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• Simon Winchester

  FDR, Harold Nicolson, and the Toledan Hostess

  Tags:

  Adolf Hitler,

  diaries,

  Franklin D. Roosevelt,

  Great Depression,

  Harold Nicolson,

  Simon Winchester,

  Vita Sackville-West

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  Harold Nicolson’s long marriage to Vita Sackville-West was perhaps less conventional than most. While it had its high points--the joint creation of the now-famous garden at Sissinghurst, in Kent, for one--it also had its lows: his pursuit of Vita, by two-seater airplane, when she eloped to France with her lesbian lover Violet Trefusis, must rank high among them.

  The man once described by John Sparrow as “a nineteenth-century figure, living an eighteenth-century life in the twentieth,” was many things: diplomat, journalist, politician, intellectual snob and elitist of monumental proportions. But above all he was a diarist, and the three volumes of entries and letters edited by his younger son Nigel remain among the best portraits of the events that led up to and followed the Second World War.

  In the frigid first months of 1933, Harold and Vita were invited on a lecture tour of the United States, their first-ever visit. It was a wild success, although Harold did not greatly care for Americans: “Not only do they have no sense of the past: they have no sense of the future. They do not plant avenues for their great-grandchildren…it gives a ghastly feeling of provisionality.”

  U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Inauguration Day was March 4, at a time when the Great Depression was biting particularly hard and the financial system was in chaos (Two days before, twenty-three states had suspended or curtailed banking operations). Harold Nicolson found himself that day in Toledo, Ohio, a penance at the best of times, and he recorded his attempts to listen to what he surmised would be an important inaugural address (FDR, of course, obliged and delivered the famous nothing to fear but fear itself speech). But an intensely irritating Toledan hostess, whom Nigel Nicolson tactfully edits into a Mrs. Strachey, had other plans.

  We adjourn to a huge Department Store where we have luncheon with a Women’s Club. Daffodils and wall-flowers on the table. The rest of the guests at little tables all around. I sit next to a woman in purple silk. “Well, Mr. Nicolson, and are you going right to the coast?” “Yes, Mrs. Strachey, we go to San Francisco, Los Angeles and Pasadena. We then visit the Grand Canyon.” “That is swell for you, Mr. Nicolson. When I first saw the Grand Canyon I said, ‘My, if only Beethoven could have seen this.’ You see, I am very musical. I do not know how people can see life steadily unless they are musical. Don’t you feel that way, Mr. Nicolson?”

  
  Meanwhile the inauguration of President Roosevelt was proceeding in Washington, and a huge voice was braying out across the daffodils. “And now,” yelled the voice, “the historic moment is about to arrive. I can see the President-elect…” The band strikes up at that moment Hail to the Chief. My neighbour pauses for a moment while we have the president’s inaugural address. It is firm and fine. “It is such a pity,” twitters Mrs. Strachey beside me, “that you are only staying such a short time in Toledo, Mr. Nicolson. I would wish you to see our museum here. We have a peristyle of the purest white marble--a thing of utter simplicity but of the greatest beauty. I always say that the really beautiful things in life such as the Sistine Madonna are beautifully simple.”

  “Small wonder,” boomed the voice of President Roosevelt, “that confidence languishes, for it thrives only on honesty, on honour, on the sacredness of obligation, on faithful protection, on unselfish performance…” “You see,” whispered Mrs. Strachey, “the peristyle is lit by hidden lights in the cornice. And they change colour, Mr. Nicolson, from the hues of sunrise to those of midday and then to sunset. At night it is all dark blue. Very simple.”

  I strive to catch the historic words of Roosevelt. “With this pledge, I assume unhesitatingly the leadership of the great army of our people dedicated to a disciplined attack upon our common problems…In the event that Congress should fail to take one of these two courses, and in the event that the national emergency is still critical, I shall then not evade the clear course of my duty that will then confront me.” “You see, Mr. Nicolson,” whispered Mrs. Strachey, “our peristyle is a dream in stone. Now I mean that literally. The architect, Mr. J. V. Kinhoff, dreamt of that very peristyle. And one day…” “Mrs. Strachey,” I said firmly, “do you realise that the new President has just proclaimed that he will, if need be, institute a dictatorship?” “My,” she said, “now isn’t that just too interesting? Not that I care for the radio, Mr. Nicolson. We have one, of course, at home above the bathing-pool. It sounds so much better out of doors.”

  Afterwards, Viti and I have to stand up to say a few words. I get back on them by stating that they have just listened to the most important announcement in American history. We then go to the station and entrain for Detroit.

  13th March 1933, Cleveland
  The banks have opened in most places and the people are pouring in with their hoarded gold. Partly patriotism, partly fear of being shown up, but mainly the effect of Roosevelt’s wireless address. No man has ever enjoyed such sudden prestige…

  Within a month Harold and Vita had sailed back to their beloved Sissinghurst. “The grass has grown in the inner court. My new wing has been done. The chimney is too high. My bedroom and bathroom are divine. The primroses are superb.”

  But while they had been away, Adolf Hitler had been elected Reichschancellor. An ominous reminder, perhaps, that extreme and repugnant politics can rise swiftly and silently in times of economic trial, while the mindless twitters--or Twitters--try to divert the minds of the masses.

  August 27, 2009
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