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my wife, thinking that I was defending myself against a murderous assault.The same kind of fear caused me, for many years, to avoid all deep emotion,and live, as nearly as I could, a life of intellect tempered by ?ippancy. Happymarriage gradually gave me mental stability, and when, at a later date, Iexperienced new emotional storms, I found that I was able to remain sane.This banished the conscious fear of insanity, but the unconscious fear haspersisted.Whatever indecision I had felt as to what we ought to do was ended whenAlys and I found another doctor, who assured me breezily that he had usedcontraceptives himself for many years, that no bad e?ects whatever were tobe feared, and that we should be fools not to marry. So we went ahead, inspite of the shocked feelings of two generations. As a matter of fact, after wehad been married two years we came to the conclusion that the medicalauthorities whom we had consulted had been talking nonsense, as indeedthey obviously were, and we decided to have children if possible. But Alysproved to be barren, so the fuss had been all about nothing.At the conclusion of this fracas I went to live at Friday’s Hill with Alys’speople, and there I settled down to work at a Fellowship dissertation, takingnon-Euclidean Geometry as my subject. My people wrote almost daily lettersto me about ‘the life you are leading’, but it was clear to me that they woulddrive me into insanity if I let them, and that I was getting mental health fromAlys. We grew increasingly intimate.My people, however, were not at the end of their attempts. In August theyinduced Lord Du?erin, who was then our Ambassador in Paris, to o?er methe post of honorary attaché. I had no wish to take it, but my grandmotherthe autobiography of bertrand russell 74said that she was not much longer for this world, and that I owed it to her tosee whether separation would lessen my infatuation. I did not wish to feelremorse whenever she came to die, so I agreed to go to Paris for a minimumof three months, on the understanding that if that produced no e?ect uponmy feelings, my people would no longer actively oppose my marriage. Mycareer in diplomacy, however, was brief and inglorious. I loathed the work,and the people, and the atmosphere of cynicism, and the separation fromAlys. My brother came over to visit me, and although I did not know it at thetime, he had been asked to come by my people, in order to form a judgementon the situation. He came down strongly on my side, and when the threemonths were up, which was on November 17th, I shook the dust of Paris o?my feet, and returned to Alys. I had, however, ?rst to make my peace withher, as she had grown jealous of her sister, of whom I saw a good deal duringthe latter part of my time in Paris. It must be said that making my peace onlytook about ten minutes.The only thing of any permanent value that I derived from my time in Pariswas the friendship of Jonathan Sturges, a man for whom I had a very greata?ection. Many years after his death, I went to see Henry James’s house atRye, which was kept at that time as a sort of museum. There I suddenly cameupon Sturges’s portrait hanging on the wall. It gave me so great a shock that Iremember nothing else whatever about the place. He was a cripple, intenselysensitive, very literary, and belonging to what one must call the Americanaristocracy (he was a nephew of J. P. Morgan). He was a very witty man. Itook him once into the Fellows’ Garden at Trinity, and he said: ‘Oh yes! Thisis where George Eliot told F. W. H. Myers that there is no God, and yet wemust be good; and Myers decided that there is a God, and yet we need notbe good.’ I saw a great deal of him during my time in Paris, which laidthe foundations of a friendship that ended only with his death.LETTERS15 rue du SommerardParisOct. 25 ’91My dear BertieI have been meaning to write to you before, to tell you how much Ienjoyed my visit to Cambridge, but I have been through such a season of woein settling myself here! It is all due to that bothersome new order, for it is veryhard to get rooms within the ?xed margin, and I am much too proud toconfess an excess so soon. So I have at last settled myself in the Latin Quarter,up seven ?ights of stairs, and I ?nd that the spiritual pride that ?lls my breastmore than amply compensates for all the bother. It is nice to feel better thanengagement 75one’s neighbours! I met a friend yesterday who is living in cushioned easeacross the river, and I felt so very superior, I am rather afraid that when I writeto my