the autobiography of bertrand russell 372upon a superabundant vitality. I found Christmas at sea a pleasant amuse-
ment, and enjoyed the e?orts of the ship’s o?cers to make the occasion as
festive as possible. The ship rolled prodigiously, 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 a?ection, 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 misfortune. I am thinking of a more metaphysical fear. I am think-
ing 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.
During the thirty-?ve 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 possible as a moral e?ort, but is no
longer pleasant as an adventure. I want the companionship of my children,
the warmth of the family ?re-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 contrary, their very
ordinariness makes them the more e?ective in mitigating the sense of
sombre solitude.
And so Christmas at sea, which was once a pleasant adventure, has become
painful. It seems to symbolise 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 circumstances, inevitable, and should not be
shirked.
But there is something also to be said on the other side. Domestic 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 undiminished 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 unhappi-
ness, I found impersonal reasons for gloom. I had been very full of personal
misery in the early years of the century, but at that time I had a more or less
second marriage 373Platonic 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, particularly 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 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 re?ected, or
shadowed in monstrous opacity upon the fog. What matter? Tomorrow’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 prom-
ises 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 unru?ed and magni?cent. But now all this has
shrunk to be no more than my own re?ection 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 ?ctions 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, I dictated to my then secretary, Peg Adams, who
had formerly been secretary to a Rajah and Ranee, a short autobiography,
which has formed the basis of the present book down to 1921. I ended it
with an epilogue, in which, as will be seen, I did not admit private unhappi-
ness, but only political and metaphysical disillusionment. I insert it here, not
the autobiography of bertrand russell 374because it expressed what I now feel, but because it shows the great di?culty
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 instinctive 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 di?cult to
believe that the hopes which I formerly cherished will be realised in any
measurable future. I have endeavoured, by concerning myself with the educa-
tion of my children and with making money for their bene?t, 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 ?rst these two remained 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 ?nd that much unclear thought exists as an excuse
for cruelty, and that much cruelty is prompted by superstitious 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, 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 ?eld is in England.
In the world at large, if civilisation survives, I foresee the domination
of either America or Russia, and in either case of a system where a tight
organisation 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 ?nding somewhere some certain
knowledge. The whole of this e?ort, in spite of three big volumes, ended
second marriage 375inwardly in doubt and bewilderment. As regards metaphysics, when, under
the in?uence of Moore, I ?rst threw o? the belief in German idealism,
I experienced the delight of believing that the sensible world is real. Bit by
bit, chie?y under the in?uence 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, devoted 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 philosophers of the time
of Justinian, whom Gibbon describes as seeking 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 fortu-
nate than I am in one respect, for they had an intellectual faith which
remained ?rm. They entertained no doubt as to the greatness of Plato. For my
part, I ?nd 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
e?orts of present-day philosophers and men of science have anything
approaching the validity that attaches to their destructive criticism.
My activities continue from force of habit, and in the company of others
I forget the despair which underlies my daily pursuits and pleasure. 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 ?nd myself involved in a vast mist of solitude both emotional and meta-
physical, from which I can ?nd no issue.
[June 11, 1931.]
LETTERS
From Joseph Conrad Oswalds
Bishopsbourne, Kent
Oct. 23rd. 1922
My Dear Russell
When your book1
arrived we were away for a few days. Perhaps les conven-
ances demanded that I should have acknowledged the receipt at once. But
I preferred to read it before I wrote. Unluckily a very unpleasant a?air 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 ?urry was over, and
I could give it two clear days.
the autobiography of bertrand russell 376I 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 vanish-
ing into the depths of Siam. I also received many kindnesses at the hands of
various Chinese. This with the addition of an evening’s conversation with the
secretary of His Excellency Tseng on the verandah of an hotel and a perfunc-
tory study of a poem, The Heathen Chinee, is all I know about Chinese. But after
reading your extremely 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 de?nite meaning. I have never been able to ?nd 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 plausible. 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 you 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 ?ying – a great ‘uplift’, no doubt, but no great
change. He doesn’t ?y like an eagle; he ?ies like a beetle. And you must have
noticed how ugly, ridiculous and fatuous is the ?ight 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
?awless. I have no di?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 corruption. And on this
last point I would o?er for your re?ection 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 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 recom-
mending honesty failed to a?ect the agents of the Government. But Chinese,
essentially, are creatures of Edicts and in every other sphere their character-
istic is, I should say, scrupulous honesty.
