to the effect on the England of that time of the Alliance with Germany.
With that man I shall deal in the chapter that follows.



V--_The Lost England_


Telling the truth about Ireland is not very pleasant to a patriotic
Englishman; but it is very patriotic. It is the truth and nothing but
the truth which I have but touched on in the last chapter. Several
times, and especially at the beginning of this war, we narrowly escaped
ruin because we neglected that truth, and would insist on treating our
crimes of the '98 and after as very distant; while in Irish feeling, and
in fact, they are very near. Repentance of this remote sort is not at
all appropriate to the case, and will not do. It may be a good thing to
forget and forgive; but it is altogether too easy a trick to forget and
be forgiven.

The truth about Ireland is simply this: that the relations between
England and Ireland are the relations between two men who have to travel
together, one of whom tried to stab the other at the last stopping-place
or to poison the other at the last inn. Conversation may be courteous,
but it will be occasionally forced. The topic of attempted murder, its
examples in history and fiction, may be tactfully avoided in the
sallies; but it will be occasionally present in the thoughts. Silences,
not devoid of strain, will fall from time to time. The partially
murdered person may even think an assault unlikely to recur; but it is
asking too much, perhaps, to expect him to find it impossible to
imagine. And even if, as God grant, the predominant partner is really