Busy at Cambridge "altering the position of matter in space — a form of activity I dislike, because it achieves nothing important."

Cunningly arranged for only two lectures a week.

"The odd letter [now in the Russell Archives—dated 21 Feb. 1911] I received this morning": from Archibald Henderson, student of his and professor of pure mathematics at University of North Carolina "[which apparently exists]".

Is sending her "various unsuccessful attempts at writing, mixed up with private reflections, that I made nine years ago." [These are with the Ottoline Morrell papers at the University of Texas; copies are in the Russell Archives.]

On Cambridge—"civilized" half of him.

BR declined an invitation from the Astronomer Royal of Ireland to lecture in Dublin for a term.

"Have you seen that there is a thing by Mrs. Whitehead in this week's Nation? ["Suspense", The Nation (Lon.), 22 April 1911, 125-6.] She has been expecting it for some time, but it was delayed. It seemed to me to have great merit."

New pen from O.

See pupils in morning to fix time of lectures.

Afternoon to speak at Ely to Women Liberals on Adult Suffrage.

Must concoct plan of lectures for term.

He made the lecture plan, and "detailed notes" for 1st lecture.

Walked with [G.H.] Hardy—"The only male vampire I have ever known."

On Mrs. Pope-Hennessy's book.

She has Philosophical Essays.

Met G.B. Shaw and Mrs. at Ely Cathedral—they drove back. "Very friendly relations" with his pupils.

Not sure the [Whiteheads] will want him weekend.

On his Irish-Scotch-Welsh-French background.

On spending money: ... "I have always been willing to spend any sum on keeping efficient."

Given away large sums of capital.

"I save money on clothes and cabs and books, and I try to travel cheaply and only when it is important."

Only gives to strong people who will soon not need help. Moustache—doesn't care about it.

"I say the very least I can to Mrs. [Whitehead]."

Going to look at some Chelsea houses.

[Whiteheads] want him to go to Marlborough.

On Verrall during his illness.

To Lady Ottoline Morrell (1911 April 26)

"Wednesday morning … Your lovely long letter of Monday and yesterday". Sends her old letters: one from Forsyth; other from "the man who translated Spinoza, whom I reviewed [W. Hale White, trans., Spinoza's Ethics, The Nation, 8 (12 Nov. 1910): 278, 280]; he is "Mark Rutherford" whom she may have read.
"Please return them. I also found a typewritten copy of my article on history which I will send you to keep. I think it contains some things I cut out before publishing." Wrote to Una Birch [Pope-Hennessy] about her book. "I found Robert Bridges delightful" at Oxford. Loves Keats's letters.

To Lady Ottoline Morrell (1911 April 26)

"4 p.m. in haste My Darling—your note on plans has just come."

To Lady Ottoline Morrell (1911 April 26)

"Wednesday My Dearest here is a mass of stuff, mostly not up to much—still, in parts it may interest you."

"Thursday My Dearest Dearest—your two wonderful letters of yesterday both came by 2nd post, as I was on my way to my lecture."

"Thursday night My Darling—I have only a few moments before my people come, just to say I have had both letter and telegram, and I will be at the Brit. Mus. 11.35."

Not attempting to write at present (couldn't now).

"Mrs. [Whitehead] has a belief, which I think unjust in spite of some facts, that I am not very constant in my affections."

"Then, as I told you, I loved once again, 9 years ago; but that was unhappy, and died a gradual death for want of nourishment."

On his "perfectly cold intellect": "I have deliberately cultivated it, and it is really the main thing that I have put discipline into." "Nothing is sacred to it."

Went to see Fanny's First Play [Shaw].

"I find the [Whiteheads] are coming to London on Monday by the same train with me, so you must keep outside the waiting-room if by any chance you arrive before me. They would not wish their children to see us."

"Yes, I understand fully all you feel about Mrs. Whitehead. She would I know like you to be friends with her. It will be easier, because it won't be necessary to discuss ourselves."

"Sunday morning in bed. I have no more paper left except this, on which I had noted houses in Chelsea."

The transcription of the text has been moved to record 17115. This letter is a continuation of the letter started in record 17115. The record is retained because there may be citations to it. (K.B. 22.7.24)

Visited [Whiteheads] yesterday.