There is another suggestion of yours which terri?es me, and arouses my
second marriage 377compassion 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 condemn 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 di?dence 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 sel?essness 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 domin-
ation of such a council, and the unavoidable demoralisation of the instru-
ments 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 as little substan-
tial as if composed of angels of whom ten thousand 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, I 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 yesterday) a leader on
your Problem of China which I hope will comfort 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 in?rmities there was never any need for you to ?y 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 understanding’ 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 news-
paper 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
the autobiography of bertrand russell 37820 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 Compère that I do want to see the child whose advent has brought
about this intimate relation between us. But I shrink from staying the 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 con?ding it to you as a sad truth. However – this
cannot last; and before long I’ll make a special trip to see you all on an agreed
day. Meantime my love to him – special and exclusive. Please give my duty
to your wife as politeness dictates and – as my true feelings demand –
remember me most a?ectionately to ma très honorée Commère. And pray go on
cultivating forgiveness towards this insigni?cant and unworthy person who
dares to subscribe himself
Always yours
Joseph Conrad
From Wm. F. Philpott 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 remem-
ber 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.
I am afraid we shall never get anyone like Lord Derby (The Rupert of
Debate) and Dizzy to lead us again.
Yours 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,
second marriage 379I 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
published on October 26.
The Government which has been in power ever since the Armistice has
done nothing during the past four years to restore normal life to Europe. Our
trade su?ers 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 su?ered during the past two years. If we are to regain
any measure of prosperity, the ?rst necessity is a wise and ?rm 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 su?ered. The new Government, according to the
statement of its own supporters, does not di?er from the old one on any
point of policy. The country had become aware of the incompetence of the
Coalition Government, and the major part of its supporters hope to avert the
wrath of the electors by pretending to be quite a di?erent ?rm. 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 nationalisation of
mines and railways, with a great measure of control by the workers in those
industries. I hope to see similar measures 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’ pro?ts 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 Continent. In the meantime, it
is unjust that those who are out of work through no fault of their own should
the autobiography of bertrand russell 380su?er destitution; for the present, therefore, I am in favour of the continuation
of unemployed bene?t.
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 country and the
world are faced with terrible dangers. The Labour 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 consti-
tutional methods can a better state of a?airs 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
From G. B. Shaw
10 Adelphi Terrace, W.C.2
[1922]
Dear Russell
I should say yes with pleasure if the matter were in my hands; but, as you
may imagine, I have so many calls that I must leave it to the Labor Party, acting
through the Fabian Society 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 Society,
25 Tothill Street, Westminster, S.W.1. 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 successful, 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.
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 rebuilt it fashionably and drove all the Radicals
across the bridges to Battersea. It is exasperating that a reasonably winnable
seat has not been found for you. I would not spend a farthing on it myself,
second marriage 381even if I could ?nance the 400 or so Labor candidates who would like to
touch me for at least a ?ver 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 à 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.
Yours very sincerely
Jean Nicod
53 rue Gazan
Paris XIVe
28th September 1919
Dear Mr Russell
I could not see Romain Rolland, 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
Thérèse is staying here. There is now a prospect of going to Brazil in eighteen
months. Of course I am ceasing to believe in any of these things; but we are
learning a great deal of geography.
I have de?nitely arranged to write a thesis on the external world. Part of it
will be ready at Christmas, as I am being assured that I shall ?nd 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
