I feel this was a somewhat prejudiced opinion, fuelled no doubt by the author’s experience in the salt mines during the persecution of one of the Roman Emperors, probably Domitian. Finally we return to sanity with Augustine. In his City of God, he sees the Church sitting beside the City of Rome, nurturing it, inspiring it, occasionally reproving it, but essentially sympathetic to its struggle to maintain some sort of order in the midst of the chaos all around it. I agree with Augustine.
So to return to my question. What was the situation in which I found myself, when I had my relevant experience? The Second World War had ended some years before; but memories were still vivid, and Germany was still the enemy. Of course I saw that after a terrible war, it was desirable and indeed necessary that there should be a reconciliation of some sort between the countries that had been on opposite sides in the conflict. One cannot continue the hatred that War engenders indefinitely. But the problem only becomes practical, and therefore real, when the love for a person who was on the other side in the conflict, becomes superimposed on the continuing hatred of the society from which she comes. What is one supposed to do? How does one cope with the Romeo and Juliet situation? If one gives way to physical and emotional passion, both you and she will be engulfed by the cold antipathy of the two societies. If one does not dare to express one’s love, one plays the coward; and the shame of the betrayal will remain as a lifelong companion. At least it will, if one is any sort of a man. The decision would be a difficult one if only one’s own emotions were involved; it becomes doubly difficult if hers are too, if the love is mutual. Having had enough sense to give myself time to think, I attempted to transcend the horrid dichotomy, by invoking the Divine creativeness; by seeking to recreate between her soul and mine the same relationship or indwelling that is supposed to exist between God and the soul. That at least could end in nothing worse than heartbreak; it would not end in catastrophe or dishonour. In my book I make it plain that this was my decision. I say so in the Introduction, in Chapter 1 which I call the Prelude, and at the end of Part II. Even if I had succeeded in effecting a reconciliation, it was a situation where there were still going to be conflicting loyalties; but I hoped there would be no conflict which God did not share. It had the advantage that I might hope to be able to put into practice one set of standards, and not two; I would not be faced by divided loyalty.
But most certainly I did not seek to escape from the conflict of duties. I sought to resolve them in a greater whole. Of course I accepted in practice the possibility, or as it seemed to me at the time the apparent inevitability, of failure. And the only readjustment I had to make when it became obvious that I had failed, was to limit the ambitions of my creativeness in future, and endeavour to heal a few of the misunderstandings and some of the pain with a little kindness! Maybe my attempt was misconceived; but I hope anyone who is impertinent enough to say so, will be able to suggest something better; and if he cannot do that, will keep his mouth firmly shut. Of course I saw our love-affair as symbolizing the reconciliation of England and Germany after the War. But she declined; so that was that.
The embarrassing choice for me was not directly between public and private duty; but rather between a love which I could not deny except at the price of dishonesty or heartlessness, and the recognition that by the standards of prudence, good sense, and social convenience, it was a forlorn love, because national hatreds were still too fierce, and that convention would have condemned it as hopelessly unsuitable.
What was I to do? It is difficult to imagine a more searching decision. It was to search and find out what I was made of; and search out too the worth of any systems of belief and prejudice in my mind. As I have said, my decision was to attempt to create between us a relationship or indwelling which mirrored the indwelling that is supposed to exist between God and the soul. In this way I hoped to avoid any divided loyalty, by honouring one set of standards, and not two; but this almost inevitably involved rejection.