could
want it to be. I mean to say that it is very beautiful How
could I suggest a single alteration to it.
I remember that last winter I wrote to Jean that he was the
most beautiful type of humanity I knew. (I do not recollect
what about We had outbreaks like that from time to time)
and he answered immediately: "Moi le plus beau type d * human-
ity que je connais c*est Russell."
Thank you again most deeply.
Yours 'very sincerely,
THERESE NICOD
12 Chemin Thury
Geneve
le 19 octobre 1960
Cher Lord Russell:
Permettez-moi de rrfadresser d -vous a trovers toutes ces
annees. J'ai toujours eu ^intention de faire une rendition des
theses de Jean Nicod et je sais qtfaujourd*hui encore, sa pensee
rfest pas oubliee. J^ai eu F occasion de rencontrer dernier ement
M. Jean Hyppolite, Directeur de FEcole normale superieure qui
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Second Marriage
mi a ~orvement conseillee de reediter en premier Le problSme
logique de 1'induction dont il avait garde un souvenir tout a fait
precis et qdil recommande aux jeunes philosophes.
Parmi ceux qui m*ont donne le meme conseil je citerai le
Professeur G onset h de Zurich , M. Gaston B ache lard, Jean La-
croix, etc. J^ai meme trouve, Pautre jour, par hasard, dans un
manuel paru en 1959 un passage intitule: "Axiome de Nicod?
Uoumage reedite paraitrait a Paris, aux Presses unroersi-
taires de France, qui en assureront la diffusion.
Je viens vous demander, si vous jugez cette rendition oppor-
tune, de bien couloir accepter d?ecrire quelques lignes qui
s^ajouteraient a la premiere preface de M. Lalande. Qui mieux
que -vous pourrait donner a ce tardif hommage le poids et
?em>ol?
Veuillez, cher Lord Russell, recevoir Vassurance de ma pro-
fonde admiration et de mes sentiments respectueux.
THERESE NICOD
Je vous ecris a une adresse que fai trowvee par hasard dans
un magazine et dont je suis si pen sfire que je me permets de
recommander le pli.
Plas Penrhyn
1 November, 1960
Dear Therese Nicod:
Thank you for your letter of October 19. 1 was very glad to
have news of you. I entirely agree with you that it is very desir-
able to bring out a new edition of Nicod's work on induction
which I think is very important and which has not received ade-
quate recognition. I am quite willing to make a short addition
to the preface by Monsieur Lalande. I suppose that you are in
communication with Sir Roy Harrod (Christ Church, Oxford)
[251]
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
who has been for some time concerned in obtaining a better
English translation of NicocTs work than the one made long
ago.
I was very sorry to hear of the death of your son.
If ever you are in England it would be a very great pleasure to
see you.
Tours very sincerely,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
Hotel Metropole
Minehead, Somerset
11 April 1923
My dear Russell:*
The other day I read your laudably unapologetic Apologia
from cover to cover with unflagging interest. I gather from your
Au Revoir that it is to be continued in your next.
I was brought up or left to bring myself up on your
father's plan all through. I can imagine nothing more damnable
than the position of a boy started that way, and then, when he
had acquired an adult f reethinking habit of mind and character,
being thrust back into the P.L. sort of tutelage. You say you
have a bad temper; but the fact that you neither burnt the lodge
nor murdered Uncle Rollo is your eternal testimonial to the con-
trary.
No doubt Winchester saved Rollo and his shrine. Your de-
scription of the school is the only really descriptive description
of one of the great boy farms I have ever read.
ever,
G. BERNARD SHAW
* This letter was addressed to my brother and is about his My Life and Advert-
^ published 1923.
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Extract from Unity ', Chicago 19 Jun. 1924
Bertrand Russell has returned to England, and one of the
most impressive tours ever made in this country by a distin-
guished foreigner has thus come to an end. Everywhere Profes-
sor Russell spoke, he was greeted by great audiences with rap-
turous enthusiasm, and listened to with a touching interest and
reverence. At most of his meetings, admission was charged, fre-
quently at regular theatre rates, but this seemed to make no
difference in the attendance. Throngs of eager men and women
crowded the auditoriums where he appeared, and vied with one
another in paying homage to the distinguished man whom they
so honored. From this point of view, Bertrand Russell's visit
was a triumph. From another and quite different point of view,
it was a failure and disgrace! What was the great public at large
allowed to know about this famous Englishman and the mes-
sage which he brought across the seas to us Americans? Noth-
ing! The silence of our newspapers was wellnigh complete.
Only when Mr. Russell got into a controversy with President
Lowell, of Harvard, which gave opportunity to make the eagle
scream, did his name or words appear in any conspicuous fash-
ion in our public prints. The same journals which publish col-
umns of stuff about millionaires, actors, singers, prizefighters
and soldiers from abroad, and blazen forth their most casual
comments about anything from women to the weather, reported
almost nothing about this one of the most eminent Europeans of
the day. But this is not the worst. Turn from the newspapers to
the colleges and universities! Here is Mr. Russell, the ablest
and most famous mathematical philosopher of modern times
for long an honored Fellow of Cambridge, England author
of learned essays and treatises which are the standard authori-
ties in their field at the least, a great scholar, at the most, one
of the greatest of scholars! But how many colleges in America
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
officially invited him to their halls? How many gave him de-
grees of honor? So far as we know, Smith College was the only
institution which officially received him as a lecturer, though
we understand that he appeared also at the Harvard Union.
Practically speaking, Professor Russell was ignored. A better
measure of the ignorance, cowardice and Pharisaism of Ameri-
can academic life we have never seen !
From T. S. Eliot
9, Clarence Gate Gardens
N.W.I
15.X.23
Dear Bertie:
I was delighted to get your letter. It gives me very great
pleasure to know that you like the Waste Land> and especially
Part V which in my opinion is not only the best part, but the
only part that justifies the whole, at all. It means a great deal to
me that you like it.
I must tell you that 18 months ago, before it was published
anywhere, Vivien wanted me to send you the MS. to read, be-
cause she was sure that you were one of the very few persons
who might possibly see anything in it. But we felt that you
might prefer to have nothing to do with us: It is absurd to say
that we wished to drop you.
Vivien has had a frightful illness, and nearly died, in the
spring as Ottoline has probably told you. And that she has
been in the country ever since. She has not yet come back.