adviser, I shall receive a hair shirt by return of post. Have you triedto observe the discipline? I do not speak evil, for I have no one to speak it to,though I think it of my landlady. And the other day, I was so reduced by thestate of my things when I moved here that I could do nothing but eat a bunand read Tid-bits.I have begun to write a novel, but be assured, it is not religious, and isnot to be rejected by the publishers for a year or two yet.My journey here after I left you was most amusing. On the steamer we satin rows and glared at each other, after the pleasant English manner. There wasa young married couple who stood out as a warning and a lesson to youth.He was a puzzled looking, beardless young man, and she was a limp ?gureof a woman, and there was a baby. The husband poured his wife into anarmchair, and then walked up and down with the baby. Then he stood for along while, looking at the watery horizon as if he were asking some questionof it. But the dismal unwellness of his wife and baby soon put an end to hismeditations. What a warning to youth! And I might have been in his place!I hope you went to the debate to prove that the upper classes areuneducated – those broad generalisations are so stimulating – there is somuch that one can say.I hope you mean to join our order, and if you do, make me your adviser. Iwill set you nice penances, and then I shall be sure to hear from you – forthere must be some rules that you will break – some rift in your integrity.Give my regards to Sheldon Amos if you see him.Yours ever,Logan Pearsall Smith15 Rue du SommerardParisNov. 1891Dear BertieI enclose the rules – the general outlines – we must have a meeting of theOrder before long to settle them de?nitely. As for rule one, you had better ?xa sum, and then keep to that. By the account you enclosed to me, you appearto be living on eggs and groceries – I should advise you to dine occasionally.Then at College one ought to entertain more or less – and that ought not tocount as board and lodging. As to rule 4 – I should say at College it is perhapsbetter not to do too much at social work.What you say about changing one’s self denial is only too true andterrible – it went to my heart – one does form a habit, and then it is nobother. I will write to the Arch Prig about it.the autobiography of bertrand russell 76Of course you must consider yourself a member, and you must confess tome, and I will write you back some excellent ghostly advice. And you mustget other members. We shall expect to enroll half of Trinity.I am living as quietly as an oyster, and I ?nd it pleasant to untangle oneselffor a while from all social ties, and look round a bit. And there is so much tolook at here!Yours ever,Logan Pearsall SmithHere are the rules of The Order of Prigs as Logan Pearsall Smith drew them up.Maxims: Don’t let anyone know you are a prig.1. Deny yourself in inconspicuous ways and don’t speak of youreconomies.2. Avoid all vain and unkind criticism of others.43. Always keep your company manners on – keep your coat brushed andyour shoe-laces tied.4. Avoid the company of the rich and the tables of the luxurious – all thosewho do not regard their property as a trust.5. Don’t be a Philistine! Don’t let any opportunities of hearing good music,seeing good pictures or acting escape you.6. Always let others pro?t as much as possible by your skill in these things.7. Do what you can to spread the order.Speci?c Rules:1. Don’t let your board and lodging exceed two pounds a week.2. Keep a strict account of monies spent on clothes and pleasure.3. If your income provides more than the necessities of Life, give at least atenth of it in Charity.4. Devote an evening a week, or an equivalent amount of time, to socialwork with the labouring Classes, or visiting the sick.5. Set apart a certain time every day for examination of conscience.6. Abstain entirely from all intoxicating liquors, except for the purposesof health.7. Practise some slight self-denial every day, for instance – Getting upwhen called. No cake at tea, No butter at breakfast, No co?ee afterdinner.8. Observe strictly the rules of diet and exercise prescribed by one’sdoctor, or approved by one’s better reason.9. Read some standard poetry or spiritual book every day, for at least halfan hour.engagement 7710. Devote ? hour every other day, or 1? hours weekly, to the keepingfresh of learning already acquired – going over one’s scienti?c orclassical work.11. Keep all your appointments punctually, and don’t make any engage-ments or promises you are not likely to ful?l.The Arch Prig5or the associate Prig is empowered to give temporaryor permanent release from any of these rules, if he deem it expedient.All neglect of the rules and maxims shall be avowed to the Arch Prig, orone’s associate, who shall set a penance, if he think it expedient.Suggested penances:Pay a duty call.Write a duty letter.Learn some poetry or prose.Translate English into another language.Tidy up your room.Extend your hospitality to a bore.