Collected Letters Volume Two: Books, Broadcasts and War, 1931–1949. Walter Hooper

mentioned in his letter to Griffiths of 29 April the impending danger of war; in the next two he explores his increasing and justified concern. For this was the time of the Munich crisis. In March 1938 Germany had invaded Austria. By the end of May, encouraged by the lack of reaction to the invasion on the part of Britain and France, Hitler began to threaten Czechoslovakia, and especially the Sudetenland-a tiny section of the Czech Republic that lay on the border of Germany.

       In June 1938 Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister, said ‘off the record’ that Britain favoured turning over the Sudetenland to Germany ‘in the interest of peace’. He sent a representative to Czechoslovakia to mediate between that country and the Sudeten Germans. Finally, on 5 September, the Czech president agreed to accept the German demands. That was not at all what Hitler wanted, and he used his own propaganda machine to cause outbreaks of fighting in the Sudetenland. This, in turn, led Czechoslovakia to declare martial law.

       Britain and its allies were very keen to avoid war, and on 29 September 1938 representatives from Germany, England, France and Italy met in Munich to decide Czechoslovakia’s fate. An agreement was signed stating that Germany would take over the Sudetenland. On 1 October German troops began occupying the region. After that similar settlements were made over Hungary and Poland. Hitler had succeeded and by 15 March 1939 he was to occupy the whole of Czechoslovakia.

       TO OWEN BARFIELD (W):

      Magdalen College

      Oxford

      Sept 12th 1938

      My dear Barfield

What awful quantities of this sort of thing seem necessary to break us in, or, more correctly, to break us off. One thinks one has made some progress towards detachment, some

,²⁵ and begin[s] to realise, and to acquiesce in, the rightly precarious hold we have on all our natural loves, interests, and comforts: then when they are really shaken, at the very first breath of that wind, it turns out to have been all a sham, a field-day, blank cartridges.

This is how I was thinking that night, about the war danger. I had so often told myself that my friends and books and even brains were not given me to keep: that I must teach myself at bottom to care for something else more (and also of course to care for them more but in a different way) and I was horrified to find how cold the idea of really losing them struck. An awful symptom is that part of oneself still regards troubles as ‘interruptions’ as if (ludicrous idea) the happy bustle of ones personal interests was our real

,²⁶ instead of the opposite.

      I did in the end see (I dare not say ‘feel’) that since nothing but these forcible shakings will cure us of our worldliness, we have at bottom reason to be thankful for them. We force God to surgical treatment: we won’t (mentally) diet.

      This morning comes your letter, and I know you at least (I cd. hardly depend on any one else for so much) will not think me heartless for connecting it in this way with what I was already thinking, for the subjects really flowed together—indeed they are the same subject.

      Well, well: you know all I am thinking about at least as well as I do. As you said in that essay of yours one cannot in the Simon of Cyrene moment see the cross from the Joseph of Arimathea point of view, but one can remember that the other side is real: hence that apparently naked will, stripped of its emotional motives, which, on your view, is alone free.

I have a lot more to say on this (I’ve just read the Theologia Germanica)²⁷ when we meet. That is, if we meet, for of course our whole joint world may be blown up before the end of the week. I can’t feel in my bones that it will, but my bones know dam’ all about it. If we are separated, God bless you, and thanks for a hundred good things I owe to you, more than I can count or weigh. In some ways we’ve had a corking time these 20 years.

Be thankful you have nothing to reproach yourself about in your relations with your father (I had lots) and that it is not some disease. The horror of a stroke must be felt almost entirely by the spectators.²⁸

      I’ll fix with Cecil.

      Yours

      C. S. Lewis

      Out of the Silent Planet was published by John Lane, the Bodley Head on 23 September 1938.

       TO DOM BEDE GRIFFITHS (W):

      Magdalen College

      Oxford

      Oct 5th 1938

      Dear Dom Bede

I am afraid I have forgotten most of the things I said in my last letter. The opinion of my friend about the end of life was not, I should suppose, quoted with any approval of mine. As to whether reason can rigorously prove God and immortality, what is one to say? I do not remember to have seen a proof that appeared to me absolutely compelling, but that may be only my reason or the writer’s reason: At any rate it is obvious that pure reason, in human beings, is very often in fact not convinced. I shd. suppose that the truths imbedded in Paganism owe at least as much to tradition and divine guidance as to ratiocination. About war—I have always believed that it is lawful for a Christian to bear arms in war when commanded by constituted authority unless he has very good reason (which a private person rarely has) for believing the war to be unjust. I base this 1. On the fact that Our Lord does not appear to have regarded the Roman soldiers as ex officio sinners. 2. On the fact that the Baptist told soldiers not to leave the army, but to be good soldiers.²⁹. On the opinion of St Augustine (somewhere in De Civitate).³⁰ 4. On the general agreement of all Christian communities except a few sects—who generally combine pacifism with other odd opinions. I take the dicta in the Sermon on the Mount to be prohibitions of revenge, not as a counsel of perfection but as absolutely binding on all Christians.³¹ But I do not think punishment inflicted by lawful authorities for the right motives is revenge: still less, violent action in the defence of innocent people. I cannot believe the knight errant idea to be sinful. Even in the very act of fighting I think charity (to the enemy) is not more endangered than in many necessary acts wh. we all admit to be lawful.³²

On reunion I have no contribution to make: it is a matter quite above my sphere.³³

      I was terrified to find how terrified I was by the crisis. Pray for me for courage.

      Yours

      C. S. Lewis

TO MRS STUART MOORE (EVELYN UNDERHILL) (M):³⁴

      As from Magdalen College,

      Oxford.

      Oct 29th 1938

      Dear Madam

      Your letter is one of the most surprising and, in a way, alarming honours I have ever had. I have not been for very long a believer and have hitherto regarded the great mystical writers as a man in the foothills regards the glaciers and precipices: to find myself noticed from regions which I scarcely feel qualified to notice is really quite overwhelming. In trying to thank you, I find myself regretting that we have given such an ugly meaning to the word ‘Condescension’