"Friday aft." "Here is Wittgenstein just arrived, frightfully pained by my Hibbert article* ["The Essence of Religion"], Oct. 1912] which he evidently detests. I must stop because of him."

[Letter no. is not on letter.]

"Wed. aftn." "And now I don't feel turned away from you when I am friendly with the Whiteheads, as I did last Xmas."

"Thursday mg. My Darling Love—Here I am back once more, feeling the term's work upon me and very business-like."

"Friday evg." "Wittgenstein was really unhappy about my paper on religion. He felt I had been a traitor to the gospel of exactness, and wantonly used words vaguely; also that such things are too intimate for print. I minded very much, because I half agree with him."

"Then Wittgenstein, who is coming back...."

"Sat. mg. My Darling—By now I suppose you are well established in Lausanne, and waiting about in expectation of Combe."

"Sunday mg." "My mind is full of a paper on 'What Is Logic?' which I think may be really important with luck." "Wittgenstein's criticisms disturbed me profoundly. He was so unhappy, so gentle, so wounded in his wish to think well of me."

"Wittgenstein has been here arguing logic—it is difficult, but I feel I must have another go at it."

"Monday evg." Can't get on with "What Is Logic" [an attempt at this is extant.]—"I feel very much inclined to leave it to Wittgenstein."

"Tuesday evg." "Wittgenstein is going for Moore now. Moore has got a trick of repeating himself ad nauseam in writing and lecturing, and apparently he is also inclined to spend his time on unimportant questions. I found Wittgenstein in a state of fury last night, quite determined to tell Moore he must pull himself together. I was glad it wasn't me this time! He loves Moore but doesn't admire him as much as the others do."

"Tuesday mg." "It is almost exactly two years now since I finished what I had to write of the big book...."

"Wed. mg."

Re-writing Matter paper.

"I have been talking to Wittgenstein and pupils a great deal."

"Thursday mg. My Darling Darling—I can't tell you what a joy your letter was this mg."

"Sat. mg." "My paper on matter last night was not a success, it was much too difficult. No one except Wittgenstein understood it at all."

Last Sunday Heretics had paper on "The Religion of Mr Bertrand Russell". —"They little know what practical form Mr BR's religion is taking at the moment."

"Gare du Nord Paris Wed. mg. My Darling Darling it was such a perfectly happy time in every way that I feel there is nothing to say."

"Thursday mg." "Wittgenstein brought me some lilies of the valley. He seems ill, but I can't discover what is the matter. Desmond is here, and from him I heard Moore's view of Wittgenstein's onslaught. Moore took it in very good part, and promised to mend if possible. From Desmond I gathered that Moore still respects Wittgenstein immensely."

Tomorrow he'll read about Matter to Moral Science Club.

"Liverpool Str. Wed. aftn. My Darling Love Here I am safe so far—I reached London about 2 minutes before I was due, so I had time to go to my flat and get tea and a wash and a clean collar, so I shan't look as if I had been a long journey when I arrive."

"Friday mg." "Desmond* came [to his "evening"]—Wittgenstein was there—we argued about ethics. When you see Desmond get him to describe Wittgenstein, I am sure he would do it very wittily." *[Desmond McCarthy]

Proofs of Cause article.

"Matter" opens out for further work.

"Sunday evg." "I am pleased to find that Wittgenstein thinks just as well of that idea as I do [an idea concerning Matter]. His health seems all right again, and he is full of good ideas."

"The Nation also contains an article* on my Hibbert Journal article, which has the impertinence to accuse me of bad logic."

* ["Religion without God", The Nation (Lon.), 12: 27 Oct. 1912, 171-2. Unsigned.]

"Monday evg." "This morning I wrote a review of a worthless little book by Emile Boutroux on W. James*, and then began again on a reply to Dawes Hicks on me in Mind, which I was at in the summer but never actually wrote. That sort of thing has to be done, but doesn't interest me."

*Cambridge Review, 34 (845): 5 Dec., 176. Unsigned.

"Today at last" Wrote reply to Dawes Hicks today ["The Nature of Sense-Data", Mind, n.s. 22: Jan. 1913, 76-81].

"Tomorrow I have Keynes to tea to make the acquaintance of Wittgenstein; then I lecture; after dinner I have to take Wittgenstein to McTaggart's, as McTaggart wants to make his acquaintance. So from 1 o'clock on all my time will be taken up—tomorrow I will write in the morning.

Wittgenstein has been making great progress with his logical problems—more than ever before. But he is not at all well—he is going to see a Dr. and then I hope he will know whether it is nerves."