(Hair shirts can be had of the Arch Prig on application.)15 Rue du SommerardParisDec. 3 1891My dear BertieI think you make an excellent Prig, and you have lapses enough to make itinteresting. I was shocked however by the price, 12/6 you paid for a stick.There seems an odour of sin about that. 2/6 I should think ought to be thelimit, and if the morality of Cambridge is not much above that of Oxford, Ishould think that your 12/6 stick would not keep in your possession long.I know nothing about tobacco and meerschaums, so I cannot follow youinto these regions of luxury. I must ask some one who smokes pipes about it.Well, I think you’d better impose one of the penances out of the list onyourself and then if you continue in sin I shall become more severe.I ?nd Priggishness, like all forms of excellence, much more di?cult than Ihad imagined – by-the-by – let me tell you that if one simply thinks one hasread one’s half hour, one has probably read only a quarter of an hour. Humannature, at least my nature, is invariably optimistic in regard to itself.No, the rule as to 1? hrs. a week need not apply to you – but you ought togo to concerts, unless you are too busy. As to charities – there are an in?nitenumber that are good – but why not save what money you have for suchpurposes for the Prig fund? And then when we have a meeting we can decidewhat to do with it. It will be most interesting when we all meet, to comparethe autobiography of bertrand russell 78experiences. I am afraid it may lead however to re?exions of a pessimistictinge.My adviser the Arch Prig, has failed me – if it were not speaking evil Ishould insinuate the suspicion that he had got into di?culties with the ruleshimself, which would be very terrible.I live alone here with the greatest contentment. One inherits, when onecomes here, such a wealth of tradition and civilisation! The achievements ofthree or four centuries of intelligence and taste – that is what one has at Paris.I was bewildered at ?rst, and shivered on the brink, and was homesick forEngland, but now I have come to love Paris perfectly.Do write again when you have collected more sins, and tell me whetherthe fear of penance acts on you in the cause of virtue. It does on a cowardlynature like mine.Yours ever,Logan Pearsall Smith15 Rue du SommerardParisJan. 11th 1892My dear BertieI have just read through your letter again to see if I could not ?nd someexcuse for imposing a penance on you, for having hurt my foot thisafternoon, I feel in a ?erce mood. But I am not one of those who see sin in afrock coat – if it be well ?tting. But wait a bit – are you sure you told me whatyou had read in order, as you say, to confound my scepticism – was there nota slight infringement of maxim 1 lurking in your mind? If upon severeself-examination you ?nd there was, I think you had better ?nish learningthe ‘Ode to the West Wind’ which you partly knew last summer.So far I have written in my o?cial capacity as your adviser. But as yourfriend I was shocked and startled by your calm statement that you indulge in‘all the vices not prohibited by the rules’. These I need not point out arenumerous, extending from Baccarat to biting one’s ?nger nails – I hesitate tobelieve that you have abandoned yourself to them all. I think you must havemeant that you read a great deal of Browning.I am living in great quiet and contentment. A certain portion of the day Idevote to enriching the English language with tales and moralities, the rest ofthe time I contemplate the mind of man as expressed in art and literature. Iam thirsting of course for that moment – and without doubt the momentwill come – when I shall hear my name sounded by all Fame’s tongues andtrumpets, and see it misspelled in all the newspapers. But I content myselfin the meantime, by posing as a poet in the drawing rooms of credulousAmerican ladies.engagement 79As a novelist or ‘?ctionist’ to use the Star expression, I make it my aim toshow up in my tales, in which truth is artistically mingled with morality,‘Cupid and all his wanton snares’. I also wish to illustrate some of theincidents of the eternal war between the sexes. What will the whitedsepulchres of America say? Je m’en ?che.Well, it is pleasant thus to expatiate upon my own precious identity.I suppose you are ‘on the threshold’ – as one says, when one wishes towrite high style – the threshold of another term – and so resumingmy character of moral adviser I will salt this letter with some sententiousphrase, if I can ?nd one that is both true and fresh – but I cannot thinkof any – the truth is always so banal – that is why the paradox has such apull over it.Yours ever,Logan Pearsall Smith14 Rue de la GrandeChaumière, ParisMarch 19 ’92Dear BertieI think members ought to be admitted to the Order, who are moderatedrinkers, if they are satisfactory in other ways. Good people are so rare. But onall these points we must debate when we meet. We are going to Haslemeresometime in Easter Week, I think, and I hope you will keep a few days free topay us a visit then. But I will write to you again when I get to England. As yousee by my address, I have moved again, and I am at last settled in a littleapartment furnished by myself. I am in Bohemia, a most charming country,inhabited entirely by French Watchmen and American and English artstudents, young men and women, who live in simple elegance anddeshabille. My ￡2.0.0 a week seems almost gross extravagance here, and one’seyes are never wounded by the sight of clean linen and new coats. Reallyyou can’t imagine how charming it is here – everybody young, poor andintelligent and hard at work.When I came here ?rst, I knew some ‘society’ people on the other side ofthe river, and used to go and take tea and talk platitudes with them, but nowtheir lives seem so empty, their minds so waste and void of sense, that Icannot approach them without a headache of boredom. How dull andunintelligent people can make themselves if they but try.Yours ever,L. P. Smiththe autobiography of bertrand russell 80Friday’s HillHaslemereNov. 24 ’92?a va bien à Cambridge, Bertie? I wish I could look in on you – only youwould be startled at my aspect, as I have shaved my head till it is as bald as anegg, and dressed myself in rags, and retired to the solitude of Fernhurst,where I am living alone, in the Costelloe Cottage.6Stevens wrote to me,asking me to send something to the Cambridge Observer7and, prompted by Satan(as I believe) I promised I would. So I hurried up and wrote an article onHenry James, and when I had posted it last night, it suddenly came over mehow stupid and bad it was. Well, I hope the good man won’t print it.There are good things in the Observer he sent me. I was quite surprised – itcertainly should be encouraged. Only I don’t go with it in its enthusiasm forimpurity – its jeers at what Milton calls ‘The sage and serious doctrine ofvirginity’. It is dangerous for Englishmen to try to be French, they never catchthe note – the accent. A Frenchman if he errs, does it ‘dans un momentd’oubli’, as they say – out of absentmindedness, as it were – while theEnglishman is much too serious and conscious. No, a civilisation must inthe main develop on the lines and in the ways of feeling already laid down forit by those who founded and fostered it. I was struck with this at the ‘NewEnglish Art Club’ I went up to see. There are some nice things, but in the massit bore the same relation to real art – French art – as A Church Congress doesto real social movements.So do show Sickert and his friends that a gospel of impurity, preached withan Exeter Hall zeal and denunciation, will do much to thicken the sombrefogs in which we live already.I shall stay in England for a while longer – when does your vac. beginand where do you go?Yrs.L. P. Smith14 rue de la GrandeChaumière, ParisFeb. 14th ’93My dear BertieI was sorry that Musgrave and I could not get to Richmond, but I was onlya short time in London. I shall hope to go at Easter, if I am back. Pariswelcomed me as all her own, when I got here and I have been living in thecharm of this delightful and terrible place. For it is pretty terrible in manyways, at least the part of Paris I live in. Perhaps it is the wickedness of Parisitself, perhaps the fact that people live in this quarter without conventions ordisguises or perhaps – which I am inclined to believe – the life of artists isengagement 81almost always tragical – or not wanting at least in elements of Tragedy – thatgives me the sense of the wretchedness and the ?neness of life here. Just thinkthis very morning I discovered that a girl here I know had gone mad. Shecame in to see me, begged me to help her write a book to attack Frenchimmorality and now I am waiting to see the doctor I sent for, to see if wemust shut her up.As for ‘morality’, well – one ?nds plenty of the other thing, both inwomen and men. I met the other day one of the Young Davies’ at Studd’sstudio – and my heart sank a little at the sight of another nice youngEnglishman come to live in Paris. But he I suppose can take care of himself.But I must not abuse Paris too much, for after all this, and perhaps onaccount of it, Paris is beyond measure interesting. There are big stakes to bewon or lost and everybody is playing for them.Yours,L. Pearsall Smith44 Grosvenor RoadWestminsterOct. 