Dinner is rather difficult for me at present. But might I come
to tea with you on Saturday? I should like to see you very much
there have been many times when I have thought that.
Tours
T.S.E.
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9, Clarence Gate Gardens
N.W.I
21 April. [1925]
Dear Bertie:
If you are still in London I should very much like to see you.
My times and places are very restricted, but it is unnecessary
to mention them unless I hear from you.
I want words from you which only you can give. But if you
have now ceased to care at all about either of us, just write on a
slip "I do not care to see you" or "I do not care to see either of
you" and I will understand.
In case of that, I will tell you now that everything has turned
out as you predicted 10 years ago. You are a great psychologist.
Yours,
T.S.E.
The Criterion
17,ThaviesInn
London, E.C.I
7 May [1925]
My dear Bertie:
Thank you very much indeed for your letter. As you say, it is
very difficult for you to make suggestions until I can see you.
For instance, I don't know to what extent the changes which
have taken place, since we were in touch with you, would seem
to you material. What you suggest seems to me of course what
should have been done years ago. Since then her* health is a
thousand times worse. Her only alternative would be to live
quite alone if she could. And the fact that living with me has
done her so much damage does not help me to come to any deci-
sion. I need the help of someone who understands her I find
her still perpetually baffling and deceptive. She seems to me like
* This refers to his first wife.
[2551
The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
a child of 6 with an immensely clever and precocious mind. She
writes extremely well (stories, etc.) and great originality. And
I can never escape from the spell of her persuasive (even coer-
cive) gift of argument.
Well, thank you very much, Bertie I feel quite desperate. I
hope to see you in the Autumn.
Yours ever,
T.S.E.
From my brother Frank
50 Cleveland Square
London, W.2
8 June, 1925
Dear Bertie:
I lunched with the Aunt Agatha on Friday, and she has even
more tedious reserves for you. She began by being very sighful
and P.L.y about Alys, and said how she still loved you and how
determined you had been to marry her. She infuriated me so
that I reminded her at last that at the time the P.L. view, which
she had fully shared, was that you were an innocent young man
pursued by a designing woman, and that the one view was not
any truer than the other. Then she went on to Birth Control,
with a sniff at Dora, and aggravated me to such an extent that I
was bound to tell her that I did not think old women of seventy-
three were entitled to legislate for young ones of twenty-five.
Thereupon she assured me that she had been twenty-five herself
once, but I unfortunately lacked the courage to say Never! You
can gather how provoking she must have been from the fact
that I was driven to reply, which I don't generally do. She then
went on to try and make mischief about you and Elizabeth, by
telling me how much you were in love with Elizabeth and how
regularly you saw her.* She really is a villainous old cat.
* This, of course, was quite untrue.
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In order to take the taste of her out of my mouth when I got
home I read, or at any rate looked through, three books I had
not seen before: Daedalus, Icarus and Hypatia. Haldane's
"Test Tube Mothers" gave me the shivers: I prefer the way of
the music-hall song! I liked what I read of Dora's book, and
intend to read it more carefully.
Will you tell Dora that I am not the least anxious to go to the
Fabian people, as it would bore me to tears, and would only
have done it to back her up, so I hope she won't put anyone else
on to me. Dora says you are fat, and something that at first I
thought was "beneath consideration," which gave me a faint
hope that you had ceased to be a philosopher, but on looking at
it again I see that it is "writing about education."
Dorothy Wrinch said that she was coming down to see you
early in August, and I suggested driving her down, but I sup-
pose that means taking old Heavyweight too. The time she sug-
gested, shortly after the August Bank Holiday, would suit me if
you could have me then. You will no doubt be surprised to hear
that I am going to the British Ass. this year, as it is held at
Southampton, quite convenient.
Damn that acid old spinster!
Tours affectionately,
RUSSELL
50 Cleveland Square
London, W.2
15 June, 1925
Dear Bertie:
Thanks for your amusing letter. I was going to write to you
anyhow, because I have been reading your delightful What I
Believe. My word! You have compressed it, and succeeded in
saying a good many things calculated to be thoroughly annoy-
ing and disconcerting to the virtuous in the space. I am so de-
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lighted with it that I am going to get half-a-dozen copies and
give them away where I think they will be appreciated. I like
your conclusive proof that bishops are much more brutal than
Aztecs who go in for human sacrifices. I don't think I shall try a
copy on my tame bishop because, although I am very fond of
him, intellect is not his strong point.
I am going to write to Dorothy and make your suggestion.
Yours affectionately,
RUSSELL
8 Woburn Place, W.C.I
Gresham Hotel, London
June 21. 1925
Dear Mr. Russell:
Shortly after you left in March I found a publisher for my
book, a semi-private company in Paris. Several weeks ago a few
of the proofs reached me. Yesterday morning I found myself
before the Magistrate at Bow Street after a night in prison.
In the afternoon of June 19 an officer from Scotland Yard
called to see me bringing with him a bundle of the proofs of my
book which he described as "grossly obscene." He said I would
have to appear before the Magistrate on the charge of sending
improper matter through the post. He examined my passport
and found it had not been registered. I was arrested and es-
corted to Bow Street to register my passport, and detained over
night. The Alien Officer brought a charge of failure to register
my passport to which I pleaded guilty before the Magistrate
and offered explanation of my negligence. The Scotland Yard
agent brought a charge of sending obscene literature by post
and asked the Magistrate to punish (I believe he said) and
make arrangement for my deportation. The punishment, I
believe, refers to a heavy fine or imprisonment.
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I am on bail, 10 pounds, and the case is to be tried on Satur-
day June 27 at about 11 o'clock, I shall find out definitely to-
morrow as to the hour.
Mr. Ewer thinks he can find an attorney to take my case. I
shall go to the American Consul tomorrow and talk with others
here who know me. Shall probably see Dr. Ellis tomorrow.
If you can offer any advice I shall be glad.
Sincerely yours,
GERTRUDE BEASLY
Miss Beasly was a schoolteacher from Texas, who wrote an
autobiography. It was truthful, which is illegal.