"Got on with Alys very well until the Boer War." Felt war very much; sudden '"conversion"' in middle of Boer War — became pro-Boer, Alys [Russell] didn't like it.

"... Except the little book for the series, I have very little creative work that I ought to do for years to come...."

Beginning of July — to go with North to Lockeridge for fortnight; will nearly finish book there — finish in August. Grandmother [Lady John Russell].

Don't treat Mrs. Whitehead as very ill.

Mrs. [Hannah Pearsall] Smith [Alys's mother] died yesterday. "I think all forms of communism develop the competitive instinct in bad ways."

Laird (pupil of BR)

Chrouschoff (pupil of BR)

"I have a gift of words".

"Bosanquet is a perpetually smiling ass".

"[G.F.] Stout ... Is a delightful man—he was one of my teachers here, and I have kept up with him ever since."

Received stacks of French proofs for Paris papers.

Going over Bryn Mawr exam papers [see BR's letter to Lucy Donnelly on these papers, record 58510.]

On jealousy

D.S. Robertson

Moore's appointment as university lecturer—"a pleasant event of the day" ... "If I had the time, I could easily spend the whole day writing to you." "I have an impulse to write about everything, however trivial...."

[Although written on Bagley Wood notepaper, the letter is postmarked Cambridge. BR left BW in Oct. of 1910.]

"Thursday night My Darling—your letter has just come, and I have only time for one line."

About the Crammer's and Fitzgerald.

What he read there: "Shelley constantly, Milton a good deal, Carlyle, Mill, Herbert Spencer, Dante, and all sorts."

"Thursday mg. Yes, dearest, it was worth 1d., or even three halfpence, which was what it cost."

"Sunday aftn. My beloved—I cannot ever tell you how very perfect these days have been."

Long visit from North [Whitehead].

"My Beloved Ottoline -- Your most delightful letter fills me with joy."

"My Dearest Dearest—I must write you a line to reach you tomorrow morning, altho' I have no letter from you tonight— not that I was really expecting one."

Still not finished French proofs. [Probably "L'Importance Philosophique de la Logistique", Rev. Met. Mor., 19: May 1911, 281-91; and "Le Réalisme Analytique", Bull. Soc. Franc. Phil., 11: March 1911, 55-82.

Bicycling with North [Whitehead].

"Tuesday evg. My Dearest Dearest—I ought to be doing all sorts of business, but I am so overcome with love that I must write to you."

"Mrs. [Whitehead] tried to bring me back to a proper moral point of view, in which one's own decisions were what mattered, but somehow that view seemed too small to fit, tho' I suppose it was right."

"Thursday noon—your dear letter of last night has just reached me."

[Beatrice] Webb's visit.

His French disciple came.

"McTaggart always goes to sleep, and can't be got to speak unless one attacks him fiercely, when he suddenly becomes witty."

"I am glad you sent tulips to Mrs. [Whitehead]—she has a passionate love of flowers."

Paris (O's there): BR's memories:

1889—with "enemy-friend" Fitzgerald 1st time abroad since 2, a great excitement.

April 1894—joined Alys [Russell] and family on way back from Rome. Embassy—"I loathed that time ..." but made friends with the Sturges. Mrs. [Mary] Berenson.

1900—"I persuaded [Whitehead] to think equally well of Peano, and that was the beginning of our formal cooperation."—That autumn was the "supreme time" of his life, intellectually.

Lytton's [Strachey] beard.

"I wrote to [G.F.] Stout on the nature of truth, in answer to a criticism of me which he sent me about six weeks ago.... Probably Stout will answer and it will go on for ever." Reading The Idiot.

Carlyle.

He "destroyed your letters to Paris, because you had not yet told P." [Philip Morrell; see also #30, record 17092, where BR says he has them all.] and BR was afraid of being run over.

"I think Thomas Aquinas, who founded Catholic orthodoxy, had probably as great a love of truth as I have."

Will be with Whs. [Whiteheads] Tues. nite; also today at 6.

Doesn't like the Apostles any more—"frivolous".