"Wed. mg. My Darling Love—I was very glad of your dear letter this morning."

"Thursday mg." "Wittgenstein is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, not far removed from suicide, feeling himself a miserable creature, full of sin. Whatever he says he apologizes for having said. He has fits of dizziness and can't work—the Dr. says it is all nerves. He wanted to be treated morally, but I persisted in treating him physically—I told him to ride, to have biscuits by his bedside to eat when he lies awake, to have better meals and so on. I suppose genius always goes with excitable nerves—it is a very uncomfortable possession. He makes me terribly anxious, and I hate seeing his misery—it is so real, and I know it all so well. I can see it is almost beyond what any human being can be expected to bear. I don't know whether any outside misfortune has contributed to it or not. I had him to meet Keynes yesterday, but it was [a] failure.

Wittgenstein was too ill to argue properly. It is funny how one person's presence will throw a new light on another person's; Keynes seemed to me soft and woolly, not nearly as able as I have always thought him. This was not from anything Wittgenstein said, for he hardly talked—it was the mere effect of his being there. Keynes, like most people, will accept a view without accepting its consequences, which is what makes me call him soft.—I also took Wittgenstein to see McTaggart, and that was more successful, though Wittgenstein found it hard to understand how McTaggart could believe such fantastic things."

"Friday mg." "I didn't see Wittgenstein yesterday, and don't know how he is getting on. The scene with him about his nervous troubles took a lot out of me, and I have been tired ever since.... While I was talking with him I was very calm and matter-of-fact, making light of the whole thing, but that made me feel it all the more afterwards. It is rather awful realizing that a person one cares for is bound to have a life full of great unhappiness.

Later. At this point Wittgenstein himself arrived, much more cheerful, very full of some discoveries in his work, and no longer interested in his health. I hope it will last. He has taken up my time so that I must stop."

"Sat aftn. My Darling Love—

Your letter this mg. was such a joy—I can't tell you how I love your letters dearest."

[Continues] "Sat. night 2 Nov. 12"

"Monday night." Younghusband, Cobden Sanderson and Tagore all liked Hibbert article. Will read "Cause" to Aristotelian tonight.

"Monday" "My Darling Love thank you very much for the cocoa, which duly arrived today."

"Tuesday mg. My Darling—I am just back and have found your letter on plans."

"Sunday aftn." "Thank you for the advice about the cocoa. But Wittgenstein is very obstinate, and won't do anything sensible unless it is no trouble at all. Just now he is better, so I suppose he will be utterly careless. Really it is not so much a matter of health—he strains his mind to the utmost constantly, at things which are discouraging in their difficulty, and nervous fatigue tells on him sooner or later. I think physical remedies can mitigate his bad times, but he will always have them as long as he goes on thinking I expect."

[Envelope doesn't belong to this letter.]

"Tuesday night." "Wittgenstein came very soon after I finished my letter—I gave him the cocoa and he promised to use it, but I doubt if he will. He also promised (very reluctantly) to try riding. He is determined to think there is nothing the matter except premature decay of his intellect. But I'm not acutely anxious about him—he is going to be sensible in the end, and is better than a week ago. I had a walk with him and he stayed to tea."

Now reading lots of Tolstoy's shorter bits and working on Matter. Also Forstice.

"My Darling No letter has come from you today—I suppose you mistook the day I was in London."

"Thursday evg. My Darling—I am very sorry I wrote such a cross note this mg—I was disappointed and hasty."

"Friday aftn. My Darling Darling—I am writing for you to get this tomorrow night as Sunday you don't seem to get letters—so my next will be to the holy fathers."

"Sat. mg." "Wittgenstein seems all right again. He is trying riding. Before he took no exercise at all. I think it was only the difficulty of his work that upset him."

Offer received to lecture at Harvard U. in spring of 1914.

"Sat. night." "I had a passionate afternoon, provided by North and Wittgenstein. I had arranged to walk with Wittgenstein, and felt bound to see North's race, so I took Wittgenstein to the river. North was beaten, not by much; he was rather done afterwards. The excitement and conventional importance of it was painful. North minded being beaten horribly, though he didn't show much. Wittgenstein was disgusted—said we might as well have looked on at a bull fight (I had that feeling myself), that all competition was of the devil, and so on. I was cross because North had been beaten, so I explained the necessity of competition with patient lucidity. At last we got on to other topics, and I thought it was all right, but he suddenly stood still and explained that the way we had spent the afternoon was so vile that we ought not to live, or at least he ought not, that nothing is tolerable except producing great works or enjoying those of others, that he has accomplished nothing and never will, etc.—all this with a force that nearly knocks one down.

