The diaries of the National Trust's country house expert James Lees-Milne (1908-97) have been hailed as 'one of the treasures of contemporary English literature'. The first of three, this volume, which includes interesting material omitted when the diaries were originally published during the author's lifetime, covers the years 1942 to 1954, beginning with his wartime visits to hard-pressed country house owners, and ending with his marriage to the exotic Alvilde Chaplin.
James Lees-Milne (1908-1997) was an English writer and expert on country houses.
Biography He was a noted biographer and historian, and is also considered one of the twentieth century's great diarists. He came from a family of landed gentry and grew up in Worcestershire. He attended Lockers Park Prep School, Eton and Oxford University. In 1936 he was appointed secretary of the Country House Committee of the National Trust, and he held that position until 1950 apart from a period of military service from 1939-1941. He was instrumental in the first large scale transfer of country houses from private ownership to the Trust. After resigning his full-time position in 1950 he continued his connection with the National Trust as a part time architectural consultant.
He resided on the Badminton Estate in Gloucestershire for most of his later years while working in William Thomas Beckford's library at Lansdown Crescent at Bath. He was a friend of many of the most prominent British intellectual and social figures of his day, including Nancy Mitford, Harold Nicolson (about whom he wrote a two-volume biography), and Cyril Connolly. He married Alvilde Chaplin, formerly Bridges, a prominent gardening and landscape expert, in 1951.
From 1947 Lees-Milne published a series of architectural works aimed primarily at the general reader. He was also a diarist, and his diaries were published in many volumes and were well received, in later years attracting a cult following. His other works included several biographies and an autobiographical novel.
James Lees Milne is a man I would have avoided in actual life. His diaries reveal that he was in varying degrees a prejudicial, class conscious, ingratiating snob who numbered amongst his friends and acquaintances 1930s upper crust appeasers including some that held decidedly pro Hitler sympathies. However, he wrote brilliant prose and his descriptions of country houses that he inspected on behalf of the National Trust display impressive architectural knowledge and are models of technical precision. His diaries are addictive and his account of the eccentric lives of the British upper classes fascinating.
The title and authorship on the spine of the book are a bit misleading. This is not a book about the National Trust by JL-M, but rather a collection of essays, edited by JL-M, on various topics, each with a link of some sort to the work of the National Trust. JL-M contributed only one of these essays. The essays are:
Introduction by G.M. Trevelyan I. National Trust and National Parks by Ivor Brown II. Country and Coast by Harry Batsford III. Ancient Sites by Grahame Clark IV. Medieval Buildings by J.H. Harvey V. The Manor House by G.M. Young VI. The Country House by James Lees-Milne VII. Country Buildings by Basil Oliver VIII. Town Buildings by John Summerson IX. Historic Shrines by John Russell X. Nature Reserves by Sir William Beach Thomas Appendix: The Work of the National Trust by D.M. Matheson (Secretary of the National Trust)
The contributors list is a roll call of influential mid-century architectural historians, and readers of JL-M’s diaries will recognize many of the names listed. Unfortunately, some of the essays are little more than a listing of National Trust properties with some details about each thrown in. Some, however, are quite good. I found the most notable to be “Ancient Sites,” “The Country House,” and “Historic Shrines.”
This extensive selection from James Lees-Milne’s diaries provides a fascinating window into Britain at the point when everything Lees-Milne valued seemed under threat. His work as National Trust expert on country houses meant that even as bombs fell on Britain, he was travelling the country looking at greater and lesser monuments to Britain’s upper classes and considering whether they should be preserved. This contrast between the actual dangers and hardships of the war and the evocation of a past world of leisured appreciation of the arts and construction for an imagined aristocratic permanency gives the early part of this book a real charge that somewhat dissipates as we move on to the gloom of postwar shortages of everything except bad weather.
The editor gives the book a kind of structure in Lees-Milne’s relationship with the Mitford family, from deliciously waspish bitching with Nancy during their shared evacuation at, yes, a country house, through wartime encounters with ex-lover Tom, unrepentantly so pro-Nazi that he demands to go to Burma rather than fight Germans, to a final scene where once again free to travel, Lees-Milne and Nancy exchange witty but serious sniping remarks at shared objects of scorn in the South of France. What has changed in the meantime? Everything - Tom Mitford is just one casualty of war lost in the book; Lees-Milne has moved from bachelor in search of an income and a range of short lived sexual relationships to a mature and gratifyingly moneyed marriage; England has been through a trauma whose aftershocks keep creeping in - and nothing. Lees-Milne still mixes with the titled elite to whom as the younger son of recently-gentrified industrialists he constantly feels inferior. He still dines at his club and still hangs out with people who voice an upper-class fascism that makes one surprised Britain actually won the war with such voices in such positions of power.