"I am very glad indeed that Moore will be up—he is splendid. His nature is transparent, crystal, like a mountain spring—he always speaks the exact truth, because it does not occur to him to do otherwise, and he does it so simply that nobody ever minds."

"The Whs. [Whiteheads] have gone to Alys at Fernhurst this weekend—I shall hear their report on Tuesday."

Wants their love to produce something [written] for the world.

"Monday" "My Dearest Dearest this will be only a line, because I don't think it will reach you, but I write on the chance."

"Monday aftn. out of doors My Beloved Ottoline I was glad to get your letter of yesterday."

"... I would rather suffer anything—even morally—than believe what is false or rather what I fear I might find to be false if I looked into it...."

Wh. [Whitehead] was called down from top of house where he was working to answer telephone for BR.

Religion—positive side very interesting.

See last paragraph of Philosophical Essays on Pragmatism.*

*"Life on this planet would be a life in prison if it were not for the windows into a greater world beyond."

"I loved going to the Russian dancers with you."

"I find my thoughts are gradually coming round to the book I have to write then*—I have a certain number of more or less vague ideas on the subject. But it will be a very difficult book to write."

*At Marlborough.

"My Darling I have just a moment to write a line to thank you for your dear dear letter."

"I want to get free from business, and away from purely technical jobs, and really try to write out something of what I live by in the way of faith."

"Evening. My Dearest Love—I have just time for a line before the post goes—to thank you for your dear little letter."

Alys [Russell] threatens divorce. Miserable time.

The letter was written on 20 May and continued 21 May 1911.

"My Dearest I ought to be considering my remarks tonight but it doesn't seem possible."

Spoke at Girton.

"I have got a huge bundle of ms. from Wh. [Whitehead] wh. I must tackle tomorrow."

"Tuesday night My Darling I will reach you at 10.30 tomorrow if that is not too early for you."

"Thursday midday My Dearest your little line was a comfort to get, just as my people were coming to be lectured to."

"Tuesday aftn. My Dearest life—Your little letter was a very great joy to me."

"I feel quite sure Logan [Pearsall Smith] and Alys [Russell] will quiet down. And thanks to Mrs. Wh. [Whitehead] they will do nothing irrevocable meanwhile."

Spinoza—the 3rd book of Ethics is best.

"How absurd to say I believe in freedom in sexual matters— I neither believe in it nor have practised it."

"Rupert Brooke whom I dislike"

"It is always first a r[h]ythm I want*—r[h]ythm gives the emotion more than anything else."

*In writing.

"... Cleared off a host of letters. I enclose one that might interest you. It is awful how letters mount up—one seems never to be done with them."

Agrees to teach the mathematical men to write essays.

"I have got some proof-sheets to look over. For the last 3 months there have been no proof-sheets, because Whitehead came upon an unexpected difficulty. So that we had to stop the printing. But Whitehead has put it straight, and now the proofs have begun again. They take up a great deal of time when they are in full swing. They will probably last about another 18 months."

Re Principia.

Discussing with Whiteheads. "Also been talking work with Whitehead—there is a lot to discuss."

"Sat mg." "My Darling—Two letters from you this mg. were a great joy, and they hold out hopes of another when I get to Carlyle Sq."

"The Whiteheads say it will be as well anyhow for me to leave Cambridge a year from now, and I dare say they are right—at any rate it is what I should wish to do if all goes well. And they say I ought to go off Newnham Council at once, which I do naturally by merely not standing for re-election. This for the sake of Newnham."

"Darling I have only a moment to write."

"Even the Whiteheads are now quite easy in their minds."

Ottoline was troubled by Logan [Pearsall Smith's] coarseness.

"Monday night My Darling—I have heard from Ipsden that I can have the rooms—I have taken from July 24, which is a Monday."

"I have had endless painful talks with the Whiteheads, both of them, till I am sick of the whole sordid coil."

"The Whiteheads always depress me—I dare say I shall be thoroughly cheerful again when I get away—but I must say they have more reason this time than usual."

"I want to accomplish, during my life, a good deal more work in philosophy, of which I already have the ideal in germ. But I am no longer quite young, and I have spent a great deal of energy on the big book now printing, so that it will be uncertain whether I shall have enough energy left for another big job. I can however do a good deal in any case."

