Brixton Letter 13
BR to Constance Malleson
June 3, 1918
- AL
- McMaster
- Edited by
Kenneth Blackwell
Andrew G. Bone
Nicholas Griffin
Sheila Turcon
Cite The Collected Letters of Bertrand Russell, https://russell-letters.mcmaster.ca/brixton-letter-13
BRACERS 19311
<Brixton Prison>1
<early June 1918>2
Je ne saurais te peindre, ma douce amie, l’impatience qui me ronge. C’est en vain que je fais des efforts pour détacher mes pensées de toi. Quoique je fasse, ton image m’accompagne toujours, et le désir de la réunion ne me permet plus de m’occuper d’autre chose. Je pense au moment où je me trouverai dans tes bras — je pense au repos infini qu’il y aura à dormir à côté de toi. Il n’existe pas pour moi d’autre repos qui soit réel — le repos ordinaire n’est que pour le corps, tandis que le repos que tu me donnes est un repos aussi pour l’âme — j’oublie non seulement les chagrins personels,a mais tout ce qui est terrible dans le monde — j’oublie les souffrances, les cruautés, les petitesses — tout ce qui cause le désespoir quand tu es absente. Ou plutôt non, je ne les oublie pas, mais je vois, dans ces moments où tu me tiens dans les bras, qu’il y a quelque chose de beau qui est aussi fort que le désespoir. Pour moi, les choses qui n’ont aucun rapport avec le désespoir ne sont pas sérieuses. Les choses de l’art et de la pensée, qui appartiennent exclusivement à la partie civilisée de la vie, sont sérieuses: on peut les mettre en contrepoisb au désespoir, on peut dire: voici pour l’autre côté du compte. Mais il n’y a là aucun mélange, aucune solution, seulement deux forces opposées. Il n’y a, à ce que je sache, que l’amour qui puisse vraiment faire entrevoir une solution. L’amour, tel que je le ressens pour toi, appartient en même temps aux deux régions: la région civilisée où se trouvent l’art et la pensée, et la région primitive où se trouvent la mort et la solitude et la terreur. Dans l’amour, la terreur cesse parce que la solitude n’existe plus. Il est difficile de trouver un amour réciproque si intime qu’il fasse cesser la solitude, mais il est possible. Tu l’as fait pour moi. Je ne sais pas si je l’ai fait pour toi; si non, je le ferai dans les années qui viendront. Et c’est pour cela que ce qui est le plus essentiel, c’est de dormir ensemble, car c’est là que se nourrit la partie instinctive et primitive de l’amour.
<Translation:>
I could not portray for you, my sweet friend, the impatience which gnaws at me. It’s in vain that I try to detach my thoughts from you. No matter what I try, your image accompanies me always, and the desire of reunion no longer allows me to think of anything else. I think of the moment when I shall find myself in your arms — I think of the infinite rest I shall have sleeping next to you. There isn’t for me any other rest as real — ordinary rest is only for the body, while the rest you give me is a rest for the soul — I forget not only my personal sorrows, but also all that is terrible in the world — I forget suffering, cruelty, pettiness — all that causes despair when you are absent. Or rather, that I don’t forget, but I see in these moments, when you hold me in your arms, that there is something beautiful that is as strong as despair. For me, things that have no relationship with despair aren’t serious. Things of art and thought, which belong exclusively to the civilized part of life, are serious: one can put them in contrast to despair, one can say: this is for the other side of the ledger. But there is no mix, no solution there, only two opposing forces. As far as I know, only love can really provide a glimpse of a solution. Love, such that I feel for you, comes at the same time from two regions: the civilized region where art and thought can be found, and the primitive region where death and loneliness and terror are found. In love, terror ceases because loneliness no longer exists. It’s difficult to find reciprocal love so intimate that it stops loneliness, but it is possible. You did that for me. I don’t know if I did that for you; if not, I shall do it in the years to come. And it’s for that reason that sleeping together is the most essential, because it’s sleeping together that nourishes the instinctive and primitive part of love.
- 1
[document] The document was edited from the unaddressed, unsigned original in BR’s handwriting in the Malleson papers in the Russell Archives. He filled only the ruled side of a sheet of thin laid paper and folded it once. There are no initials of approval on it.
- 2
[date] Editorially dated early June 1918 because, in the absence of pretence that it was an historical letter, it likely followed the French letters that did pretend to come from the French Revolution; and because of the emphasis on despair, which BR took up a few days later in his letter-statement for Clifford Allen (Letter 18).
Textual Notes
Brixton Prison
Located in southwest London Brixton is the capital’s oldest prison. It opened in 1820 as the Surrey House of Correction for minor offenders of both sexes, but became a women-only convict prison in the 1850s. Brixton was a military prison from 1882 until 1898, after which it served as a “local” prison for male offenders sentenced to two years or less, and as London’s main remand centre for those in custody awaiting trial. The prison could hold up to 800 inmates. Originally under local authority jurisdiction, local prisons were transferred to Home Office control in 1878 in an attempt to establish uniform conditions of confinement. These facilities were distinct from “convict” prisons reserved for more serious or repeat offenders sentenced to longer terms of penal servitude.
