Possession of the Channel Islands.
England not to be readily Overcome.
Now let us consider the question from the French side. The English hold several islands which are very near to the French shore, and the French are vexed by England’s possession of these islands. It is not so galling a wound to French pride as the English possession of Gibraltar is to the pride of Spain, still it is a perpetual little sore that irritates Frenchmen when they think of it. They do not trouble their minds about ancient historical considerations. The Queen, for them, is not the Duchess of Normandy, but the head of the rival Power, and they do not like to see this Power holding insular fortresses like unsinkable warships anchored close to their own shores. Well, this being their state of mind, why do they not annex the Channel Islands and reverse the situation by occupying the Isle of Wight? The answer is that the enterprise is felt to be too formidable. To get Sark it would be necessary to vanquish England, and France does not feel sure of being able to accomplish that.
The Modern Carthage.
Conquest difficult in both Cases.
During the long and bloody rivalry of these two countries in the past it is a wonder that neither of them ever managed to murder the other. The will was certainly not wanting; there was no pity, but it is not easy to murder a great nation. The modern Carthage was to have been effaced, yet she is not effaced. Even in the present day each is unable to annihilate her neighbour. Try to imagine a French General surrounding London with his troops; the idea is inconceivable, one cannot see how he is to get them there. And now try to imagine an English army, without continental allies, surrounding Paris with a ring of iron as the Germans did; this idea is as inconceivable as the other; one cannot see how the English army is to reach Paris. Could it land? And if it landed, could it get as far as Amiens?
That National Jealousy may be Reasonable.
Jealousy in International Criticisms.
I cannot conclude this chapter without frankly admitting that national jealousy is reasonable so long as it confines itself to the truth. It is quite reasonable that the French should want to push the English out of Canada and Egypt, and that the English should wish to sink the French fleet. What is unreasonable is for two peoples to depreciate each other in books and newspapers, and blacken each other’s private characters because both are formidable in a military or a naval sense. How is it that we hear so much of French immorality, and nothing, or next to nothing, of Italian? How is it that, in France, we have heard so much of English cruelty and barbarity, whilst the accounts of Turkish cruelty were received with the smile of incredulity or the shrug of indifference? Why this so tender French sympathy for the Irish, exaggerating all their woes? Why this wonderful Protestant sympathy in England for the unauthorised religious orders in France? How does it happen that everything which seems to tell against one of the two countries is received with instant credence in the other? The answer to all these questions may be found in the two words at the head of the present chapter.