"3." I want to write general things on religion and morals and popular philosophy."

Has given her a Spinoza lesson—"I should like to go on with philosophy with you"....

"Sat nite" "Sun mg."

Lion Phillimore. [Dated from letter 149.]

Has furniture from Whitehead's college rooms.

"Thursday evg.

My Darling

I have just told Dickinson that Alys is probably going to live with Logan, though we remain perfectly good friends. He naturally received the information in silence. I don't think I need tell any one else. It is unpleasant, and he will tell other people. Most people here will think it very sensible. By the way, I meant to say that I feel sure Alys doesn't know of your visit here. She would have told the Whiteheads, and they certainly don't know of your visit to Carlyle Square. They constitute her "evidence" I am sure; she knows nothing else, or she would have told the Whiteheads and they would have told me. I meant to have said this, because it would be unpleasant if she knew anything in detail, and I am sure she doesn't."

"Friday mg.

My Darling

Your letter this morning was an unspeakable joy to me. You really need not be so afraid that your thoughts will seem "foolish" or "baby-talk"—they don't at all—and I feel very strongly all you say. Until now I have always found that the really great and important things were painful, and that all happiness was of the nature of oblivion and intoxication. This gave me a sort of religion of sorrow—I had not always the courage to live up to it, but it was right as far as my experience went. When I was very young I was very unhappy from loneliness and loss of religion—I was often near suicide, and much oppressed (quite groundlessly) by fear of insanity, which I knew was in the family. Alys was to me an escape, but also an escape from seriousness, which I feared. In some ways it was good for me to be free from seriousness for a time—I did a very great deal of work and I acquired a fund of sanity. But it meant that she remained outside my deeper life, which stopped for a time. Since then, everything until now confirmed my feeling that the happy things are trivial compared to the painful ones. But I am afraid it is useless to hope that my views of the world at large will ever become very optimistic—there are too many things to be set on the other side. I see no evidence whatever that there is any purpose in things, and it seems probable that human life and all that we value must die out. And in life as it is, I think it is hard not to suppose that evil predominates. All these questions are unaffected by one's own experiences, and there is no reason why one's own experience should alter one's views about them. What it does alter is the bias—I had a bias towards making the worst of things, and now I haven't."

"I enclose the letter from Professor Perry which I thought might amuse you. He is the head and front of the American Realists, who are a set of young philosophers who largely agree with Moore and me. I am more of an authority in America than anywhere else."
 

"Friday night My Dearest Dearest in spite of obstacles this has been a wonderful time to me—I have felt a more absolute union than ever before."

"Friday night My Dearest—I have been prevented from writing till it was too late for more than a scrawl."

"I have had a letter from Alys saying "As we are to have a formal separation for a time by mutual consent and with no explanations" and so on. So I gather she does not regard it as final yet-a-while. She says she is writing to a few people to tell them of it, including my Aunt Maude. This is all to the good, though Aunt Maude* will disapprove. She forced the Cobden-Sandersons to come together after they had had a happy time apart—at least I have always thought it was her doing." ...

*[Maude Stanley]

"Yes dearest, you do give me what I have never had before—a happiness completely good and completely satisfying, as great and serious as the great tragic things of life. The physical union is quite essential—without that it would not be calm, but always feverish and not quite satisfying. It will take time for me to adjust all my other thoughts and feelings to it—hitherto they have been so much adjusted to quite other sorts of emotions." ...

"I quite agree with you about early Victorian times, and I like the 18th century in France, but not in England—in England it is the 19th century I like. I didn't expect my Grandmother's life to interest you on its own account, but I wanted you to know what is an important background to my thoughts and feelings.—Spencer Walpole's life of my Grandfather is dull—I don't much admire my Grandfather*, he was vacillating and full of uneasy vanity, but he did two great things, the Reform Bill, and Italian unity in 1859-60."

*[Lord John Russell]

Monday mg. Gone on with writing popular book.

"Tues. 1.30 My Darling—It was very nice getting two letters this morning, and they made up for yesterday."

