In this latest--presumably the last--volume of The Autobiography, recent events are remembered with considerably less of a serene remove. Lord Russell's endeavors in the cause of world peace and nuclear disarmament, which lately and currently occupy his energies, are set forth in increasingly feverish detail--the formation of the Bertrand Russell Peace Foundation, the ""War Crimes"" trial, a spectacular jailing, conferences, speeches. Splits and sectarian schisms, plus a certain amount of plain damn foolishness endemic to high-minded but amateur political influence groups, can be maddening to a nonagenarian conscious of his precious allotment of time. Throughout the private and public papers, correspondence, and manifestos, there is a revealing smattering of personal detail: Russell was, admittedly, outrageously delighted by the fuss on his ninetieth birthday; he was not above spluttering with irritation at being saddled with unsupervised grandchildren at Christmastime; and he seems touchingly humble and anxious about his ability to cope with the work of a young mathematician, The memoir is sometimes sprightly, sometimes discursive, sometimes relevant, and at other times off target--shadow and substance of an aging but indomitable intellect.