Empire

The world-girdling domain of palm & pine upon which the sun never sets and in which the people call themselves Bahamians or Rhodesians, New Zealanders or Canadians, but are at heart Englishmen first, last and always, is properly and politely called the British Commonwealth of Nations. In wartime, it is the British Empire. No test applied to its unity could be more certain of positive reaction than the test of Hitlerism: autarchic despotism v. the birthright of freeborn Britons. The British Empire's far-flung parts approached that test last week in different ways. Alphabetically:

Australia answered through Prime Minister Robert Gordon Menzies, "If Britain is forced to war, she will not go alone. Australia stands where she stood 25 years ago. . . ."

To World War I, Australia sent 330,000 men, of whom 215,178 were killed or wounded.

The Bahamas. To World War No. I, the Bahamas' chief contributions were fresh water and fruit to roving British warboats. Last week six British warboats lay at the Atlantic end of the Panama Canal waiting to prey on German shipping if the explosion came.

Bermuda's two-house Parliament voted emergency powers, including conscription, to Acting Governor Major Eric Aldhelm Torlogh Dutton. He called to the colors two of the island's three volunteer military units. Two officers commandeered a machine from a private estate and did what no Governor of Bermuda has ever done: toured the island by motor car, inspecting defense posts.

Canada spoke through Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King, who let it be known that when Britain is at war, so is Canada.

Besides manpower (418,000 overseas; 60,383 killed, 164,470 wounded or missing), wheat was Canada's prime ante last time--and again the wheat is ready.

While Prime Minister King met with his Cabinet, plump, black-bearded Percival Price, carilloneur of the Parliament Building's peace tower played, with his assistant Robert Donnell, selections from Wagner, favorite composer of Adolf Hitler. They were practicing for this week's Carilloneurs' Congress in Manhattan. At week's end, Prime Minister King emulated Franklin Roosevelt, sent personal peace pleas to A. Hitler, B. Mussolini, I. Moscicki.

British Guiana did its bit by setting up a censorship of all telegrams, in and out.

India. Summer capital of quasi-independent India's British rulers is storied Simla in the hills north of Delhi. Indian Army reserve officers there made ready to mobilize last week. Throughout, steaming India, air-raid precautions were taken, especially at ports, where oil tanks and factories were camouflaged. Quaintest note of the week was an article in Bernarr Macfadden's U. S. weekly, Liberty, by India's body-mortifying Mahatma Gandhi. Excerpt:

". . . In other words, the true democrat is he who with purely nonviolent means defends his liberty and therefore his country's and ultimately that of the whole of mankind. In the coming test, pacifists have to prove their faith by resolutely refusing to have anything to do with war. . . . Such resistance is a matter for each person to decide for himself and under the guidance of the inner voice, if he recognizes its existence."

Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax was India's kindly Viceroy in Saint Gandhi's brightest days as India's great passive resister. Perhaps in a pinch now, Saint Gandhi would recognize not his inner voice but the voice of Halifax.

New Zealand is the Empire's most Socialist fragment. There last week the only fear was that Neville Chamberlain might again spring an Appeasement. Acting Prime Minister Peter Fraser clarioned: "New Zealand will be found solid and united behind Britain."

South Africa is the Empire's most distant fragment sentimentally. Jan Christiaan Smuts, Minister of Justice and hero of World War I, cautioned South Africans to discuss World War II as little as possible because they "are living far away and are not conversant with the facts." No official word was yet forthcoming from South Africa's boss, Prime Minister Hertzog. Possibly none could be expected until the guns began to shoot.

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