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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 asfestive as possible. The ship rolled prodigiously, and with each roll all thesteamer trunks slid from side to side of all the state-rooms with a noiselike 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 manafraid, and fear makes him conciliatory, and being conciliatory heendeavours to appear to others what they will think mellow. And with fearcomes the need of a?ection, of some human warmth to keep away the chillof the cold universe. When I speak of fear, I do not mean merely or mainlypersonal fear: the fear of death or decrepitude or penury or any such merelymundane 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 evilsto which life is subject: the treachery of friends, the death of those whom welove, 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 unconsciousattitude to life. To stand alone may still be possible as a moral e?ort, but is nolonger pleasant as an adventure. I want the companionship of my children,the warmth of the family ?re-side, the support of historic continuity and ofmembership of a great nation. These are very ordinary human joys, whichmost middle-aged persons enjoy at Christmas. There is nothing about themto distinguish the philosopher from other men; on the contrary, their veryordinariness makes them the more e?ective in mitigating the sense ofsombre solitude.And so Christmas at sea, which was once a pleasant adventure, has becomepainful. It seems to symbolise the loneliness of the man who chooses to standalone, using his own judgment rather than the judgment of the herd. A moodof melancholy is, in these circumstances, inevitable, and should not beshirked.But there is something also to be said on the other side. Domestic joys, likeall the softer pleasures, may sap the will and destroy courage. The indoorwarmth of the traditional Christmas is good, but so is the South wind, andthe sun rising out of the sea, and the freedom of the watery horizon. Thebeauty of these things is undiminished by human folly and wickedness, andremains 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 personalmisery in the early years of the century, but at that time I had a more or lesssecond marriage 373Platonic philosophy which enabled me to see beauty in the extra-humanuniverse. Mathematics and the stars consoled me when the human worldseemed empty of comfort. But changes in my philosophy have robbed meof such consolations. Solipsism oppressed me, particularly after studyingsuch interpretations of physics as that of Eddington. It seemed that what wehad thought of as laws of nature were only linguistic conventions, and thatphysics was not really concerned with an external world. I do not mean thatI quite believed this, but that it became a haunting nightmare, increasinglyinvading my imagination. One foggy night, sitting in my tower at TelegraphHouse after everyone else was asleep, I expressed this mood in a pessimisticmeditation:MODERN PHYSICSAlone in my tower at midnight, I remember the woods and downs, the seaand sky, that daylight showed. Now, as I look through each of the fourwindows, north, south, east and west, I see only myself dimly re?ected, orshadowed in monstrous opacity upon the fog. What matter? Tomorrow’ssunrise 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 dustyfretful passion of human life seemed to me a little thing, set, like someresolved discord in music, amid the splendour of the stars and the statelyprocession of geological ages. What if the universe was to end in universaldeath? It was none the less unru?ed and magni?cent. But now all this hasshrunk to be no more than my own re?ection in the windows of the soulthrough which I look out upon the night of nothingness. The revolutions ofnebulae, the birth and death of stars, are no more than convenient ?ctions inthe trivial work of linking together my own sensations, and perhaps those ofother men not much better than myself. No dungeon was ever constructed sodark and narrow as that in which the shadow physics of our time imprisonsus, 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, novastness, 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, whohad 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 itwith 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, notthe autobiography of bertrand russell 374because it expressed what I now feel, but because it shows the great di?cultyI experienced in adjusting myself to a changing world and a very soberphilosophy.EPILOGUEMy personal life since I returned from China has been happy and peaceful.I have derived from my children at least as much instinctive satisfaction asI anticipated, and have in the main regulated my life with reference to them.But while my personal life has been satisfying, my impersonal outlook hasbecome increasingly sombre, and I have found it more and more di?cult tobelieve that the hopes which I formerly cherished will be realised in anymeasurable future. I have endeavoured, by concerning myself with the educa-tion of my children and with making money for their bene?t, to shut outfrom my thoughts the impersonal despairs which tend to settle upon me.Ever since puberty I have believed in the value of two