To Max Newman*
24th April 1928
Dear Newman:
Many thanks for sending me the off-print of your article
about me in Mind. I read it with great interest and some dis-
may. You make it entirely obvious that my statements to the
effect that nothing is known about the physical world except its
structure are either false or trivial, and I am somewhat ashamed
at not having noticed the point for myself.
It is of course obvious, as you point out, that the only effec-
tive assertion about the physical world involved in saying that it
is susceptible to such and such a structure is an assertion about
its cardinal number. (This by the way is not quite so trivial an
assertion as it would seem to be, if, as is not improbable, the
cardinal number involved is finite. This, however, is not a point
upon which I wish to lay stress. ) It was quite clear to me, as I
read your article, that I had not really intended to say what in
fact I did say, that nothing is known about the physical world
* The distinguished mathematician.
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
except its structure. I had always assumed spacio-temporal con-
tinuity with the world of percepts, that is to say, I had assumed
that there might be co-punctuality between percepts and non-
percepts, and even that one could pass by a finite number of
steps from one event to another compresent with it, from one
end of the universe to the other. And co-punctuality I regarded
as a relation which might exist among percepts and is itself per-
ceptible.
I have not yet had time to think out how far the admission of
co-punctuality alone in addition to structure would protect me
from your criticisms, nor yet how far it would weaken the plau-
sibility of my metaphysic. What I did realise was that spacio-
temporal continuity of percepts and non-percepts was so axio-
matic in my thought that I failed to notice that my statements
appeared to deny it.
I am at the moment much too busy to give the matter proper
thought, but I should be grateful if you could find time to let me
know whether you have any ideas on the matter which are not
merely negative, since it does not appear from your article what
your own position is. I gathered in talking with you that you
favoured phenomenalism, but I do not quite know how defi-
nitely you do so.
Yours sincerely )
BERTRAND RUSSELL
To Harold Laski
12th May 1928
My dear Laski:
I am afraid it is quite impossible for me to speak to the So-
cratic Society this term, much as I should like to do so. But the
fact is I am too busy to have any ideas worth having, like Mrs.
Eddy who told a friend of mine that she was too busy to become
the second incarnation.
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I am not at all surprised that Bentham suggests companion-
ate marriage; in fact one could almost have inferred it. I discov-
ered accidentally from an old envelope used as a bookmark that
at the moment of my birth my father was reading Bentham's
Table of the Springs of Action. Evidently this caused me to be
Benthamitically "conditioned," as he has always seemed to me a
most sensible fellow. But as a schoolmaster, I am gradually be-
ing driven to more radical proposals, such as those of Plato. If
there were an international government I should seriously be in
favour of the root and branch abolition of the family, but as
things are, I am afraid it would make people more patriotic.
Tours ever,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
To Mr. Gardner Jackson
28th May 1929
Dear Mr. Jackson:
I am sorry I shall not be in America at the time of your meet-
ing on August 23rd, the more so as I shall be there not so very
long after that. I think you are quite right to do everything pos-
sible to keep alive the memory of Sacco and Vanzetti. It must, I
think, be clear to any unprejudiced person that there was not
such evidence against them as to warrant a conviction, and I
have no doubt in my own mind that they were wholly innocent.
I am forced to conclude that they were condemned on account of
their political opinions and that men who ought to have known
better allowed themselves to express misleading views as to the
evidence because they held that men with such opinions have no
right to live. A view of this sort is one which is very dangerous,
since it transfers from the theological to the political sphere a
form of persecution which it was thought that civilized coun-
tries had outgrown. One is not so surprised at occurrences of
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this sort in Hungary or Lithuania, but in America they must be
matters of grave concern to all who care for freedom of opinion.
Yours sincerely ,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
P.S. I hope that out of the above you can make a message for
the meeting; if you do not think it suitable, please let me know,
and I will concoct another.
From and to Mr. C. L. Aiken
8, Plympton St.
Cambridge, Mass.
March 2, 1930
My dear Mr. Russell:
I am preparing a free-lance article on the subject of parasitic
nuisances who bedevil authors: autograph and photograph
hunters, those thoughtless myriads who expect free criticism,
poems, speeches, lectures, jobs, and who in general impose on
the literary professional. (I suppose you will place me in the
same category, but hope you can feel that the end justifies the
means in this case. )
Would you be so good as to send me an account of your
grievances, the length and nature of which of course I leave to
you?
Very truly yours
CLARICE LORENZ AIKEN
19th March 1930
Dear Mr. Aiken:
In common with other authors, I suffer a good deal from per-
sons who think that an author ought to do their work for them.
Apart from autograph hunters, I get large numbers of letters
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from persons who wish me to copy out for them the appropriate
entry in Who's Who, or ask me my opinion on points which I
have fully discussed in print.
I get many letters from Hindus, beseeching me to adopt some
form of mysticism, from young Americans, asking me where I
think the line should be drawn in petting, and from Poles, urg-
ing me to admit that while all other nationalism may be bad
that of Poland is wholly noble.
I get letters from engineers who cannot understand Einstein,
and from parsons who think that I cannot understand Genesis,
from husbands whose wives have deserted them not (they
say) that that would matter, but the wives have taken the furni-
ture with them, and what in these circumstances should an en-
lightened male do?
I get letters from Jews to say that Solomon was not a polyga-
mist, and from Catholics to say that Torquemada was not a per-
secutor. I get letters (concerning whose genuineness I am sus-
picious ) trying to get me to advocate abortion, and I get letters
from young mothers asking my opinion of bottle-feeding.
I am sorry to say that most of the subjects dealt with by my
correspondents have escaped my memory at the moment, but
the few that I have mentioned may serve as a sample.
Yours very truly,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
5th May 1930
Dear Miss Brooks: 31 '
I am not sure whether you are right in saying that the prob-
lem of America is greater than that of China. It is likely that
America will be more important during the next century or two,
* Who became the Rev. Rachel Gleason Brooks, for whose still unpublished book
on China I in 1931 wrote a preface.
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but after that it may well be the turn of China. I think America
is very worrying. There is something incredibly wrong with
human relations in your country. We have a number of Ameri-
can children at our school, and I am amazed at their mothers'
instinctive incompetence. The fount of affection seems to have
dried up. I suppose all Western civilization is going to go the
same way, and I expect all our Western races to die out, with
the possible exception of the Spaniards and Portuguese. Alter-
natively the State may take to breeding the necessary citizens
and educating them as Janissaries without family ties. Read
John B. Watson on mothers. I used to think him mad; now I
only think him American; that is to say, the mothers that he has
known have been American mothers. The result of this physical
aloofness is that the child grows up filled with hatred against
the world and anxious to distinguish himself as a criminal, like
Leopold and Loeb.