"Friday

My Dearest Life

I can't find any words good enough for our two days—they were so absolutely perfect. It was delightful talking to you about my work. I must try to find more things to say about it without being too technical. And I love the thought of reading philosophy with you. There is a great deal that we might read—any quantity of Plato—Berkeley—parts of Descartes—it will all be delightful. And I can talk of my own plans for future work. Only work always turns out rather different from what one has expected. I thought P.* felt my presence almost unendurable, and thinking so, I admired his behaviour very much indeed. I felt a sense of shame in his presence—not reasonable but instinctively. I am glad the first meeting is over—it will be easier another time."

Will be at the Whiteheads' tonight.

*[Philip Morrell]

"Sat. My Dearest Dearest Your letter this morning was a great joy—your letters always are, but this one was even more so than usual."

Sun. mg.

"Yes, I felt we grew into each other more during our days—I had more and more the feeling of resting in you absolutely, and the feeling of a lifetime of comradeship in great things ahead of us. I can never tell you the feeling of solemn peace that I have when I am with you. I have often imagined the Martyr's first moment in heaven—when the glory of God is revealed, and the grave music of the angelic choir first floods his soul—I don't know anything less that will do for a comparison."

"Wh.* was never not nice, only one saw he was making efforts — and that seemed over now."

Geach, his Welsh pupil.

*Whitehead

"Monday evg. My Dearest Dearest I have such a longing for you that I must write altho' I ought to be working."

Wed. evg.

"We had tea at Grantchester, and walked in the fields in places where I hadn't been for nine years. I remembered so well all the emotions I had had then—horribly painful, almost all of them. The country is vast and level, with wide skies and quiet fields stretching away to the horizon—very satisfying when one is happy, but rather a mockery when one is not, because it is so peaceful. It is strange how one lives through things—it makes life seem so long, and as if it was not one life but many. I feel I have lived three complete lives and am now in a fourth— which I hope and believe will last till I die. But so far my work has been the only thing that gave unity to my life—in that, there has been very complete unity since I was quite a child. And in that I have wasted no time and made no serious mistakes—I have nothing to regret or excuse—when I have done other things, it has been no more than was good for work. This has often made me put my love of perfection into work chiefly, because I had come to despair of perfection in human relations. I am no good at making great effort to keep things second-rate instead of third-rate. But if a thing can be first-rate I can do anything for it. That is why I only do well where something really good is involved. For our love I could do anything, I believe, however hard. To make the good better is so much more inspiring than to make the bad a little less bad. Our love is full of religion to me—but if it lost that, I should feel everything was lost—however much might be left it would seem nothing. That was why I wanted to part when I was afraid of jealousy—parting, I could have kept the religious feeling; but not parting and being jealous, nothing worth having would have remained."

"My Dearest Dearest Your dear letter of yesterday has just come by second post—there is nothing to get me up on Monday mornings, as no letter comes from you till 11."

"Tuesday night"

"As soon as I got home I set to work writing my popular book, but I was soon interrupted by Lytton and Hugh Meredith."

"In spite of being so short, our time today was very delightful. It was hard to go so soon, just as we were really beginning to talk. But how wonderful our little talks are—I like your impulse to go slowly, it seems always to leave something in reserve. At first I had a wish to urge you on to speak of things, but now I enjoy waiting for you to have the impulse to speak. I feel satisfied it will all come in time. About P.—my feeling towards him is all that you could wish, and when the awkwardness is worn off I shall be quite easy with him. As far as I am concerned, I could be friendly and enjoy talks with him. But of course if he really made it difficult for us to meet at any time, I can't be sure I should continue friendly. And I can't yet be certain as to jealousy—I only know I have none now. I want you really to know and feel that my love is solid, that it is not of the moment or liable to grow less as I know you better. It does not depend upon any small thing or upon novelty or upon anything that is temporary. I talked of the big things today, but there are other things that make for permanence. First of all that all your ways delight me—your manner of speaking and your gestures and everything. Then our feelings harmonize over physical things—and there are thousands of ways of failing to harmonize over physical things. All this is very cold and reasoned, because it is your reason I want to appeal to, to make it known that on my side at least there is no rational probability of any diminution. I find it easy to believe that there is not much on your side either—for similar reasons."