things: kindness andclear thinking. At ?rst these two remained more or less distinct; when I felttriumphant I believed most in clear thinking, and in the opposite moodI believed most in kindness. Gradually, the two have come more and moretogether in my feelings. I ?nd that much unclear thought exists as an excusefor cruelty, and that much cruelty is prompted by superstitious beliefs. TheWar made me vividly aware of the cruelty in human nature, but I hoped for areaction when the War was over. Russia made me feel that little was to behoped from revolt against existing governments in the way of an increase ofkindness in the world, except possibly in regard to children. The crueltyto children involved in conventional methods of education is appalling, andI have been amazed at the horror which is felt against those who propose akinder 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 thelast four hundred years is in my blood, and I should have wished to hand onto my son the tradition of public spirit which has in the past been valuable. Inthe world that I foresee there will be no place for this tradition, and he will belucky if he escapes with his life. The feeling of impending doom gives a kindof futility to all activities whose ?eld is in England.In the world at large, if civilisation survives, I foresee the dominationof either America or Russia, and in either case of a system where a tightorganisation subjects the individual to the State so completely that splendidindividuals will be no longer possible.And what of philosophy? The best years of my life were given to thePrinciples of Mathematics, in the hope of ?nding somewhere some certainknowledge. The whole of this e?ort, in spite of three big volumes, endedsecond marriage 375inwardly in doubt and bewilderment. As regards metaphysics, when, underthe 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 bybit, chie?y under the in?uence of physics, this delight has faded, and I havebeen driven to a position not unlike that of Berkeley, without his God and hisAnglican complacency.When I survey my life, it seems to me to be a useless one, devoted toimpossible ideals. I have not found in the post-war world any attainable idealsto replace those which I have come to think unattainable. So far as the thingsI have cared for are concerned, the world seems to me to be entering upon aperiod 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 timeis less like his than like that of the unfortunate Pagan philosophers of the timeof Justinian, whom Gibbon describes as seeking asylum in Persia, but sodisgusted by what they saw there that they returned to Athens, in spite of theChristian bigotry which forbade them to teach. Even they were more fortu-nate than I am in one respect, for they had an intellectual faith whichremained ?rm. They entertained no doubt as to the greatness of Plato. For mypart, I ?nd in the most modern thought a corrosive solvent of the greatsystems of even the recent past, and I do not believe that the constructivee?orts of present-day philosophers and men of science have anythingapproaching the validity that attaches to their destructive criticism.My activities continue from force of habit, and in the company of othersI forget the despair which underlies my daily pursuits and pleasure. But whenI 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.]LETTERSFrom Joseph Conrad OswaldsBishopsbourne, KentOct. 23rd. 1922My Dear RussellWhen your book1arrived we were away for a few days. Perhaps les conven-ances demanded that I should have acknowledged the receipt at once. ButI preferred to read it before I wrote. Unluckily a very unpleasant a?air wassprung on me and absorbed all my thinking energies for a fortnight. I simplydid not attempt to open the book till all the worry and ?urry was over, andI 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 someother people) in the yard of a private house in Chantabun, even (but not somuch) the fellow who stole all my money one night in Bankok, but brushedand 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 ofvarious Chinese. This with the addition of an evening’s conversation with thesecretary 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 afterreading your extremely interesting view of the Chinese Problem I takea gloomy view of the future of their country.He who does not see the truth of your deductions can only be he who doesnot want to see. They strike a chill into one’s soul especially when you deal withthe American element. That would indeed be a dreadful fate for China or anyother country. I feel your book the more because the only ray of hope you allowis the advent of international socialism, the sort of thing to which I cannotattach any sort of de?nite meaning. I have never been able to ?nd in any man’sbook or any man’s talk anything convincing enough to stand up for a momentagainst 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 merereverie it is not of a very high order and wears a strange resemblance to ahungry man’s dream of a gorgeous feast guarded by a lot of beadles in cockedhats. But I know you wouldn’t expect me to put faith in any system. The onlyremedy for Chinamen and for the rest of us is the change of hearts, but lookingat the history of the last 2000 