Dear Bertrand Russell, 1969
[Chapter 5] Anekdota: Foreword
The driving curiosity of the public is a particular fate reserved for the famous, and Bertrand Russell was no exception. His photograph and autograph were top priority. His books were purchased and then sent to him for personal signature. Poems were dedicated to him. Sketches and drawings were heaped upon him. Sculptors sent his bust to him. A miscellany of personal data was collected by people of the most divergent interests, hobbies and pursuits-any information able to confirm for an inveterately curious public the fact that a great figure lived and breathed as they do.
Russell obliged with good humour, never falsely elevating his tastes, never making a fetish out of his preferences-although he was rather definite about his brand of whisky. Sweet Molly Malone really was his favourite song, and Lord John Russell's pudding his favourite recipe, although he had never tasted it. With a touch of irreverence these join the chosen fads of the famous, painstakingly recorded for posterity by an ever-faithful public. With the Sunday painters Russell was equally tolerant, occasionally allowing himself the indulgence of a minor suggestion: '. . . I have signed the sketch but I very much hope that you will reconsider the shape of the nose.'
Russell was very much in the public domain. He was not merely the property of those organizations connected with the nuclear disarmament movement. Under the slogan 'Greek marbles must go home!' his support was sought by a committee demanding the return of the Elgin Marbles. As with all saints, nothing was spared sanctification. His necktie was requisitioned for display and sale, alongside the ties and cravats of other famous men, at a 'Ties of Friendship' exposition. To all, Russell's response was sympathetic and helpful. The hostile letters, and there are vast quantities of these, were never taken personally. They were answered with great aplomb and pith, and the answers always managed to be constructive.