"I enjoyed meeting you and your husband very much indeed. It was very kind of you to let us come and I thank you very much for it. It gave me great pleasure to listen and speak to you."

"Any day we shall be delighted to see you and Lady Russell...."

"As you know I am one of your followers, and I have read most of your books, so may I send you a copy of Principles of Social Reconstruction, and if you would autograph it for me, I shall be most grateful."

"I am returning herewith your copy of Social Reconstruction duly autographed."

"Do you know about the Peace Foundation that has been started in my name? In case you do not, I am sending you some leaflets about it."

"Lord Russell has asked me to send you the enclosed literature about this Foundation. It is possible that Lord Russell has overlooked the fact that you kindly contributed to our work at the time of our exhibition of works of art at Woburn Abbey in the autumn of 1963."

"The leaflets about the Peace foundation arrived this morning. I shall be most interested in reading them. As a matter of fact I have sent a humble contribution in the past, but am too hard up to do anything useful."

"I have just been reading your brother Frank's Life and Adventures, and am amused at discovering one fact, that is, I and my sister had a governess called Miss White when I was about 13 years old."

"I think I am right in remembering you have a 91st birthday on the 18th of this month. If so, I want to send you a birthday cake."

"It will be my 93rd birthday and I expect to be here on that date. I regret to say that I have never read Rockwood either as a boy or since."

"I have wasted a little time to send the book [History of Western Philosophy], which you are so kindly going to autograph for me, as I feel sure you must have been overdone with congratulations on your birthday and had heaps of letters to write."

Elspeth has received her copy of A History of Western Philosophy back from BR, signed. 

"It is wonderful to think you only took about a year to write such a wonderful book. Every page full of interest, and understandable by the half educated like myself."

"Your last letter vanished and has now reappeared—you did hint at the possibility of coming down one afternoon and now in the loveliest moment, before a heavy green covers the woods—I expect you may be back from Wales."

"I am curing a cold and shall go to the sea for a few days—after that I shall beg you to drive Bertie here—that would give me much pleasure—Not much more than 20 miles."

"My sculpture is very scarce—my first inspiration was the first meeting of Plato and Socrates, owing to indolence about material it fell to pieces, but you can see a photograph (and shed a tear). The second was Spinoza seated at a table grinding a lense [sic] and thinking an immortal thought."

"I find I shall be at the Club on Thursday night—and delighted if you (both or either) could lunch on Friday 8th...."

"I have ordered a bit of Alabaster to carve Bertie, but it has not come yet and I have no idea what weapons to use. The piece will be quite small and I thought I could do it in the Alps."

"Is Bertie at his book and will it be readable for such as me?"

"Please could you send me two copies of your Autobiography, if possible autographed, one for my daughter Jennifer whose picture you so much admired—in the Guardian in 1961—walking in the march with her little Nigerian friend."

"I shall be sending you Freud and Jesus by Jonathan Hanaghan. Alas, you did not take to his last book I sent you."

Strong requests a third copy of BR's Autobiography, to be inscribed for Jonathan Hanaghan, author of Freud and Jesus, Society, Evolution and Revelation and other books. Hanaghan came into contact with BR as a pacifist during the first world war, according to Strong.

Strong encloses a newsclipping of a picture of his daughter, Jennifer Duncan.

"I have sent to you, separately, two copies of the first volume of my Autobiography and I hope that you will receive them soon."

"Forget about 3rd copy, if you like. I am so very sorry to have troubled you so much. I know it is inconsiderate. But thanks indeed for two already posted."

"I have sent a few poems to Bertie by separate post, specially asking the favour of a small preface from his pen."

"But Bertie read your poems at once when they came last week and wrote you about them. I expect you will have received his letter before this reaches you."

"I will ask no more favours of you other than this—will you give me a brief Preface to my 'Poems of the Ordinary', illustrated by Pauline Bewick?"

"I know he will be most disappointed by your decision but will of course understand the necessity of it."

"This little book goes out to you with affectionate greetings for Christmas. I was sorry you could not write the Preface."

"Thank you for thinking of me at Christmas time and sending me your book of poetry. It was very kind of you."

"Here is an odd request I have to make to you on behalf of two granddaughters; will you send me two (or more) signatures on white paper, which they can stick as autographs into their copies of my book on my mother, with your preface on the Stanley family."

"I am very happy to enclose the two autographs that you mention, and I shall be very happy to see the recipients at any time convenient to us both."

"It would be fun to see you again. I've always enjoyed seeing you from my early visits from Girton to the last one Francis and I made together about six or seven years ago!"

"Some while ago you were so charming as to say you would welcome a short call from my granddaughter Carol Eden. ... She would truly enjoy a visit to you."

"It is an ever-pleasant memory to me to recall how nice you were to me so many years ago at Cambridge, when I was at Girton, at Carol's age."

"My husband's cousin Lady Henley has written that you are to be stopping with your grandmother for a week in Penrhyndeudraeth and we should be very happy if you and Mrs. Davies could come to tea with us while you are in this neighbourhood."