years there is not much reason to expect thatthing, even if man has taken to ?ying – a great ‘uplift’, no doubt, but no greatchange. He doesn’t ?y like an eagle; he ?ies like a beetle. And you must havenoticed how ugly, ridiculous and fatuous is the ?ight of a beetle.Your chapter on Chinese character is the sort of marvellous achievementthat 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 amenityallied to barbarism, in compassion co-existing with complete brutality, andin essential rectitude underlying the most obvious corruption. And on thislast point I would o?er for your re?ection that we ought not to attach toomuch importance to that trait of character – just because it is not a trait ofcharacter! At any rate no more than in other races of mankind. Chinesecorruption is, I suspect, institutional: a mere method of paying salaries. Ofcourse 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 mysecond marriage 377compassion for the Chinese, even more than the prospect of an AmericanisedChina. It is your idea of some sort of selected council, the strongly disciplinedsociety arriving at decisions etc. etc. (p. 244). If a constitution proclaimed inthe light of day, with at least a chance of being understood by the people isnot to be relied on, then what trust could one put in a self-appointed andprobably secret association (which from the nature of things must be abovethe law) to commend or condemn individuals or institutions? As it isunthinkable 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 yourcontrivance which must par la force des choses and by the very manner of itsinception become but an association of mere swelled-heads of the mostdangerous kind. There is not enough honour, virtue and sel?essness in theworld to make any such council other than the greatest danger to every kindof moral, mental and political independence. It would become a centre ofdelation, intrigue and jealousy of the most debased kind. No freedom ofthought, no peace of heart, no genius, no virtue, no individuality trying toraise 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 tohave 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 aneedle. 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 Armystyle) trust that society if Bertrand Russell himself were, after 40 days ofmeditation and fasting, to undertake the selection of the members. Aftersaying this I may just as well resume my wonted calm; for, indeed, I could notthink of any stronger way of expressing my utter dislike and mistrust of suchan expedient for working out the salvation of China.I see in this morning’s Times (this letter was begun yesterday) a leader onyour Problem of China which I hope will comfort and sustain you in the face ofmy savage attack. I meant it to be deadly; but I perceive that on account of myage and in?rmities there was never any need for you to ?y the country or askfor police protection. You will no doubt be glad to hear that my body isdisabled by a racking cough and my enterprising spirit irretrievably tamed byan unaccountable depression. Thus are the impious stricken, and things ofthe order that ‘passeth understanding’ brought home to one! . . . But I willnot 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 ofyour 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 isthe rag that decreed it I wonder? The fact is I came up for just 4 hours andthe 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 notdoubt mon Compère that I do want to see the child whose advent has broughtabout this intimate relation between us. But I shrink from staying the night intown. In fact I am afraid of it. This is no joke. Neither is it a fact that I wouldshout on housetops. I am con?ding it to you as a sad truth. However – thiscannot last; and before long I’ll make a special trip to see you all on an agreedday. Meantime my love to him – special and exclusive. Please give my dutyto your wife as politeness dictates and – as my true feelings demand –remember me most a?ectionately to ma très honorée Commère. And pray go oncultivating forgiveness towards this insigni?cant and unworthy person whodares to subscribe himselfAlways yoursJoseph ConradFrom Wm. F. Philpott Chelsea, S.W.14.11.22Dear SirHerewith 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 seebeyond their nose who vote Labor.According to your Photo it does not look as though it is very long sinceyou left your cradle so I think you would be wise to go home and suck yourtitty. 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 1876/7then you are not old enough to be a Politician.I can remember both those Wars and also the War of -/66 when the Battleof 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 ofDebate) and Dizzy to lead us again.Yours obedyWm. F. PhilpottParliamentary General Election, 15th November, 1922To the Electors of ChelseaDear Sir or MadamAt 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 aspublished on October 26.The Government which has been in power ever since the Armistice hasdone nothing during the past four years to restore normal life to Europe. Ourtrade su?ers because our customers are ruined. This is the chief cause of theunemployment and destitution, unparalleled in our previous history, fromwhich our country has su?ered