Patriotism at the Jubilee.

Once again the British populace is deriving emotional pleasure from Royal celebrations; many join in the festivities, think perhaps of the Spanish Armada and thrill at the sight of a cordon of bonfires, rejoice in the splendour and harmony of a well-planned procession (though with a joy clearly different from that of our Capping festivities) and revel in newspaper sentiment, feeling that the occasion is not only a triumph for a temperate and successful ruler but also one for themselves on their continued existence as a great nation.

Yet few stop to analyse the mass of conflict and contradiction in the patriotism that is given expression in this way. In the name of patriotism both great and dastardly things have been done. It is at a time rejoicing, like the present particularly appropriate, that we should pause to consider what Edith Cavell meant by her famous phase: "Patriotism is not enough."

We must realise that there are two types of patriot; there is first the jingoistic hysterical flag-waving brand, which in its supreme egoism places itself and country before any considerations of national justice—the type for which Nietzsche spoke: "Some say it is the good cause which halloweth war but I say it is the good war that halloweth any cause." For them our Empire is a place on which the sun never sets, which is inevitably right.

There are the more sober patriots who admit love of country as but one in an intricate maze of conflicting loyalties, who can look for something higher than national supremacy. For them the Empire is a thing of pleasure because it is in some measure an example of what can develop, an example of equal nations co-operating. They are sad to see this co-operation due solely to the common stock of the peoples but they hope that it may extend until differences of race and creed are obliterated. "The little we have done vanishes as mist before the eyes of him who looks forward to what remains."