"I enclose a nice letter from my Uncle Rollo Russell. I have never said a word to him about my matrimonial troubles. I hate this injured-martyr business, but it can't be helped. It is funny that the welfare of Philip and Julian should depend upon my assuming virtues I don't possess—but since it is so, may God give me the strength to play the hypocrite—to manage the half-repressed sigh, the sad smile, the praise of Alys which only exhibits my own nobility of soul, and all the rest of the apparatus. When I am bankrupt, I can hire myself to a troup of nigger minstrels as the melancholy man who is the foil for the clown. It is rather agreeable to pretend to be cheerful when one is miserable, but pretending to be heart-broken when one is filled with happiness is rather a dirty business. However as it has to be done I get my fun out of it."

"Now I have to go and see the press about printing, and then I must get on with writing my book."

"My dearest bed-ridden old woman—It was very sad leaving you today—I did long to stay—I wanted to stay and soothe you and make you rest—but alas that is what one can't do in our circumstances."

"I went to the Whiteheads, and was received with a face of blank horror—it turned out they were just expecting Alys so I had to fly. Then I made a whole round unsuccessfully and at last found my cousin Ethel Portal just beginning to recover from one of her shattering headaches. I found Alys had written to her! I stayed a very short time as her Dr. came. I had dinner here with Dakyns who had been to hear Breal and had enjoyed it. Then we went to the Sangers—first downstairs with the men—Vaughan Williams, Duncan Grant, Smyth, and a man named Ferrars who was a mathematician in my time at Cambridge and is now a barrister in the Malay peninsula. He entertained us with stories of the rubber boom out there—an essentially masculine conversation, full of finance and roguery."

"I was sorry I had gone to the Whiteheads—it upset her rather and therefore me."

Friday night

"I have a feeling of depression over me today—it is due to your being so tired—also to the physical effect of Mrs. Whitehead's face of terror when she saw me yesterday...."

"It has been peaceful here, Bob reading me his poems as usual—they are of no value but I don't tell him so, as I don't think he could do anything better. We went a long walk with a bathe in the middle this afternoon—it was very beautiful. But Bob was a bit of a bore. Their little boy is called Julian, which causes confusion in my mind. He is a nice child, I always rather enjoy people who have children—if possible—nice children are so extraordinarily lovable. Bob and Bessy are happy together, though Bob would not make any woman happy who wasn't a saint—he is so very selfish and oblivious of others. All the same I have a great affection for him. He has an odd placid existence with his books—no temptations or storms or upsets—only the half-faced knowledge that his is no good. He is oddly literary—he never approaches any feeling directly, but always through what the poets have said about it. I half despise his life, yet I find it restful, and I have often enjoyed the holiday from real things. At present I don't need that, so my visit is less enjoyable than some previous ones."

Sunday night

On Trinity College printed stationery but still at the Shiffolds with the Trevelyans.

"Sunday 8 a.m. My Dearest Only a moment for one line."

"Thursday"

"I had proofs to do." Written more of Problems of Philosophy.—"I am getting into it now gradually, and I think I shall probably get it finished in July. I hate having to write to order—it is so much pleasanter to write as the spirit moves one. Still there are ways of moving the spirit."

"Today was quite wonderful—I have never known such absolute happiness as we had." ... "The following is a geometrical proof in the manner of Spinoza of a proposition which it is important you should know.

Axiom I. The attraction between me and another person is directly proportional to the merit of the other person and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between us.

Axiom II. O. is an object of infinite merit.

Axiom III. The distance between O. and me is zero.

The pupil is expected to construct both the proposition and its proof from the above data, remembering that the letter O stands for "object". I have endeavoured to produce belief in the proposition by the intuitive method, which relies on its inherent obviousness, and by the inductive method, which points out the number of facts not explicable on any other hypothesis, but in the end the geometrico-deductive method will produce the desired result in the reader.

This letter is all nonsense—I am too happy for sense. Dearest it is all too wonderful for words—and there is no limit to it. I love you ever more and more."

"Tuesday night. My Dearest Dearest—What a heavenly day we had."

Re Karin Costelloe Stephen. Not mentioned as being enclosed with letter #120 but in that position on microfilm.