during the past two years. If we are to regainany measure of prosperity, the ?rst necessity is a wise and ?rm foreignpolicy, leading to the revival of Eastern and Central Europe, and avoidingsuch ignorant and ill-considered adventures as nearly plunged us into warwith the Turks. The Labour Party is the only one whose foreign policy is saneand reasonable, the only one which is likely to save Britain from even worsedisasters than those already su?ered. The new Government, according to thestatement of its own supporters, does not di?er from the old one on anypoint of policy. The country had become aware of the incompetence of theCoalition Government, and the major part of its supporters hope to avert thewrath of the electors by pretending to be quite a di?erent ?rm. It is an olddevice – a little too old to be practised with success at this time of day. Thosewho see the need of new policies must support new men, not the same menunder a new label.There is need of drastic economy, but not at the expense of the leastfortunate members of the community, and above all not at the expense ofeducation 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 beenwasted utterly, and it is in these directions that we must look for a reductionin our expenditure.I am a strong supporter of the capital levy, and of the nationalisation ofmines and railways, with a great measure of control by the workers in thoseindustries. I hope to see similar measures adopted, in the course of time, inother industries.The housing problem is one which must be dealt with at the earliestpossible moment. Something would be done to alleviate the situation by thetaxation of land values, which would hinder the holding up of vacant landwhile the owner waits for a good price. Much could be done if public bodieswere to eliminate capitalists’ pro?ts by employing the Building Guild. Bythese methods, or by whatever methods prove available, houses must beprovided to meet the imperative need.The main cure for unemployment must be the improvement of our tradeby the restoration of normal conditions on the Continent. In the meantime, itis unjust that those who are out of work through no fault of their own shouldthe autobiography of bertrand russell 380su?er destitution; for the present, therefore, I am in favour of the continuationof unemployed bene?t.I am in favour of the removal of all inequalities in the law as between menand 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 theworld are faced with terrible dangers. The Labour Party has a clear andsane policy for dealing with these dangers. I am strongly opposed to allsuggestions 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 nohope of improvement from parties which advocate a continuation of themuddled vindictiveness which has brought Europe to the brink of ruin. Forthe world at large, for our own country, and for every man, woman and childin our country, the victory of Labour is essential. On these grounds I appealfor your votes.Bertrand RussellFrom G. B. Shaw10 Adelphi Terrace, W.C.2[1922]Dear RussellI should say yes with pleasure if the matter were in my hands; but, as youmay imagine, I have so many calls that I must leave it to the Labor Party, actingthrough the Fabian Society as far as I am concerned, to settle where I shallgo. 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 generallyfull, and the meeting is apparently very successful, the people who run afterand applaud me are just as likely to vote for the enemy, or not vote at all, onpolling day. I addressed 13 gorgeous meetings at the last election; but not oneof my candidates got in.FaithfullyG. Bernard ShawP.S. As you will see, this is a circular letter, which I send only because itexplains the situation. Nothing is settled yet except that I am positivelyengaged on the 2nd, 3rd and 10th.I suppose it is too late to urge you not to waste any of your own money onChelsea, where no Progressive has a dog’s chance. In Dilke’s day it wasRadical; but Lord Cadogan rebuilt it fashionably and drove all the Radicalsacross the bridges to Battersea. It is exasperating that a reasonably winnableseat 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 totouch me for at least a ?ver apiece.From and to Jean Nicod France15 June [1919]Dear Mr RussellWe shall come with joy. We are both so happy to see you. How nice of youto 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 bepublished 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 thinkinga 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. Wefeel quite elated at the thought of being some time with you.Yours very sincerelyJean Nicod53 rue GazanParis XIVe28th September 1919Dear Mr RussellI could not see Romain Rolland, who is not in Paris now. I shall writeto him and send him your letter with mine.We are not going to Rumania. I am going to Cahors to-morrow, andThérèse is staying here. There is now a prospect of going to Brazil in eighteenmonths. Of course I am ceasing to believe in any of these things; but we arelearning a great deal of geography.I have de?nitely arranged to write a thesis on the external world. Part of itwill be ready at Christmas, as I am being assured that I shall ?nd very littlework 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.YoursJean Nicod