Clifford Allen
(Reginald) Clifford Allen (1889–1939; Baron Allen of Hurtwood, 1932) was a socialist politician and publicist who joined the Cambridge University Fabian Society while studying at Peterhouse College (1908–11). After graduating he became active in the Independent Labour Party in London and helped establish a short-lived labour newspaper, the Daily Citizen. During the war Allen was an inspiring and effective leader of the C.O. movement as chairman of the No-Conscription Fellowship, which he co-founded with Fenner Brockway in November 1914. Court-martialled and imprisoned three times after his claim for absolute exemption from war service was rejected, Allen became desperately ill during his last spell of incarceration. He was finally released from the second division of Winchester Prison on health grounds in December 1917, but not before contracting the tuberculosis with which he was finally diagnosed in September 1918. He was dogged by ill health for the rest of his life. BR had enormous affection and admiration for Allen (e.g., 68 in Papers 13, 46 in Papers 14), a trusted wartime political associate. From February 1919 until March 1920 he even shared Allen’s Battersea apartment. A close friendship was soured, however, by Allen’s rejection of BR’s unforgiving critique of the Bolshevik regime, which both men witnessed at first hand with the British Labour Delegation to Russia in May 1920 (see Papers 15: 507). Yet Allen was far from revolutionary himself and did not even identify with the left wing of the ILP (which he chaired in the early 1920s). He was elevated to the peerage as a supporter of Ramsay MacDonald’s National Government, an administration despised by virtually the entire labour movement. Although Allen’s old intimacy with BR was never restored after the Russia trip, any lingering estrangement did not inhibit him from enrolling his daughter, Joan Colette (“Polly”) at the Russells’ Beacon Hill School.
Constance Malleson
Lady Constance Malleson (1895–1975), actress and author, was the daughter of Hugh Annesley, 5th Earl Annesley, and his second wife, Priscilla. “Colette” (as she was known to BR) was raised at the family home, Castlewellan Castle, County Down, Northern Ireland. Becoming an actress was an unusual path for a woman of her class. She studied at Tree’s (later the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art), debuting in 1914 with the stage name of Colette O’Niel at the Duke of York’s Theatre, London, in a student production. She married fellow actor Miles Malleson (1888–1969) in 1915 because her family would not allow them to live together. In 1916 Colette met BR through the No-Conscription Fellowship and began a love affair with him that lasted until 1920. The affair was rekindled twice, in 1929 and 1948; they remained friends for the rest of his life. She had a great talent for making and keeping friends. Colette acted in London and the provinces. She toured South Africa in 1928–29 and the Middle East, Greece and Italy in 1932 in Lewis Casson and Sybil Thorndike’s company. She acted in two films, both in 1918, Hindle Wakes and The Admirable Crichton, each now lost. With BR’s encouragement she began a writing career, publishing a short story in The English Review in 1919. She published other short stories as well as hundreds of articles and book reviews. Colette wrote two novels — The Coming Back (1933) and Fear in the Heart (1936) — as well as two autobiographies — After Ten Years (1931) and In the North (1946). She was a fierce defender of Finland, where she had lived before the outbreak of World War II. Letters from her appeared in The Times and The Manchester Guardian. Another of her causes was mental health. She died five years after BR in Lavenham, Suffolk, where she spent her final years. See S. Turcon, “A Bibliography of Constance Malleson”, Russell 32 (2012): 175–90.
Constance Malleson
Lady Constance Malleson (1895–1975), actress and author, was the daughter of Hugh Annesley, 5th Earl Annesley, and his second wife, Priscilla. “Colette” (as she was known to BR) was raised at the family home, Castlewellan Castle, County Down, Northern Ireland. Becoming an actress was an unusual path for a woman of her class. She studied at Tree’s (later the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art), debuting in 1914 with the stage name of Colette O’Niel at the Duke of York’s Theatre, London, in a student production. She married fellow actor Miles Malleson (1888–1969) in 1915 because her family would not allow them to live together. In 1916 Colette met BR through the No-Conscription Fellowship and began a love affair with him that lasted until 1920. The affair was rekindled twice, in 1929 and 1948; they remained friends for the rest of his life. She had a great talent for making and keeping friends. Colette acted in London and the provinces. She toured South Africa in 1928–29 and the Middle East, Greece and Italy in 1932 in Lewis Casson and Sybil Thorndike’s company. She acted in two films, both in 1918, Hindle Wakes and The Admirable Crichton, each now lost. With BR’s encouragement she began a writing career, publishing a short story in The English Review in 1919. She published other short stories as well as hundreds of articles and book reviews. Colette wrote two novels — The Coming Back (1933) and Fear in the Heart (1936) — as well as two autobiographies — After Ten Years (1931) and In the North (1946). She was a fierce defender of Finland, where she had lived before the outbreak of World War II. Letters from her appeared in The Times and The Manchester Guardian. Another of her causes was mental health. She died five years after BR in Lavenham, Suffolk, where she spent her final years. See S. Turcon, “A Bibliography of Constance Malleson”, Russell 32 (2012): 175–90.