"I've been fascinated by your childhood account in the February 26 Observer. But, knowing the exactitude of your mind, will you tell me what evidence you have that your mother did or did not enjoy 'living with' your Tutor. This story is so extraordinary that I wonder if I've misunderstood—Did your parents really agree to 'sharing' married life in full sense, with the Tutor??"

"My knowledge of my parents relations shortly before her death comes mainly from Cobden-Sanderson who was in love with my mother and would have liked to have the status of the tutor. He was often at Ravenscroft and knew all that went on."

"My brother refused to believe the story, but I felt its truth, as Cobden-Sanderson related it, was irresistible."

"Auntie has given me a splendid book, called A Child of the Revolution, by the author of the Atelier du Lys. She and I have begun reading it together. Grandmama Stanley gave me a Shakespeare, one in small volumes in a case, about as fine an edition as possible. Wasn't that a magnificent present?"

For the original letter, see record 53648.

"Bertie says you mean to write—I don't reproach you for not writing, but wonder how you keep warm enough."

"When I broke my leg in Rome, the sister said I was the most reasonable patient in the home (I agreed and thought my head was screwed on the right way). Now you hint that Bertie thinks my judgment good—my head is now turned and I walk backwards!"

"The prospect of meeting is hopeful. I found your letter on returning from two days at the Club."

"I continue your and Bertie's education in art by sending my illustrations to the Chinese (and Indian diary). There are three or four sketches that I like particularly."

"I enjoyed your talk on Ibsen last night. I couldn't hear Tourgenieff, because no Radio by my bed—my mother painted his portrait which Diana has. He was a great friend in Paris of her family and I enjoyed all his books in French."

"I like one of the drawings of Bertie better than the other. My Chinese Diary has affected one eye in the other."

"I am glad there is a chance of meeting soon."

"When Wobwn was full of deer and lots of ducks, geese, cranes, the Park was delightful."

"Did I ask you—I meant to—whether the oil portrait of Bertie was for you—or a presentation portrait for 2? I could only think of Gunn Anthony Devas and Norman Heppell. There is also a Cathleen Mann, once Lady Queensbury said to be very good. But I couldn't recommend any without going to their studios and seeing two or three recent ones—which it would amuse me to do on your behalf."

"I like the photograph very much. Thank you for typescripts which I will read and return."

"Yesterday I had a visit from a young architect Robert Bridges (grandson of the poet) and asked him to recommend a portrait painter—he was enthusiastic about Graham Sutherland, which I am not."

"I never drew Bertie—but I thought I would paint an oil head for you!"

"I suppose you saw that horrible caricature of Bertie in Punch—Ronald Searle is my Bête noire artist—never funny often indecent in advertisements."

"P.S. for Bertie. You said, I quote from memory—'When I grew up almost all my contemporaries filled me with disgust.' I was a contemporary."

"I got home yesterday and seem to be on the mend."

"A good artist writes: 'As to portraits I would say that if I were going to have myself painted tomorrow I would choose Simon Elwes to do it. He has two portraits in the R.A. which are alive—make all the others look like coloured photographs'."

"I long for a word to say that Bertie did not suffer from that seven hours journey."

"So I got out my canvas and placed Bertie from memory—It was the image! But wrongly placed, so I brushed off the charcoal and put it in its place. ... Will you please take your tape and measure from corner of left eyebrow to bottom of chin".

Flora has drawn a simple sketch of BR at the bottom of the page, showing Edith where to make the measurement.

"I have no news of you and long to hear good news."

"Mary Bennett (nee Fisher) came to see me and talked of you and her admiration for your life of W. Blunt."

"Love to Bertie. Something can be done to mitigate antifeeling. Perhaps very little."

"My ankle is better thank you. Would you like an old map (Moll) where Snowdon is called Snowdon Hill."

Flora sends a newspaper cutting of Judith's obituary (not present).

"Anthony has just brought me some corn and says Bertie laughed and laughed and I said 'What did you talk about?' Reply—oh a good deal about you!"

"I hope you are better. I told you I was painting Bertie from memory—really from the sketch—small print from the Radio T. Now I find a print that I like much better and I want to try again. Have you a photograph from which either was made?"

"I heard Bertie on the Brains Trust about a fortnight ago. Not television—of which I have a horror."

"I am worse than you, I have not acknowledged interesting photographs and this morning paper about Stanley."

"Do you remember Bertie asking me suddenly  'What is Maud like?' I had given up analysing her." Flora quotes a letter from her brother, Conrad, discussing Maud.

"But this morning at 6AM when I hear B.B.C. European News I heard of your renewed Campaign in The New Statesman and also The Times strong attack on Economy in European News."

"I await next Sunday's Observer to see Bertie's article."

"No sooner had I read your letter and looked at the New Statesman cuttings and filed them in a safe place than when I wanted to re-read—the 'safe place' was empty."

"The Postman told my maid that B. had been on Television (commercial) and very good 'He knows what he is talking about'."

"Have you had any dealings with the Dalai Lama"?

"I listened, les oreilles béantes, to Bertie last Sunday so clear and Diana heard him also, but writes that metaphysics are a closed book to her."