Both for the author’s own observations and for what he records for us to observe, this is an illuminating book about many aspects of English social attitudes, not least the details of same-sex attraction and relationships at a time when men’s lives could be ruined if any of this became public. A particular delight for me were the footnotes by an editor who is almost more of a snob than Lees-Milne. Every aristocrat, however minor, gets a note, lest the reader not know that a daughter of the 8th Duke of Rutland married the Marquess of Anglesey, but untitled fellow-workers at the National Trust remain anonymous. What happened to Eardley and Miss Paterson? What did they think of the war and social change? We shall never know.
So so good. I could hardly put it down. The man knew everyone in Britain during this period. Fascinating anecdotes. He refers to a woman having a very large frog like mouth which in her was “strangely seductive.” I’ve ordered all his other diaries.
I like reading the diaries of interesting and opinionated people and this one fits the bill. He was a man tasked with visiting old aristocrats thinking of handing over their houses to the National Trust. He also covers personal relationships, sometimes sweetly and sometimes sharply.
A fabulously entertaining read with copious name dropping, gossip and first hand experience of wartime living. Air raids and bombs and food scarcity coupled with high living, glamour and an inside view of many historical properties.
If I had read this volume of the diaries first I probably would not have read any later volumes. Self-absorbed and dogmatic about religion. The writing style is annoying, "one does”, “one doesn't” are over done.
I'm glad I read “Milk of Paradise” diaries first. The last diaries have less drama and more detail of his very full daily life.
His descriptions of National Trust properties and their owners provide an interesting perspective of Britain’s post-war upper class.
James Lees-Milne’s diaries from 1942-1954 (edited by Michael Bloch) are the dictionary definition of fascinating: attracting and holding from the first entries, containing unique power, personal charm, an unusual nature, and thoroughly arousing curiosity and interest. Lees-Milne’s entries cover the middle of World War II and the Blitz, including the Nazi rockets terrifying London towards the end of the war. On Saturday, May 6, 1944, he wrote: “I was pretty certain that, as it had dragged on so long, it would not matter in fifty years’ time who had won it.” When, in actuality, it mattered a great deal who won (the alternative histories where Hitler wins the war, or even sues for peace, are not worlds in which I would want to live). It shows that you don’t always realize how great and important something is when you are in the maelstrom. He also wanted to be buried under a huge monument, but was cremated instead and spread on the grounds of his country estate, which shows his power of prognostication was not all that good. The latter part of his diaries cover the post war period of hunger and cold in Britain - and his eventually falling in love and marrying a married (soon to be divorced) woman. All of these 1930s poets and writers seem to be bisexual - read: Chips Channon or James Pope-Hennessy; apparently Lees-Milne’s wife was bisexual as well (read: Harold Nicolson and Vita Sackville-West). Interestingly, except for a few entires in the 1960s, he stops writing in his diary only to pick it up again in 1971 (Princess Diana eventually makes an appearance) and keep on going until he died. I’m definitely going to read the next volumes.,
Disappointed by this and should maybe give it another go, but became utterly lost with the legions of people James Lees-Milne knew. He's forever having lunch with some grand person or another and I just could not keep track of who was who, what happened last time they met and all the inter-relationships between these people. This is not the diary's fault obviously, but I was also greatly irritated by the footnotes which were much too often along the lines of "Lady Someone daughter of the 5th Earl of Somewhere". This tells you absolutely nothing and can surely only be of interest if you like to relax by drawing family trees of the British peerage. Much more to the point would have been notes that helped you untangle everyone and which gave them some kind of context other than their equally unknown relatives. Still, Lees-Milne writes well and I'm sure I would have got a lot more out of the diaries if I shared his passion for architecture and country houses.
Diaries are always tricky because they are such a distilled version of a life. The sections I enjoyed the most were JLM's needle sharp comments about those he knew, and about whom I had already some knowledge. His passages about Vita Sackville-West and Harold Nicolson, for example, are fascinating as much for what they leave out, as what they include. He walked among the best and the worst of society and is frustratingly spare about those embroiled in national scandals. It is a interesting snapshot of a few years in England, and I expect would be a richer experience if I had read some of his National Trust related writing.