Tours sincerely ,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
Here is part of the preface 1 -wrote:
In view of the aggression of Western nations, the Chinese
who were in many respects more civilized than ourselves and at
a higher ethical level, were faced with the necessity of develop-
ing a policy with more military efficacy than could be derived
from the Confucian teaching. Social life in Old China was
based upon the family. Sun Yat Sen justly perceived that if
China was to resist successfully the onslaughts of military na-
tions, it would be necessary to substitute the state for the
family; and patriotism for filial piety in a word, the Chinese
had to choose whether they would die as saints or live as sin-
ners. Under Christian influence they chose the latter alternative.
Assuming the nationalist (Chiang Kai Shek) government to
be successful, the outcome must be to add another and very im-
portant member to the ruthless militaristic governments which
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compete in everything except the destruction of civilization on
which task alone they are prepared to cooperate. All the intel-
lect, all the heroism, all the martyrdoms, and agonizing disillu-
sionments of Chinese history since 1911, will have led up only
to this: to create a new force for evil and a new obstacle to the
peace of the world. The history of Japan should have taught the
West caution. But Western civilization with all its intelligence
is as blind in its operation as an avalanche, and must take its
course to what dire conclusion, I dare not guess.
In her book This is Your Inheritance: A History of the
Chemung County, N. Y. Branch of the Brooks Family (p. 167,
published by Century House, Watkins Glen, New York,
U.S.A., 1963) she wrote: "Bertrand Russell's preface (omit-
ting the laudatory remarks about the author) sums up what
happened during our lifetime in China. . . . This preface was
taken down by me in the parlor of the Mayflower hotel in
Akron, Ohio on the morning of Dec. lst y 1931 as Mr. Russell
paced the floor, smoking his pipe. Then he signed it and tve
went to the railroad station; he to go to another lecturing ap-
pointment and I to return to Oberlin."
To H. G. Wells
24th May '28
My dear E.G.:
Thank you very much for sending me your book on The
Open Conspiracy. I have read it with the most complete sympa-
thy, and I do not know of anything with which I agree more
entirely. I enjoyed immensely your fable about Provinder Is-
land. I am, I think, somewhat less optimistic than you are,
probably owing to the fact that I was in opposition to the mass
of mankind during the war, and thus acquired the habit of feel-
ing helpless.
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You speak for example, of getting men of science to join the
Open Conspiracy, but I should think there is hardly a single one
who would do so, with the exception of Einstein a not unim-
portant exception I admit. The rest in this country would desire
knighthoods, in France to become mernbres de Pinstituf, and so
on. Even among younger men, I believe your support would be
very meagre. Julian Huxley would not be willing to give up his
flirtations with the episcopate; Haldane would not forego the
pleasure to be derived from the next war.
I was interested to read what you say about schools and edu-
cation generally, and that you advocate "a certain sectarianism
of domestic and social life in the interests of its children" and
"grouping of its families and the establishment of its own
schools." It was the feeling of this necessity which led us to
found Beacon Hill School, and I am every day more convinced
that people who have the sort of ideas that we have ought not to
expose their children to obscurantist influence, more especially
during their early years when these influences can operate upon
what will be their unconscious in adult life.
This brings me to a matter which I approach with some hesi-
tation, but which I had decided to write to you about before I
read your book. This school is costing me about 2000 a year,
that is to say very nearly the whole of my income. I do not think
that this is due to any incompetence in management; in fact all
experimental schools that I have ever heard of have been expen-
sive propositions. My income is precarious since it depends
upon the tastes of American readers who are notoriously fickle,
and I am therefore very uncertain as to whether I shall be able
to keep the school going. In order to be able to do so I should
need donations amounting to about 1000 a year. I have been
wondering whether you would be willing to help in any way
towards the obtaining of this sum, either directly or by writing
an appeal which might influence progressive Americans. I
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should be very grateful if you would let me know whether you
would consider anything of the sort. You will see of course that
an appeal written by Dora and me is less effective than one from
an impartial pen, especially if that pen were yours.
I believe profoundly in the importance of what we are doing
here. If I were to put into one single phrase our educational
objects, I should say that we aim at training initiative without
diminishing its strength. I have long held that stupidity is very
largely the result of fear leading to mental inhibitions, and the
experience that we are having with our children confirms me in
this view. Their interest in science is at once passionate and in-
telligent, and their desire to understand the world in which they
live exceeds enormously that of children brought up with the
usual taboos upon curiosity. What we are doing is of course
only an experiment on a small scale, but I confidently expect its
results to be very important indeed. You will realise that hardly
any other educational reformers lay much stress upon intelli-
gence. A. S. Neill, for example, who is in many ways an admi-
rable man, allows such complete liberty that his children fail to
get the necessary training and are always going to the cinema,
when they might otherwise be interested in things of more
value. Absence of opportunity for exciting pleasures at this
place is, I think, an important factor in the development of the
children's intellectual interests. I note what you say in your
book on the subject of amusements, and I agree with it very
strongly.
I hope that if you are back in England you will pay a visit to
this school and see what we are doing.
Yours very sincerely ,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
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FromandtoA.S.Neill*
Summerhill,
Lyme Regis, Dorset
23.3.26
Dear Mr. Russell:
I marvel that two men, working from different angles, should
arrive at essentially the same conclusions. Your book and mine
are complementary. It may be that the only difference between
us comes from our respective complexes. I observe that you say
little or nothing about handwork in education. My hobby has
always been handwork, and where your child asks you about
stars my pupils ask me about steels and screw threads. Possibly
also I attach more importance to emotion in education than you
do.
I read your book with great interest and with very little dis-
agreement. Your method of overcoming your boy's fear of the
sea I disagreed with heartily! An introverted boy might react
with the thought: "Daddy wants to drown me." My complex
again . . . arising from my dealing with neurotics mostly.
