The Age of Reason:

by Harold Nicolson

This is a study of the 18th century. Nicolson called his book a gallery of portraits, e.g. Saint Simon, elegant, a social climber; the dashing Prince Potemkin; Count Cagliostro, practitioner of black arts; Thomas Paine, inflamer of the masses; Jacques Casanova, lover, pornographer, and con man. This single masterful volume synthesizes, through people and events, the 18th century ideals of reason and liberty, the attack on superstition, tradition and authority that shook the world and produced a revolution in values. New Introduction by Adam Nicolson, Harold Nicolson's grandson.

Genres: History, European History

499 pages, Paperback

First published December 31, 1968

About the author

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.

Reviews

[bobbygw bobbygw · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the best single volume summary of European 18th century cultural, intellectual and political life. Nicolson's own intelligence, graceful writing style, wit, and - I emphasise - deep reading and study of the 18th century - makes this survey a joy to read, from beginning to end. In The Age of Reason, Nicolson not only captures, but also qualifies the intellectual, philosophical, political, religious and cultural events and most significant figures of the 18th century. As a one-volume accomplishment, I know no better, that summarises, captures, describes and questions the glorious, confabulated life of the eighteenth century. There really is no better achievement of narrative, or one more beautifully written, than Nicolson's brilliant, succinct, clever elucidations of the most important figures of the 18th century, including: Voltaire, Frederick the Great, The 'Salons', Horace Walpole, Jonathan Swift, Benjamin Franklin, The Encylopedie (Diderot, et al), Samuel Johnson, Tom Paine, Rousseau and many others, besides.

[Dan · Rating 3 out of 5]

A lively survey of 18th century culture in the form of brief biographies of major figures in British, French and German philosophy, literature, and politics. The underlying theme is that many of these "rational" people and their ideas were quirky and even loony.

[Andrew G · Rating 4 out of 5]

Until I found this book sitting idly on a store shelf, I knew little and cared less about the 18th century. Aside from certain revolutionary-type shenanigans during its later decades here in North America, I had always imagined the 1700’s to be as cold and as formal as a marble floor—almost Roman in its severity. How wrong I was! These wonderfully written essays—begun almost as a lark while their author was enjoying a relaxing sea voyage—revealed that the 1700’s were, if anything, more informal, more vibrant, more optimistic—and very likely more pleasurable—than the 19th century which replaced it.

But first, our author: Harold Nicolson (1886-1968) was born into the English gentry, and spent a great deal of his life alternating between the diplomatic corps, the halls of government, the author’s stool, and the gardens of his cherished country estate, Sissinghurst. He married a fellow author and gardener, the renowned Vita Sackville-West; after their deaths it was revealed the coupe had also shared a preference for homosexual relationships outside the marriage. And yet this arrangement—each knowing the other’s preferences—worked for them. Perhaps in part because they loved each other dearly, each supporting the other through numerous affaires of the heart; perhaps because such openness allowed a degree of freedom denied to a great many closeted married couples of the era. They even had children, one of whom would go on to write a book about his remarkable parents.

But all that is so much background gossip: what concerns us here is the book. It is made up of some 20 essays, most focusing on a particular person (Catherine the Great) or topic (the American Revolution) which Nicolson finds somehow emblematic of the era that birthed them. These are not simple encyclopedia entries; Nicolson sticks to the aspects which interest him, throwing in a great deal of editorial commentary and anecdotal color to liven things up.

His prose is admirably suited to the subject matter: it never draws attention to itself, but possesses that rare power which seems to flourish only rarely in writers (and then typically in English ones) of being able to say exactly what he means, without any need for purple fogs to cover up the awkward bits. It struck me as containing more than a soupçon of Evelyn’s Waugh’s style at its most laundered and bubbly. Thus equipped with his muse, the author sets out to cover the highs and lows of the “Age of Reason”. He writes of Versailles at its dawn and its decay, along with its petty chronicler, the Duc de Saint-Simon. He casts an indulgent glance at James Boswell, takes on Dr. Johnson, and makes sure he has time for Benjamin Franklin.

It should be noted that a majority of the subjects covered are British, but only barely: Russian “Greats” Peter and Catherine are both examined, and a chapter devoted to French salons is fascinating. But it’s Nicolson’s subjective approach to his material that proves so engaging. In an era when historians are taught to leave all but the most objective material on the editing floor, and waste their best zingers on Twitter, it’s fresh air to read an author who doesn’t hesitate to tell you why so-and-so is a jerk. Dr. Sam Johnson, for one, makes quite a poor showing:

“…his prejudice against America and the Americans is not easy to explain. He asserted that it would have been better for the world if Henry the Navigator, Vasco da Gama, and Christopher Columbus had never been born. His pamphlet of 1775 entitled ‘Taxation No Tyranny: An Answer to the Resolutions and Address of the American Congress’ is a lamentable piece of invective. It shocked even [his biographer] Boswell, generally so unquestioning an admirer.”

In a more lighthearted vein, Nicolson admits to finding a great deal of pleasure in studying the life of 18th century writer, art collector, and architect, Horace Walpole. True, he is hardly the cuddliest of subjects, but Nicolson offers up a convincing portrait of the man as a sort of beau ideal for his era, and an antidote to the reflexive jingoism that would spur Britain into attacking its American colonies. Almost incidentally, Nicolson informs us that Walpole wrote a little novel called “The Castle of Otranto”—recognized as the original Gothic novel—which still in print today.

In reviewing the words I have just written, the reader would be pardoned for thinking the book under review was in fact a biography of Horace Walpole, with a cameo by Samuel Johnson thrown in for good measure. If I have dwelt upon them, it is only because Nicolson’s essays, full of of witty quips, provocative opinions, and fine-woven prose, make it so easy for his subjects to take up residence in my mind.

Anyone looking for works in similar vein could certainly do worse than picking up a copy of TH White’s “The Age of Scandal,” an autumnal look back on the glories of 18th century life, as seen from the bleak realities of British post-WWII austerity. For those 18th century devotees of a more scientific bent, I certainly recommend Jenny Uglow’s The Lunar Men, the story of how of amateur scholars like Erasmus Darwin (grandfather of Charles), Josiah Wedgwood, and Matthew Bolton, among others, met and lived and—eventually—changed the course of science and industry as we know it.

[Lauren Albert · Rating 3 out of 5]

A strange, eccentric look at the period (for instance, Nicolson believes that Rousseau was impotent and that therefore the story of his leaving his children at the foundling hospital was made up). The book is made up of profiles of individuals but his choices can be odd.