Sir Harold George Nicolson KCVO CMG was an English diplomat, author, diarist and politician. He was the husband of writer Vita Sackville-West, their unusual relationship being described in their son's book, Portrait of a Marriage.
For anyone wishing to immerse themselves in the political,social and cultural life of the 1930s, the diaries and letters of Nicolson make an almost perfect starting point.
Whether setting down his thoughts on jettisoning the diplomatic service for a career in journalism and book-reviewing; standing as the National Labour candidate for the seat of Leicester and winning; buying a semi-derelict Kentish castle, Sissinghurst, and painstakingly creating (with his wife Vita Sackville-West) it’s now-legendary garden; researching and writing close to a dozen volumes on a variety of topics; embracing, and ultimately abandoning, his membership of Oswald (Tom) Moseley’s New Party as it became increasingly pro-Hitler; detailing his acquaintances and friendships with the leading writers of the decade or his measured and moving recounting of the great events of the decade, which culminated in the abdication of Edward VIII and the internal machinations that led to the breakdown of negotiation and the outbreak of another world war - this is writing of the highest order, riveting, humane, set down as it occurred, indispensable.
Harold Nicolson was a successful member of the British diplomatic corps who, in 1930, gave up his promising career for the dual uncertainties of a life in politics and as a man of letters. Over the three decades that followed he went on to write a flood of books, articles, and reviews, many of which remain worthwhile reading today. Yet what has proved the most enduring contribution from his pen are the diaries he kept throughout this period, which were edited for publication in the 1960s by his son, Nigel. Benefiting from Nicolson’s perceptive eye and an ear for the telling quote, these provide an invaluable view of British political society during the middle decades of the 20th century, thanks to his well-positioned perspective during a momentous era in his country’s history.
Nicolson’s perspective was far from a comprehensive one. Though the first volume of his diaries covers the years during which Britons coped with the Great Depression, they offer an account very much at odds with the experiences of millions of his countrymen. His struggles were not their struggles; as while they faced want and hunger he fretted over the expenses of having two sons at Eton and maintaining two homes in Kent and a place in London. Though his wife, the writer Vita Sackville-West, was far more sensitive to the suffering of others, the selections from their correspondence that supplement the diary passages are far more focused on their personal activities and the planning of their famous garden at Sissinghurst. The impoverishment that characterized the era was something that happened to other people.
Yet even at a remove the political problems of the Depression dominate the entries in this book, which challenged Nicolson’s attempts to find a place on the political scene. Initially drawn to the dynamism of Oswald Mosley and his embryonic New Party, he broke from it in despair over Mosley’s increasing embrace of fascism and drifted politically over the next three years. It was a reflection of the regard in which he was held by his peers that Nicolson was invited to stand for Parliament as a “National Labour” candidate in the 1935 general election, which awkwardly placed him in association with the Conservative-dominated National government then in office. Winning a seat by just 87 votes, he found himself a member of a tiny group of captains without an army, one that existed largely to maintain the façade of a cross-party administration.
This limited Nicolson’s opportunities for office, which may have been for the best. It was as a commentator on foreign affairs that he was in his element, and he was elected at a time when such developments were of growing concern politically. His observations about politics and foreign policy increasingly dominate the selections in the latter half of this book, as Nicolson enjoyed a front-row seat to the efforts to grapple with the rise of Nazi Germany. Having opposed fascism in his own country he was no more sympathetic to seeing its growth abroad, which put him at odds with Neville Chamberlain’s efforts to appease Adolf Hitler. This brought Nicolson into closer association politically with Winston Churchill and other anti-appeasers, yet what comes across most in his entries is the struggle they faced to unite around a response on which they could all agree. Yet his conviction never wavers in these pages, even though he expresses no satisfaction when events prove his judgments correct.
The volume ends with Nicolson’s entry for 3 September 1939, with the expiration of Chamberlain’s ultimatum to Hitler and Britain’s entry into the Second World War. Concluding the book here leaves Nicolson on the cusp of a new era, one that would be defined by the demands of war. Though far from definitive, it provides an invaluable firsthand perspective on what brought Britain to it. Its pages are filled with lunches, teas, and dinners with some of the most prominent figures of the era, as Nicolson demonstrates an almost Zelig-like ability in his associations and attendance. This would continue thanks to his fortuitous presence in the House of Commons, making not just this volume but the two that followed it necessary reading for anyone seeking a window into many of the key events that defined the decade.
Terrific. As good a record of the period as you could hope for, at least for its writer's place in society. (Nicolson was a diplomat, son of a diplomat, a writer, a politician, and, perhaps most famously, the husband of Vita Sackville-West.) Deft weaving of the personal, the social and the political. The tension he evokes in the run-up to the war is the best thing I have ever read for giving a feel for what that time must have been like. His personal takes on figures like Lindbergh, Churchill, Chamberlain, James Joyce, and Oswald Mosley are indelible. A page-turner of which at the same time you don't want to miss a word.
Harold Nicolson crosses paths with Chips Channon in his diary Henry Channon - and likely much more in real life. They both were queer men (Chips far, far richer than Harold Nicolson) married to unconventional wives (Vita Sackville-West was one of the top five more famous lesbians in 20th century history; Channon's wife Honor was a richer than Midas Guinness who had multiple affairs) (not that Channon wasn't doing the same, only with men not women). They were both diarists of the time period, on the other side of the fence. Nicolson one of the 1930s anti-appeasement Glamour Boys; Channon a virulent Chamberlain-phile and pro-Nazi). Nicolson's diary is a MUCH duller and dryer than Channon's. Channon - especially as he aged - became much more candid about everything, especially his queer life. Reading Nicolson, you would never suspect that he and his wife had affairs with those of their same sex. After reading Channon and being in the know, the queers of the 1930s and 1940s that were such a part of Channon's life keep popping up again and again in Nicolson's diary. That was fun. Regardless, of Nicolson's closet-ness, even in his diary, the time period is still interesting to read about. Nicolson had front row seats to many of the big events of the 1930s - Mosely and the Blackshirts, Mrs. Simpson and the King's Abdication, Munich, etc. Fans of nonfiction about the 1930s will gobble this down, I think.
I ordered a used copy and it smelled like every old library you've ever been in. It's called "bibliosmia" -the pleasant smell and aroma of a new (or any) book, caused by the gradual chemical breakdown of the compounds used within the paper.
Some (purport to) find Nicolson too arch and self-obsessed to be entertaining; I disagree entirely, but can appreciate such criticisms as it is only fair to admit that Nicolson, whilst clearly essentially good-hearted, is not altogether familiar with the lifestyles and perspectives of his social inferiors. However 'bedint' he and his wife might- often, based on the anecdotes provided, not unreasonably- consider others to be, his diaries are witty and provide a splendid commentary on the age, from an individual unusually well-placed so to do.