He makes me feel like a bleating lambkin. I soothed him down at last, and came home and soothed down North. You would think I had never felt the slightest excitement over anything, but was a mere bundle of common sense. The Society have resolved to elect Wittgenstein.—I feel sure he will refuse to have anything to do with them—it is sure to be very difficult. It is all interesting but rather difficult, and it is amazing how much of one's vitality it uses up."

[North Whitehead; the Apostles.]

"Tuesday My Darling Darling I am so sorry you had such an awful storm and are so ill."

[Fragment of letter beginning on page 2 with] "The Dr. here does seem to have done Wittgenstein good.—"

"I don't think the energy is under one's control—the mental habits are to some extent, and I do struggle against them. It comforts me to see how much that is new I can still take in, talking to Wittgenstein. I quite expect to find myself in the middle of a big book before very long."

"Tuesday night My Darling Love—It was a very happy little time in spite of your being tired and ill."

"Monday night" "Wittgenstein has been wearing me out, and the effort to soothe him has left me no energy to soothe myself. And the business about him and the Society has worried me."

"I told Wittgenstein yesterday that he thinks too much about himself, and if he begins again I shall refuse to listen unless I think he is quite desperate. He has talked it out now as much as is good for him."

"Wed. evg." "I haven't seen Wittgenstein."

"Thursday evg." "I have seen North and Wittgenstein—North won his minor race today and is a little consoled.

Wittgenstein has quite decided to join the Society and has got interested in pulling it together—he is happy now, and getting on with his work. So my anxieties are over for the present." [North Whitehead.]

"Friday aftn. My Darling Love Your dear letter of this mg. has just come, and is a very great joy."

"Saturday aftn." "Last night we had a little meeting engineered by Wittgenstein to make Moore chairman of the Moral Science Club, to keep the discussion in order. But though we did this, a young parson there took the line (which is true) that the young don't dare to talk if Moore and I are present, so we decided to have two sorts of meetings, at one of which only the young should be present. I think this was a very good thing, but Wittgenstein was furious, misled by hatred of the parson, who is hateful: he doesn't like being asked questions he can't answer. He was very funny, so obviously uncomfortable out of the pulpit, but his proposal seemed to me good."

"Sunday aftn." "Last night Moore read an old paper of his about conversion—not very good. Wittgenstein's remarks were interesting as autobiography—he said as far as he knew it, it consisted in getting rid of worry, having the courage that made one really not care what might happen.—He has much more of an internal motor-car than I have—the engine drives him on till he is nearly shaken to pieces."

"Monday evg." Now reading a third book on contemporary physics.

"Wed. aftn. My Darling Love—Here I am back again, but still feeling as if I were with you. I was very happy indeed the whole time, in spite of your being tired."

"Thursday aftn. My Darling, Darling—Your dear letter of last night is such a joy to me."

"Friday mg. My Darling I am sorry you are so very tired—but I hope your long day in bed will have prepared you for the 'old beaux' and rested you a bit."

"Friday night." Had book to read for review; also Wittgenstein.

"Sat. aftn. My Darling—It was a great joy to get your letter this mg. but I am sorry you are still so very tired."

"In train to Marlbororough Sat. mg." "Then I went on to the tail end of the discussion on Wittgenstein's paper, and after the rest were gone I got into talking about his faults—he is worried by his unpopularity and asked me why it was. It was a long and difficult and passionate (on his side) conversation lasting till 1.30, so I am rather short of sleep. He is a great task but quite worth it. He is still too simple, yet I am afraid of spoiling some fine quality if I say too much to make him less so."

"I hope there will be some chance to talk with Whitehead about Matter, which I am longing to do; but he is very busy, and the Forsyths are to be there, so it may be impossible."

"Thursday mg." "Last night Wittgenstein turned up with some excellent new ideas on logic—then North came, and he and Wittgenstein quarrelled about Farmer (the Monk), whom North loves and Wittgenstein hates. I was in the middle between them, and shocked them both. North evidently hates Wittgenstein." [North Whitehead.]

"Monday

The train is very full so it is difficult to write."

"Wed. mg." "If one waits long enough, one's correspondent may die or emigrate."

"Thursday 1 p.m. My Darling I must only write one line as I want to get to Barnstaple before it is pitch dark."

"Friday mg. My Darling Before I forget, Lucy Silcox's address is St. Felix School, Southwold.

