Morgenkaffen hadde selskap av Harold Nicolsons dagbøker fra 1907 - 1963. Vanligvis holder jeg meg unna andres dagbøker, men etter å ha lest Nigel Nicolsons bok Portrett av et ekteskap nølte jeg ikke lenge da Harold Nicholsons dagbøker fristet meg i en bokhandel.
Harold var gift med Vita (Sackville-West) og det er deres ekteskap Nigel (sønnen) skriver om i sin bok.
Et spennede par dette.
Vita var forfatter, Harold diplomat, politiker og forfatter. Deres forhold var kanskje turbulent, men sterkt og preget av en kjærlighet med takhøyde, forståelse og frihet. De var uvanlig tillatende og tilgivende mot hverandre.
Begge var tiltrukket av sitt eget kjønn, og selv om Harold nok hadde sine svin på skogen, var det Vitas utenomektenskapeligheter som var mest himmelstormende, om vi skal tro bøkene. Hun hadde en intens affære med Violet Trefusis og senere et mer jordnært forhold til Virginia Woolf.
Men tilbake til Harolds dagbøker. Han noterer en del om "vær og vind". Og han tenker så godt, skriver så fint og var aktiv i en avgjørende periode i europas historie. Han har en personlighet man lett blir glad i, og det som gir meg mest glede er hans mer personlige betrakninger.
Her et brev som belyser ekteskap, kjærlighet og storsinn:
December 17, 1926, Teheran
H.N. to Vita
No, my sweet, it doesn't annoy me that you should write so much about Virginia [Woolf]. From your point of view I know that the friendship can only be enriching. I am of course a little anxious about it from her point of view as I can't help feeling that her stability and poise are based on a rather precarious foundation. I mean it would be rather awful if you coming out here made her ill. That is my main consideration. Attached to it, like a little ivy growing at the foot of a castle, is the feeling that she will make me seem dull to you. Not jealousy, darlig - only an instinctive movement of self-defence. But my dominant idea is one of pleasure that the rich ore of your nature should be brought to light - I know that it does you mental and moral good to be with her and be loved by her, and that is all that matters. I think you are very akin - the marriage of true minds to which I will not allow myself (even to myself or to you, which is the same thing) to admit impediment.
And as for my relations with Virginia - I shall never forget how kind she was to me when I was smarting from Lyon's rudeness. There was no reason why she should have been nice about it except that she saw I was flustered and in real pain. So at the bottom of my terror of her glimmers a little white stone of gratitude which can only be increased by her loving you.
Mange år senere får Vita kreft og 2. juni 1962 skriver Harold i sin dagbok:
"It is a lovely morning. I get up early and walk round the garden. V. is asleep, and I do not disturb her. Glen [the Labrador] dances on the lawn with his brother, Brandy. I breakfast with Niggs, and then force myself to do my review of the composite book Companion to Homer. I finish it about 12.30, and start reading the newspaper. Ursula is with Vita. At about 1.5 she observes that Vita is breathing heavily, and then suddenly is silent. She dies without fear or self-reproach at 1.15. Ursula comes to tell me. I pick some of her favourite flowers and lay them on the bed."
Det ble tårer i morgenkaffen....
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