29 ’93My dear BertieYou I suppose are watching the yellowing of the year at Cambridge, andindulging in the sentiments proper to the season. I am still kept unwill-ingly in London, and see no present prospect of getting away. I have triedto like London, for its grimy charms have never yet been adequatelycommended; – and charms it certainly has – but I have decided that if ever I‘do’ London hatred and not love must be my inspiration, and for literarypurposes hatred is an excellent theme. All French realism is rooted inhatred of life as it is, and according to Harold Joachim’s rude but trueremark, such pessimism must be based somehow on optimism. ‘Noshadow without light’, and the bright dream of what London might be,and Paris already, to a small extent is – makes the present London seemignoble and dark. Then I have been going a little into literary society – notthe best literary society, but the London Bohemia of minor novelists, poetsand journalists – and it does not win one to enthusiasm. No; the LondonBohemia is wanting in just that quality which would redeem Bohemia –disinterestedness – it is a sordid, money-seeking Bohemia, conscious of itsown meanness and determined to see nothing but meanness in the worldat large. They sit about restaurant tables, these pale-faced little young men,and try to show that all the world is as mean and sordid as they themselvesare – and indeed they do succeed for the moment in making the universeseem base.How do you like your philosophy work? Don’t turn Hegelian and losethe autobiography of bertrand russell 82yourself in perfumed dreams – the world will never get on unless a fewpeople at least will limit themselves to believing what has been proved, andkeep clear the distinction between what we really know and what we don’t.Yours ever,Logan Pearsall SmithQueen’s HotelBarnsleyNov. 16 1893Dear BertieThanks so much for your generous cheque8– the need here is very great,but thanks to the money coming in, there is enough to keep the people goingin some sort of way. They are splendid people certainly – and it is hard tobelieve they will ever give in. It seems pretty certain to me that the Mastersbrought on the strike very largely for the purpose of smashing the Federation.Of course the Federation is often annoying – and I daresay the owners haverespectable grievances, but their pro?ts are very great and no one seems tothink that they could not a?ord the ‘living wage’. Within the last year a gooddeal of money has been invested in collieries here, and several new pitsstarted, showing that the business is pro?table. Well, it does one good tosee these people, and the way they stick by each other, men and women,notwithstanding their really dreadful privations.Yrs.Logan Pearsall Smith44 Grosvenor RoadWestminster EmbankmentS.W.Nov. 1893Dear BertieYou forgot to endorse this – write your name on the back, and send it toJ. T. Drake, 41 She?eld Road. It will be weeks before many of the Barnsleypeople will be able to get to work, and this money will come in mostusefully. Every 10/- gives a meal to 240 children! I am very glad that I wentto Barnsley, though I went with groans, but it does one good to see such a?ne democracy. I wish you could have seen a meeting of miners I went to; acertain smart young Tory ?? came with some courage, but very little senseto prove to the miners that they were wrong. They treated him withgood-natured contempt and when he told them that their wages were quitesu?cient they replied ‘Try it lad yourself ’ – ‘It wouldn’t pay for your bloodystarched clothes’. ‘Lad, your belly’s fool’ and other playful remarks. ‘Nooredooction’ a woman shouted and everyone cheered. Then a miner spokeengagement 83with a good deal of sense and sarcasm, and the young ?? was in about as sillya position as one could be in – well-fed, well-dressed and rosy. The contrastbetween him and the man to whom he preached contentment was what youcall striking. But he had to smile and look gracious, as only Tories can, andpretend he was enjoying it immensely.Yrs.L. Pearsall Smith44 Grosvenor RoadWestminster Embankment