"Beach Hotel" "Sat. aftn. Darling—No letter this mg. was sad, as now I shan't get one till tomorrow evg."

"Sunday evg." Tomorrow, dinner with Wittgenstein.

"But although I am really quite sane again, and not thinking any black thoughts, I do still feel that, when I am tired or busy, it is a mistake for us to meet at times when you can't seem as if it was a pleasure to see me. Last time certainly the impression you gave was that seeing me was a boring duty.—I was tired when I came, but much more so when I left you at Paddington. At first I was too tired to feel anything except the need of rest—it was only after I had begun to feel rested that other feelings came to the surface. I know the impression you give is not altogether the truth, but it hurts all the same. I have been troubled terribly these last days by the deadness of my feelings towards you—I suppose that was due to fatigue, just as it is with you. Tonight they have begun to revive, and I have no doubt they will be quite alive again by Tuesday. I am reckoning on reaching you at one. Don't bother to meet me; I will walk to the Beetle and Wedge, and reach you when I think you will have finished your rest."

"Monday mg." "I am glad to have done with walking—it is very nasty medicine when one is alone with rain in the winter, but it is much the most effective. One has time to fetch all the spectres out and have a good look at them. I have been fighting for sanity all this time, keeping sane by a concentrated effort of will, which left me no thoughts for anything else. I don't know why I got so bad. I think the excitement of Matter kept my brain active long after it needed rest. And when one is tired, any worry seems unbearable."

"Friday aftn. I wrote you such a scrap this mg., and that so gloomy I must write again."

"Sat. aftn.

My Darling Love—Your dear letter which I found here was a very great joy to me—I am so thankful you are feeling happy—so am I, except I do wish I could be more considerate of you."

"Sunday night." "[Margaret Llewelyn Davies:] She was very full of insurance-act work, but most of all she was occupied with divorce—her enthusiasm is catching and she nearly got me to undertake to write diatribes on the subject—but I told her I couldn't really do anything about divorce in my position. I don't think she has really considered the question all round—she thinks of relieving working women from the burden of drunken or vicious husbands, but she has hardly realized the number of men who would part from their wives simply because they were tired of them. I wish I could do something about it. I am more and more sure that there ought to be no extraneous bond. In most cases, children would be a bond; but where they are not felt to be so, it seems to me simply monstrous that people should be tied. Both the religious view that marriage is a sacrament and the legal view that it is a contract (except as regards money) seem to me utterly and hopelessly wrong. I believe now freedom would produce far less harm than the existing system. And if it loosens the family, so much the better—the family is generally crushing to most of its members."

On way to Whiteheads: "I shall be happier when my visit to Lockeridge is over. It is always a fearful nervous strain there."

"Xmas eve My Darling Love Only one moment to answer your dear letter, owing to late posts."

"Xmas eve My Darling Love It is very difficult to write letters here as there is only one sitting room and no fire in my bedroom, besides that it is hard to get away."

"Xmas day My Darling Love A thousand thanks for the lovely pouch—if I cd. choose your dresses with equal skill, I should be proud!"

"My Darling—It was almost impossible to get a letter written in time for the post this mg., but I don't think it wd. have reached you before the day after tomorrow anyhow."

"Mg. (in bed) My Darling—Your dear dear letter written yesterday has just come—it is such a joy."

Visit to Whiteheads over.

"I got a fair amount of talk on work with Whitehead which was useful. He is working at the mathematical end of the same problem of Matter that I want to tackle from the psychological end, and we hope some day to meet in the middle."

"Sunday" "... I am rather oppressed by the feeling of work to do—it will be very difficult and I dread it, yet I am not content to be neglecting it. It makes it hard to get any real holiday, because the impulse to be attacking it is always with me. I will make a beginning in the mornings at Moulsford—that will give me quite as much time, with week-ends, as I need give to it. If I could, I would take a real holiday, but I can't.—I have just read an American first book of metaphysics, by one of the Six Realists—a sort of expansion of my Shilling Shocker—references to me on almost every other page—but it is a despairingly feeble book. Philosophical capacity is astonishingly rare—people are content with soft ideas, and don't exact sharp ideas that cut like diamonds. Soft ideas are disgusting to one's taste. It is a quite recent experience to me to see the same feebleness associated with my own views that I am accustomed to see associated with other people's—it is far from agreeable. But I don't wonder—it requires a great tension of mind and a constant stringing up of one's faculties to keep one's ideas sharpened. And in philosophy vague ideas are outwardly much more potent and fruitful than exact ones. I believe a certain sort of mathematicians have far more philosophical capacity than most of the people who take up philosophy. Hitherto the people attracted by philosophy have been mostly those who loved the big generalizations, which are all wrong, so that few people with exact minds have taken up the subject. It has long been one of my dreams to found a great school of mathematically-trained philosophers, but I don't know whether I shall ever get it accomplished. I had hopes of Norton, but he has not the physique. Broad is all right, but has no fundamental originality. Wittgenstein of course is exactly my dream. But I should like to make mathematics the ordinary training for a philosopher—I am sure it ought to be. That would require a tremendous propaganda of the sort that moves educational bodies; and I am afraid vested interests would always be too strong. However, when I am too old for original work I dare say I shall take it up.—The impulse to this work on Matter is extraordinarily strong, it quite possesses me, and drives me on like the lash of a slave-driver. The problem is one which nobody has considered or is aware of—I can't make people even see what I want to work at, except Whitehead and Wittgenstein, who feel its importance as much as I do. In fact Whitehead's partly the cause of my interest in it. I think it will be a long time before I get to the stage of writing anything...."