I have no first-hand knowledge of early childhood, for I am so
far unmarried, but your advices about early childhood seem to
me to be excellent. Your attitude to sex instruction and mastur-
bation is splendid and you put it in a way that will not shock
and offend. (I have not that art! )
I do not share your enthusiasm for Montessori. I cannot
agree with a system set up by a strong churchwoman with a
strict moral aim. Her orderliness to me is a counterblast against
original sin. Besides I see no virtue in orderliness at all. My
workshop is always in a mess but my handwork isn't. My
pupils have no interest in orderliness until they come to puberty
or thereabouts. You may find that at the age of five your chil-
dren will have no use for Montessori apparatus. Why not use
* The progressive schoolmaster.
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the apparatus to make a train with? I argued this out with
Madame Macaroni, Montessori's chief lieutenant a few years
ago. Is it not our awful attitude to learning that warps our out-
look f After all a train is a reality, while an inset frame is purely
artificial. I never use artificial apparatus. My apparatus in the
school is books, tools, test tubes, compasses. Montessori wants
to direct a child. I don't.
By the way, to go back to the sea fear, I have two boys who
never enter the water. My nephew age nine (the watch-breaker
of the book) and an introverted boy of eleven who is full of
fears. I have advised the other children to make no mention of
the sea, never to sneer at the two, never to try and persuade
them to bathe. If they do not come to bathing from their own
inner Drang . , . well, it does not much matter. One of my
best friends, old Dauvit in my native village, is 89 and he never
had a bath in his life.
You will be interested to know Homer Lane's theory about
time-table sucking. He used to advocate giving a child the
breast whenever it demanded it. He held that in sucking there
are two components . . . pleasure and nutrition. The time-
table child accumulates both components, and when the suck-
ing begins the pleasure component goes away with a rush and is
satisfied in a sort of orgasm. But the nutrition element is unsat-
isfied, and he held that many cases of mal-nutrition were due to
this factor, that the child stopped sucking before the nutrition
urge was satisfied.
To me the most interesting thing about your book is that it is
scholarly (nasty word) in the sense that it is written by a man
who knows history and science. I am ignorant of both and I
think that my own conclusions come partly from a blind intui-
tion. I say again that it is marvelous that we should reach very
much the same philosophy of education. It is the only possible
philosophy today, but we cannot hope to do much in the attack
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
against schools from Eton to the L.C.C. Our only hope is the
individual parent.
My chief difficulty is the parent, for my pupils are products
of ignorant and savage parents. I have much fear that one or
two of them, shocked by my book, may withdraw their children.
That would be tragedy.
Well, thank you ever so much for the book. It is the only
book on education that I have read that does not make me
swear. All the others are morals disguised as education.
One warning however . . . there is always the chance that
your son may want to join the Primrose League one day! One in
ten million chance, but we must face the fact that human nature
has not yet fitted into any cause and effect scheme; and never
will fit in.
If you ever motor to your Cornwall home do stop and see us
here.
Tours very truly,
A. S. NEILL
Summerhill School
Leiston, Suffolk
18.12.30
Dear Russell:
Have you any political influence? The Labour Ministry are
refusing to let me employ a Frenchman to teach French. The
chap I want is with me now, has been analysed and is a tiptop
man to deal with my bunch of problem kids. Other schools have
natives to teach their languages . . . and I naturally ask why
the hell a damned department should dictate to me about my
educational ways. I have given the dept a full account of the
man and why he is necessary to me and the fools reply: "But the
Dept is not satisfied that a British subject could not be trained
in the special methods of teaching in operation in your school."
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Have you any political bigbug friend who would or could get
behind the bloody idiots who control our departments? I am
wild as hell.
Cheerio, help me if you can. I know George Lansbury but
hesitate to approach him as he will have enough to do in his
own dept.
Yours,
A. S. NEILL
20th Dec. 30
Dear Neill:
What you tell me is quite outrageous. I have written to
Charles Trevelyan and Miss Bondfield, and I enclose copies of
my letters to them.
I wonder whether you made the mistake of mentioning
psycho-analysis in your application. You know, of course, from
Homer Lane's case that policemen regard psycho-analysis as
merely a cloak for crime. The only ground to put before the
department is that Frenchmen are apt to know French better
than Englishmen do. The more the department enquires into
your methods, the more it will wish to hamper you. Nobody is
allowed to do any good in this country except by means of trick-
ery and deceit.
Tours ever,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
To Charles Trevelyan
20th Dec. 30
Dear Trevelyan:
A. S. Neill, of Summerhill School, Leiston, Suffolk, who is,
as you probably know, very distinguished in the educational
world, having developed from a conventional school dominie
into one of the most original and successful innovators of our
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
time, writes to me to say that the Ministry of Labour is refusing
to allow him to continue to employ Frenchmen to teach French.
He has at present a French master whose services he wishes to
retain, but the Ministry of Labour has officially informed him
that Englishmen speak French just as well as Frenchmen do,
and that his present master is not to be allowed to stay.
I think you will agree with me that this sort of thing is intol-
erable. I know that many of the most important questions in
education do not come under your department but are decided
by policemen whose judgment is taken on the question whether
a foreigner is needed in an educational post. If the principles
upon which the Alien Act is administered had been applied in
Italy in the 15th century, the Western world would never have
acquired a knowledge of Greek and the Renaissance could not
have taken place.
Although the matter is outside your department, I cannot
doubt that the slightest word from you would cause the Minis-
try of Labour to alter its decision. A. S. Neill is a man of inter-
national reputation, and I hate the thought of what he may do to
hold up British Bumbledom to ridicule throughout the civilised
world. If you could do anything to set the matter right, you will
greatly relieve my anxiety on this score.
Tours very sincerely,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
P.S. I have also written to Miss Bondfield on this matter.
Summerhill School
Leiston, Suffolk
22.12.30
Dear Russell:
Good man! That's the stuff to give the troops. Whatever the
result accept my thanks. I didn't mention psychoanalysis to
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them. I applied on the usual form and they wrote asking me
what precise steps I had taken "to find a teacher of French who
was British or an alien already resident in this country." Then I
told them that I wanted a Frenchman but that any blinking
Frenchie wouldn't do ... that mine was a psychological
school and any teacher had to be not only an expert in his sub-
ject but also in handling neurotic kids.
