Forgiveness

I grew up on P.G. Wodehouse. The world of Bertie Wooster and his "gentleman's gentleman" Jeeves gave me enormous pleasure. It was a world far removed from the privations of the industrial North of England, so I suppose it was escapism in a way, but I soon saw for myself that Wodehouse was a master of character and dialogue. He is, for me, the most entertaining author of the century (as well as one of the most prolific). Even today, some of the names remain with me: Blandings Castle, obviously, but who wouldn't remember, with mirthful joy, the adventures of Stilton Cheesewright, Oofy Prosser, Pongo Twistleton-Twistleton and the immortal Gussie Fink-Nottle. "What-Ho, chaps!" and all that.

There's an interesting story in Joseph Connolly's biography of Wodehouse. During the war years, Plum (as Wodehouse was almost universally known) was arrested by the Germans in occupied France. At this time, approaching the age of 60 and still working feverishly, Wodehouse seems to have hardly noticed that there was a war on. In fact, one of his most enduring characteristics was an other-worldliness, bordering on ignorance. Plum didn't take the world terribly seriously. He'd never been good at holding grudges, so didn't do it. The fact that people could actually lob bombs at one another rather horrified him, despite his service during the First World War. At any rate, Wodehouse was arrested as a citizen of a belligerent nation (belligerent to the Nazis, that is), and taken to a variety of rather unpleasant jails. Naturally, whilst in confinement, Plum continued to write, producing a series of novels, and a memoir of his experiences. Unsurprisingly, he titled it How to be an Internee without Previous Training.



A couple of months before his 60th birthday, when he was due to be released, Wodehouse found himself held in a former sanatorium in Berlin. He rather enjoyed being in a padded cell because it gave him the peace and quiet he needed to work. But, for some reason, the Germans decided to release him. Someone remarked that he had written about his experiences, and next thing, the German broadcasting authority was asking him to read excerpts on the radio. Wodehouse agreed. He gave five performances, largely to allay the fears of those of his readers who, hearing of his fate, had sent letters to his prison. Wodehouse thought little of it. His release had not been conditional upon his agreeing to do the broadcasts. No editorial control was exercised over him. He was not paid.

However, in Britain, the newspapers got hold of the news that Wodehouse had given these talks. They noted that this was the same station that had broadcast Lord Haw-Haw's traitorous comments on the war effort. They were incensed. Stories were published about Wodehouse selling his soul to the Germans. Details were invented about Plum being fetted with luxuries and showered with champagne. Questions were asked. Wodehouse was condemned as a traitor. This was gutter journalism at its worst, raising the hackles of the nation with half-truths and innuendo.

Wodehouse had absolutely no idea about the furor his actions had brought on. Later, he admitted that his actions had been foolish. He had been trying to reassure his friends; inadvertently, he had given credibility to a corrupt regime. Perhaps his main crime was that he failed to hate the Germans, as expected. He saw them as human beings simply doing a job, following orders. Wodehouse was probably incapable of hate.

Then, after the war, Wodehouse happened to be in the same city as one of his detractors. This man had come close to destroying Wodehouse's career. The question was raised, "Would Wodehouse like to meet this man?" Perhaps a severe dressing down would be administered. Perhaps Wodehouse would do a Wooster, and call him a "dirty cad." Nothing of the sort happened. Wodehouse met the man for lunch, and apparently enjoyed himself. It was as if he had forgotten the whole thing.



William Sangster once said that the essence of Christian forgiveness is that, eventually, we forget the offense. Perhaps it is the innocents abroad who learn this lesson best.