izen, once having
accepted his humble lot, would be in a different position from the
plebeians in an aristocracy. The same subordination would be imposed
upon him, only the ground assigned for his submission would be no longer
self-interest and necessity, but patriotic duty. This patriotism would
have to be of an exalted type. Its end would not be, as in industrial
society, to secure the private interests of each citizen; its end would
be the glory and perfection of the state as imagination or philosophy
might conceive them. This glory and perfection would not be a benefit to
anyone who was not in some degree a philosopher and a poet. They would
seem, then, to be the special interests of an aristocracy, not indeed an
aristocracy of wealth or power, but an aristocracy of noble minds.
Those whose hearts could prize the state's ideal perfection would be
those in whom its benefits would be integrated. And the common citizen
would find in their existence, and in his own participation in their
virtue, the sole justification for his loyalty.

Ideal patriotism is not secured when each man, although without natural
eminence, pursues his private interests. What renders man an imaginative
and moral being is that in society he gives new aims to his life which
could not have existed in solitude: the aims of friendship, religion,
science, and art. All these aims, in a well-knit state, are covered by
the single passion of patriotism; and then a conception of one's
country, its history and mission becomes the touchstone of every ideal
impulse. Timocracy requires this kind of patriotism in everybody; so
that if public duty is not to become a sacrifice imposed on the many for
the sake of the few, as in aristocracy, the reason can only be that the
many covet, appreciate, and appropriate their country's ideal glories,
quite as much as the favoured class ever could in any aristocracy.

[Sidenote: Organisation for ideal ends breeds fanaticism.]

Is this possible? What might happen if the human race were immensely
improved and exalted there is as yet no saying; but experience has given
no example of efficacious devotion to communal ideals except in small
cities, held together by close military and religious bonds and having
no important relations to anything external. Even this antique virtue
was short-lived and sadly thwarted by private and party passion. Where
public spirit has held best, as at Sparta or (to take a very different
type of