Apart from this display of what you call Bumbledom I guess
that there will be some battle when Trevelyan's Committee on
Private Schools issues its report. You and I will have to fight
like hell against having a few stupid inspectors mucking about
demanding why Tommy can't read. Any inspector coming to
me now would certainly be greeted by Colin (aged 6 ) with the
friendly words, "Who the fucking hell are you?" So that we
must fight to keep Whitehall out of our schools.
Fll let you know what happens.
Many thanks,
Yours,
A. S. NEILL
About time that you and I met again and compared notes.
Leiston. 31.12.30
Dear Russell:
You have done the deed. The letter [from the Ministry of
Labour] is a nasty one but I guess that the bloke as wrote it was
in a nasty position. Sounds to me like a good prose Hymn of
Hate.
I have agreed to his conditions . . . feeling like slapping
the blighter in the eye at the same time. It is my first experience
with the bureaucracy and I am apt to forget that I am dealing
with a machine.
Many thanks for your ready help. My next approach to you
may be when that Committee on Private Schools gets busy.
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They will call in all the respectable old deadheads of education
as expert witnesses (Badley and Co) and unless men of mo-
ment like you make a fight for it we (the out and outer Bolshies
of education) will be ignored. Then we'll have to put up with
the nice rules advocated by the diehards. Can't we get up a
league of heretical dominies called the "AnaPMsts?
Yours with much gratitude,
A. S. NEILL
5th Jan. 31
DearNeill:
Thank you for your letter and for the information about your
French teacher. I am sorry you accepted the Ministry of La-
bour's terms, as they were on the run and could, I think, have
been induced to grant unconditional permission.
I suppose you do not mind if I express to Miss Bondfield my
low opinion of her officials, and to Trevelyan my ditto of Miss
Bondfield? It is quite possible that the Ministry may still decide
to let you keep your present master indefinitely. I am going
away for a short holiday, and I am therefore dictating these let-
ters now to my secretary who will not send them until she
hears from you that you are willing they should go. Will you
therefore be so kind as to send a line to her (Mrs. O. Harring-
ton), and not to me, as to whether you are willing the letters
should go.
Yours ever,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
Neill agreed to my sending the following letters:
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To Miss Margaret Bondfield
12th Jan. 31
Dear Miss Bondfield:
I am much obliged to you for looking into the matter of Mr.
A. S. NeilPs French teacher. I doubt whether you are aware that
in granting him permission to retain his present teacher for one
year your office made it a condition that he should not even ask
to retain his present teacher after the end of that year.
I do not believe that you have at any time been in charge of a
school, but if you had, you would know that to change one's
teachers once a year is to increase enormously the difficulty of
achieving any kind of success. What would the headmaster of
one of our great public schools say to your office if it were to
insist that he should change his teachers once a year? Mr. Neill
is attempting an experiment which everybody interested in
modern education considers very important, and it seems a pity
that the activities of the Government in regard to him should be
confined to making a fair trial of the experiment impossible. I
have no doubt whatever that you will agree with me in this, and
that some subordinate has failed to carry out your wishes in this
matter.
With apologies for troubling you,
I remain,
Tours sincerely ,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
To Charles Trevelyan
12th Jan. 31
Dear Charles:
Thank you very much for the trouble you have taken in re-
gard to the French teacher at A. S. NeilPs school. The Ministry
of Labour have granted him permission to stay for one year, but
on condition that Neill does not ask to have his leave extended
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
beyond that time. You will, I think, agree with me that this is an
extraordinary condition to have made. Neill has accepted it, as
he has to yield to force majeure, but there cannot be any con-
ceivable justification for it. Anybody who has ever run a school
knows that perpetual change of masters is intolerable. What
would the Headmaster of Harrow think if the Ministry of La-
bour obliged him to change his masters once a year?
Neill is trying an experiment which everybody interested in
education considers most important, and Whitehall is doing
what it can to make it a failure. I do not myself feel bound by
NeilPs undertaking, and I see no reason why intelligent people
who are doing important work should submit tamely to the dic-
tation of ignorant busybodies, such as the officials in the Minis-
try of Labour appear to be. I am quite sure that you agree with
me in this.
Thanking you again,
Yours -very sincerely,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
To and from A. S. Neill
27th Jan. 31
Dear Neill:
As you will see from the enclosed, there is nothing to be got
out of the Ministry of Labour.
I have written a reply which I enclose, but I have not sent it.
If you think it will further your case, you are at liberty to send
it; but remember Miss Bondfield is celibate.
Tours ever,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
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Second Marriage
The enclosed reply to the Ministry of Labour:
27th Jan. 31
Dear Sir:
Thank you very much for your letter of January 26th. I quite
understand the principle of confining employment as far as pos-
sible to the British without regard for efficiency. I think, how-
ever, that the Ministry is not applying the principle sufficiently
widely. I know many Englishmen who have married foreigners,
and many English potential wives who are out of a job. Would
not a year be long enough to train an English wife to replace the
existing foreign one in such cases?
Tours faithfully,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
Summerhill School
Leiston, Suffolk
28.1.31
Dear Russell:
No, there is no point in replying to the people. Very likely the
chief aim in govt offices is to save the face of the officials. If my
man wants to stay on later I may wangle it by getting him to
invest some cash in the school and teach on AS AN EMPLOYER of
labour. Anyway you accomplished a lot as it is. Many thanks. I
think I'll vote Tory next time!
Today I have a letter from the widow of Norman MacMunn.
She seems to be penniless and asks me for a job as matron. I
can't give her one and don't suppose you can either. I have ad-
vised her to apply to our millionaire friends in Dartington Hall.
I am always sending on the needy to them . . . hating them all
the time for their affluence. When Elmhirst needs a new wing
he writes out a cheque to Heals . . . Heals! And here am I
absolutely gravelled to raise cash for a pottery shed. Pioneering
is a wash out, man. I am getting weary of cleaning up the mess
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
that parents make. At present I have a lad of six who shits his
pants six times daily ... his dear mamma "cured" him by
making him eat the shit. I get no gratitude at all ... when
after years of labour I cure this lad the mother will then send
him to a "nice" school. It ain't good enough . . . official in-
difference or potential enmity, parental jealousy ... the only
joy is in the kids themselves. One day I'll chuck it all and start a
nice hotel round about Salzburg.