"My wish is to have a go at Bertie's portrait, only a pencil sketch—half an hour or 3/4."

"The Times as far as I see is totally silent about your meeting. They did mention four meetings in the list of forthcoming events but no names. So I fear you are very wicked and may shortly be in prison."

"To continue about cooks, Diana gave her a cutting from News Chronicle about three hours interview with Bertie. American? Not T.V.? Done at your Home? I suppose? I hope highly paid."

"The sea is here, but the wind is not from the sea (yet)".

"I was going to worry about you both, but saw that Bertie had spoken in House of Lords. If you come to Richmond and had your motor perhaps you will drive here once again?"

"I am going to eat some sea air. I hope to go to Brighton in hopes of rejuvenation."

"Are you relieved or disappointed that the Swiss will not allow you to go to Bâsle? They seem to have an odd idea about neutrality. Have you a small copy of Bertie's present views on the subject of the H-bomb?"

A draft of a letter.

"We were not disappointed by making no journey to Switzerland, but were—and are—bitterly disappointed by what the Swiss Government's refusal meant. The attitude towards nuclear disarmament everywhere and the difficulty of publicizing, even here in this country, the views of those who uphold its necessity, and the spread of the H-bomb from country to country, are dismaying in the extreme."

"Have not yet read Bertie's typescript. Full of sympathy and love from us both."

"Last Sunday, Anthony and Alicia packed four children in the motor and intended to start on Monday at 4 a.m. and drive to the cottage they had last year. He then wrote to me, 'I was captivated by Bertie's charm'. (This for you not for Bertie!)".

"I asked C. whether she would paint Bertie and she would greatly like to do it."

"I should like to hear that you see a break in the clouds? I see nothing but violence and increasing helplessness. But I hope I am wrong."

"I hope to see Bertie's 'commonsensical' book. Elizabeth is coming here tomorrow and I expect she will have seen you. She says your house is very small from outside."

"I wrote Bertie a line and sent a comic card. I hope you laughed."

"Are you in London yet? I hope to go to Elizabeth this evening for three days and as you live so near perhaps you and Bertie could look in for a few minutes?"

"I am so glad you and Bertie favour a look at Woburn."

"I rang up Elizabeth and heard she had been to Trafalgar Square, driven by Christian Maxwell (the artist I now recommend for Bertie's portrait)".

"There is a great grandson of Uncle Charles—a Birkin very nice chap—who longs to know Bertie his aunt Marjorie Russell tells me."

"As far as I can understand the Radio Times—Bertie is going to confront the Asians in Liverpool on Friday 27th."

Flora gives David Birkin's address and his family tree.

"I have read and much enjoyed Gilbert Murray and especially your chapter."

"I saw the Trojan Women and Gilbert Murray spoke—it was in aid of some Peace Charity."

"I saw Bertie on my maid's television and saw he looked delightfully audible."

"Bertie forbids me solemnly to go to sit down meeting on February 19—, says he has forbidden you to go. Does it not follow that we both urge him not to go?"

"Do ask Bertie to write a really great play for her—Molière, Shakespeare, Aristophanes must be surpassed—Caroline has worked hard."

"One of your letters seemed to say you were going to pack up Hasker Street."

"I should like to show you letter of Uncle Odo to my father (typed copies) from Versailles in 1871. He was a delegate to the Germans outside the Walls."

"I know that you were fond of my father for you told me so. This is to ask whether you have any recollection of his elder brother whom we called Uncle Bedford? I think he must have come to Pembroke Lodge in your early days."

"My factotum (or factota) Molly put her head in and said excitedly Quick the Radio. An old lecture of yours was on, an extract—you were describing your visit to a Roman Catholic service and the priest intoning Latin and next a low church minister telling you to repent of your sins. What a mimic you can be!"

"Tell Bertie that his cousin Madeline Midleton was here the other day and said she hoped he was well in spite of his exertions."

"I am re-reading my father's diaries and find on March 2 1880 'I took Bertrand Russell over the House'. House means House of Commons."

"I am sending you with this letter the photograph taken some weeks ago in Hasker Street of you with Lord Russell and the bust of Socrates."

"Yes, please keep all the photographs."

"I note your wish about Bertie's medal—and I hope to send you or better still give you an imitation bronze head of Uncle John—if the cast cannot do a real bronze."

"Did you ever get Queen Victoria's typed diaries about her visit to Woburn or (horrid thought) did I not post them? or were they lost in the post?"

"I read something of Bertie's activities in Sunday Times and the Guardian, but oh! I am so slow—but today I have a pen that works and don't you think my handwriting is rather good"?

"Can you tell me about the Geophysical Year? I heard it on European News on 464 at 5.30. What I heard was that 60 or 70 Top Men of Science were meeting and collaborating in Rome March 8."

"The National Portrait Gallery has formally accepted my gift of Uncle John's head modelled by Boehm in unbaked clay and tinted with terra cotta."

"The pronouncement that Bertie is working on a new idea is most interesting to me."

"I am grateful to Bertie for sending his new book and it might come tomorrow."