"Friday mg. My Darling Love I feel very happy this mg.—after the first, we had a great deal of happiness."

"Friday mg. My Darling love I feel very happy this mg.—"

"My Darling I found your dear little letter here when I got back, after walking to Streatley in the rain."

[Letter is pmk. Wallingford.]

"Sat. mg. My Darling Darling I cannot tell you what a profound happiness these last two days were to me."

"My Darling Here I am, quite established again—it seemed all rather strange and remote as I drove from the station, but by this time I have done so much business that I almost feel as if I had never been away."

"Sat. evg. My Darling Love Your dear little letter arrived this aftn., drenched with rain, but fortunately still legible."

[Letter is pmk. Wallingford.]

"Moulsford Sunday My Darling—Your dear little note this morning was a great joy."

"Tuesday night. My Dearest Love—What a happy evening it was today—I felt such joy and peace—I love seeing you with other people, because it brings out sides of you that I love but fail to bring out myself."

"Tuesday night. My Darling Darling—In spite of having left you I feel very very happy—deeply and intimately happy—I am so sure that the bond between us is real and great and indestructible, and rests on what is best in us both—and I do really understand what has made things difficult for you—I believe I shall grow more considerate with more understanding—for the present, at any rate, I am full of resolutions to be sympathetic and tender in future."

"Wed. night. My Darling Darling—Your letter tonight is such a heavenly joy to me—you can't know what happiness it gives me."

"Thursday aftn." I got through a great deal of work at the Beetle and Wedge...."

"There are only one or two more sheets of proofs to come, and then I shall have all that time free."

"Friday aftn." "My Darling Love This is only one line to say I will write this evg."

"Sat. night. My Darling Darling—Your dear letter with Julian's has just come."

"Monday morning. My Darling Darling, I am so very sorry you got no letter yesterday—I will post earlier another Sat."

"Tuesday night." "Wittgenstein is away."

"Wed. aftn." "I think Wittgenstein soon will be able to take my place...."

"Thursday evg. My Darling Darling—Yes, I will certainly come twice."

"Friday night" "Wittgenstein's father is dead, and Wittgenstein is getting back here Monday or Tuesday."

"Sat. aftn. My Darling—I am writing early so as to make sure of this reaching you on Sunday."

"Trin Coll. Sunday evg" [continues] "Russell Chambers later"

My Darling Love—Your letter last night was a great joy, and I had not at all expected one today."

"Wed. evg. My Darling Darling—I cannot tell you the hundredth part of the happiness you gave me during this visit—the last moments were so hurried I could not tell you all that was in my soul—all the wealth of love and reverence and thankfulness—I have only now got over the troubles of last spring...."

"Read a lot of a worthless book by Bosanquet which I have to review."

"I saw a lot of Wittgenstein yesterday—he has managed to think a lot, in spite of his father's death."

"Friday night" "I went a long walk with Wittgenstein who did me a world of good. I heard (not from him) that there was an obituary notice of his father in the Times."

"Sat. mg. My Darling—Your lovely flowers have come, and are a great delight."

"Sunday night." "A propos of Wittgenstein I shocked him [Sanger] by saying I thought the present Society a feeble lot."

Sent Karin Costelloe a longish criticism of her Aristotelian paper.

Hardy and Littlewood have discovered a second Newton [is this Ramanujan?].

"When I get back from London I shall have Royce, proofs, preface to write*, lectures, lunch and walk with Ward—besides Wittgenstein and the other people who drop in."

*The preface to Principia, vol. III.