You'll gather that I am rather fed this morning. I'd like to
meet you again and have a yarn. Today my Stimmung is partly
due to news of another bad debt . . . 150 this last year all
told. All parents whose problems I bettered.
Yours,
A. S. NEILL
I wonder what Margaret Bondfield's views would be on my
views on Onanie!
31st Jan. 31
DearNeill:
I am sorry you are feeling so fed up. It is a normal mood with
me so far as the school is concerned. Parents owe me altogether
about 500 which I shall certainly never see. I have my doubts
as to whether you would find hotel keeping much better. You
would find penniless pregnant unmarried women left on your
hands, and would undertake the care of them and their children
for the rest of their natural lives. You might find this scarcely
more lucrative than a modern school. Nobody can make a liv-
ing, except by dishonesty or cruelty, at no matter what trade.
It is all very sad about Elmhirst. However, I always think
that a man who marries money has to work for his living. I have
no room for a Matron at the moment, having at last obtained
one who is completely satisfactory.
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Second Marriage
I have sometimes attempted in a mild way to get a little finan-
cial support from people who think they believe in modern edu-
cation, but I have found the thing that stood most in my way
was the fact which leaked out, that I do not absolutely insist
upon strict sexual virtue on the part of the staff. I found that
even people who think themselves quite advanced believe that
only the sexually starved can exert a wholesome moral influ-
ence.
Your story about the boy who shits in his pants is horrible. I
have not had any cases as bad as that to deal with.
I should very much like to see you again. Perhaps we could
meet in London at some time or other. . . .
Yours,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
From Mrs. Bernard Shaw Ayot St Lawrence
Welwyn, Herts.
28 Oct. 1928
Dear Bertrand Russell:
I was grateful and honoured by your splendidness in sending
me your MS of your lecture and saying I may keep it. It's won-
derful of you. I have read it once, and shall keep it as you permit
until I have time for another good, quiet go at it.
You know you have a humble, but convinced admirer in me. I
have a very strong mystical turn in me, which does not appear
in public, and I find your stuff the best corrective and steadier I
ever came across!
My best remembrances to you both. I hope the school is
flourishing.
Yours gratefully,
C. F. SHAW
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
To C P. Sanger Telegraph House
Halting, Petersfield
23 Dec. 1929
My dear Charlie:
I am very sorry indeed to hear that you are so ill. I do hope
you will soon be better. Whenever the Doctors will let me I will
come and see you. It is a year today since Kate's operation,
when you were so kind I remember how Kate loved your
visits. Dear Charlie, I don't think I have ever expressed the deep
affection I have for you, but I suppose you have known of it.
I got home three days ago and found everything here satis-
factory. The children are flourishing, and it is delicious to be at
home. One feels very far off in California and such places. I
went to Salt Lake City and the Mormons tried to convert me,
but when I found they forbade tea and tobacco I thought it was
no religion for me.
My warmest good wishes for a speedy recovery,
Yours very affectionately,
BERTRAND RUSSELL
From Lord Rutherford
Newnham Cottage
Queen's Road
Cambridge
March 9, 1931
Dear Bertrand Russell:
I have just been reading with much interest and profit your
book The Conquest of Happiness & I would like to thank you
for a most stimulating and I think valuable analysis of the fac-
tors concerned. The chief point where I could not altogether
agree was in your treatment of the factors of envy & jealousy.
Even in the simple and I agree with you fundamentally
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Second Marriage
happy life of the scientific man, one has naturally sometimes
encountered examples of this failing but either I have been un-
usually fortunate or it may be too obtuse to notice it in the great
majority of my friends. I have known a number of men leading
simple lives whether on the land or in the laboratory who
seemed to me singularly free from this failing. I quite agree
with you that it is most obtrusive in those who are unduly class-
conscious. These remarks are not in criticism but a mere per-
sonal statement of my own observations in these directions.
I was very sorry to hear of the sudden death of your brother
whom I knew only slightly, and I sympathize with you in your
loss. I hope, however, you will be interested enough to take
some part in debates in the House of Lords in the future.
Yours sincerely,
RUTHERFORD
[281]
V
Later Years of Telegraph
House
WHEN I left Dora, she continued the school until after the
beginning of the Second War, though after 1934 it was
no longer at Telegraph House. John and Kate were made wards
in Chancery and were sent to Dartington school where they
were very happy.
I spent a summer at Hendaye and for part of another summer
took the Gerald Brenans' house near Malaga. I had not known
either of the Brenans before this and I found them interesting
and delightful. Gamel Brenan surprised me by turning out to be
a scholar of great erudition and wide interests, full of all sorts of
scraps of out-of-the-way knowledge and a poet of haunting and
learned rhythms. We have kept up our friendship and she visits
us sometimes a lovely autumnal person.
I spent the summer of 1932 at Carn Voel, which I later gave
to Dora. While there, I wrote Education and the Social Order.
After this, having no longer the financial burden of the school, I
gave up writing potboilers. And having failed as a parent, I
found that my ambition to write books that might be important
revived.
During my lecture tour in America in 1931, 1 had contracted
with W. W. Norton, the publisher, to write the book which was
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
published in 1934 under the title Freedom and Organization,
1814-1914. 1 worked at this book in collaboration with Patricia
Spence, commonly known as Peter Spence, first at a flat in Em-
peror's Gate (where John and Kate were disappointed to find
neither an Emperor nor a gate) , and then at Deudraeth Castle
in North Wales, which was at that time an annex of Portmei-
rion Hotel. I very much enjoyed this work, and I found the life
at Portmeirion pleasant. The hotel was owned by my friends
Clough Williams-Ellis, the architect, and his wife, Amabel, the
writer, whose company was delightful.
When the writing of Freedom and Organization was fin-
ished, I decided to return to Telegraph House and tell Dora she
must live elsewhere. My reasons were financial. I was under a
legal obligation to pay a rent of 400 a year for Telegraph
House, the proceeds being due to my brother's second wife as
alimony. I was also obliged to pay alimony to Dora, as well as
all the expenses of John and Kate. Meanwhile my income had
diminished catastrophically. This was due partly to the depres-
sion, which caused people to buy much fewer books, partly to
the fact that I was no longer writing popular books, and partly
to my having refused to stay with Hearst in 1931 at his castle in
California. My weekly articles in the Hearst newspapers had
brought me 1000 a year, but after my refusal the pay was
halved, and very soon I was told the articles were no longer re-
quired. Telegraph House was large, and was only approachable
by two private drives, each about a mile long. I wished to sell it,
but could not put it on the market while the school was there.
The only hope was to live there, and try to make it attractive to
possible purchasers. "
After settling again at Telegraph House, without the school,
I went for a holiday to the Canary Islands. On returning, I
found myself, though sane, quite devoid of creative impulse,
and at a loss to know what work to do. For about two months,
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Later Years of Telegraph House
purely to afford myself distraction, I worked on the problem of
the twenty-seven straight lines on a cubic surface. But this
would never do, as it was totally useless and I was living on
capital saved during the successful years that ended in 1932. I
decided to write a book on the daily increasing menace of war. I
called this book Which Way to Peace? and maintained in it the
pacifist position that I had taken up during the First War. I did,
it is true, make an exception: I held that, if ever a world govern-
ment were established, it would be desirable to support it by
force against rebels. But as regards the war to be feared in the
immediate future, I urged conscientious objection.
This attitude, however, had become unconsciously insincere.
I had been able to view with reluctant acquiescence the possibil-
ity of the supremacy of the Kaiser's Germany; I thought that,
although this would be an evil, it would not be so great an evil
as a world war and its aftermath. But Hitler's Germany was a
different matter. I found the Nazis utterly revolting cruel,
bigoted, and stupid. Morally and intellectually they were alike
odious to me. Although I clung to my pacifist convictions, I did
so with increasing difficulty. When, in 1940, England was
threatened with invasion, I realized that, throughout the First
War, I had never seriously envisaged the possibility of utter
defeat. I found this possibility unbearable, and at last con-
sciously and definitely decided that I must support what was
necessary for victory in the Second War, however difficult vic-
tory might be to achieve, and however painful in its conse-
quences.
This was the last stage in the slow abandonment of many of
the beliefs that had come to me in the moment of "conversion"
in 1901. 1 had never been a complete adherent of the doctrine of
non-resistance; I had always recognized the necessity of the po-
lice and the criminal law, and even during the First War I had
maintained publicly that some wars are justifiable. But I had
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
allowed a larger sphere to the method of non-resistance or,
rather, non-violent resistance than later experience seemed to
warrant. It certainly has an important sphere; as against the
British in India, Gandhi led it to triumph. But it depends upon
the existence of certain virtues in those against whom it is em-
ployed. When Indians lay down on railways, and challenged
the authorities to crush them under trains, the British found
such cruelty intolerable. But the Nazis had no scruples in analo-
gous situations. The doctrine which Tolstoy preached with
great persuasive force, that the holders of power could be mor-
ally regenerated if met by non-resistance, was obviously untrue
in Germany after 1933. Clearly Tolstoy was right only when
the holders of power were not ruthless beyond a point, and
clearly the Nazis went beyond this point.
But private experience had almost as much to do with chang-
ing my beliefs as had the state of the world. In the school, I
found a very definite and forceful exercise of authority neces-
sary if the weak were not to be oppressed. Such instances as the
hatpin in the soup could not be left to the slow operation of a
good environment, since the need for action was immediate and
imperative. In my second marriage, I had tried to preserve that
respect for my wife's liberty which I thought that my creed en-
joined. I found, however, that my capacity for forgiveness and
what may be called Christian love was not equal to the demands
that I was making on it, and that persistence in a hopeless en-
deavour would do much harm to me, while not achieving the
intended good to others. Anybody else could have told me this
in advance, but I was blinded by theory.
I do not wish to exaggerate. The gradual change in my
views, from 1932 to 1940, was not a revolution; it was only a
quantitative change and a shift of emphasis. I had never held
the non-resistance creed absolutely, and I did not now reject it
absolutely. But the practical difference, between opposing the
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Later Tears of Telegraph House
First War and supporting the Second, was so great as to mask
the considerable degree of theoretical consistency that in fact
existed.
Although my reason was wholly convinced, my emotions fol-
lowed with reluctance. My whole nature had been involved in
my opposition to the First War, whereas it was a divided self
that favoured the Second. I have never since 1940 recovered the
same degree of unity between opinion and emotion as I had pos-
sessed from 1914 to 1918. I think that, in permitting myself
that unity, I had allowed myself more of a creed than scientific
intelligence can justify. To follow scientific intelligence wher-
ever it may lead me had always seemed to me the most impera-
tive of moral precepts for me, and I have followed this precept
even when it has involved a loss of what I myself had taken for
deep spiritual insight.
About a year and a half was spent by Peter Spence, with
whom for some time I had been in love, and me on The Am-
ber ley Papers, a record of the brief life of my parents. There
was something of the ivory tower in this work. My parents had
not been faced with our modern problems; their radicalism was
confident, and throughout their lives the world was moving in
directions that to them seemed good. And although they op-
posed aristocratic privilege, it survived intact, and they, how-
ever involuntarily, profited by it. They lived in a comfortable,
spacious, hopeful world, yet in spite of this I could wholly ap-
prove of them. This was restful, and in raising a monument to
them my feelings of filial piety were assuaged. But I could not
pretend that the work was really important. I had had a period
of uncreative barrenness, but it had ended, and it was time to
turn to something less remote.
My next piece of work was Power: A New Social Analysis.
In this book I maintained that a sphere for freedom is still de-
sirable even in a socialist state, but this sphere has to be defined
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The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
afresh and not in liberal terms. This doctrine I still hold. The
thesis of this book seems to me important, and I hoped that it
would attract more attention than it has done. It was intended as
a refutation both of Marx and of the classical economists, not on
a point of detail, but on the fundamental assumptions that they
shared. I argued that power, rather than wealth, should be the
basic concept in social theory, and that social justice should
consist in equalization of power to the greatest practicable de-
gree. It followed that State ownership of land and capital was
no advance unless the State was democratic, and even then only
if methods were devised for curbing the power of officials. A
part of my thesis was taken up and popularized in Burnham's
Managerial Revolution, but otherwise the book fell rather flat. I
still hold, however, that what it has to say is of very great im-
portance if the evils of totalitarianism are to be avoided, particu-
larly under a Socialist regime.
In 1936, 1 married Peter Spence and m
