King Snaps

Because the Dominion is at war--she proudly emphasized her Statehood by separately declaring war on Germany--the traditional gold-braided jackets and fluttery plumed hats of Canadian officials on State occasions were omitted last week when Parliament convened in Ottawa. In sombre morning clothes the Governor General entered the oak-paneled, scarlet-trimmed Senate: pippin-cheeked Scottish Novelist Baron Tweedsmuir, gravely embodying (according to law) "the Person of the King in Canada."

Jittery and wrathful appeared the white-thatched leader of His Majesty's Loyal Opposition, Conservative Robert J. Manion, M.D., whose Irish tongue is as sharp as his surgical knives. Doctor Manion was upset because for several days he had tried in vain to get an advance peep at the Speech-from-the-Throne which Lord Tweedsmuir was to read. Ordinarily the Leader of the Opposition is allowed the courtesy of a peek. This time the Speech had been kept secret by order of its author, Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King. That astute and genial fat man obviously had something big up his sleeve.

Prime Minister King, in spite of a Liberal majority in Parliament of 215-to-120, was in no very comfortable position. A week before he had been knifed by a member of his own Party, Ontario's Premier politician, who has something of the late Huey Long's capacity for raising political hell. Mitchell Hepburn rammed through the Ontario Legislature a resolution condemning the Ottawa Government for inefficiency in conducting the war (TIME, Jan. 29). With this Liberal stiletto still quivering between his broad shoulders, Prime Minister King prepared to face the verbal scalpels of Conservative Surgeon Manion.

It was no secret that Conservative strategy would be to heckle the King Cabinet unmercifully week after week in Parliament. Mr. King's bland refusal to take Conservatives into his Cabinet for the duration of the war offered the opportunity. The accident of Mitch Hepburn's choosing this moment to press an intraparty feud with placid Mr. King merely made the attacks of Conservative Manion more embarrassing.

"My ministers...." Clearing his throat with a dry little Scottish cough, Baron Tweedsmuir began droning out a Speech from the Throne which suddenly drew from Parliament a great gasp of surprise. "My ministers are of the opinion," read the Governor General, "that the effective prosecution of the war makes it imperative that those who are charged with the grave responsibility of carrying on the Government of Canada should, in this critical period, be fortified by a direct and unquestioned mandate from the people. My advisers, accordingly, having regard to existing conditions and the stage of the life of the present Parliament, have decided upon an immediate appeal to the country."

This meant that for only the third time in Dominion history a Canadian Prime Minister had decided to play a political card which is quite common in Great Britain -- to disconcert the Opposition by sending Parliament home and ordering a surprise "snap-election" of a new Parliament. In Canada this has been tried only twice, and backfired both times. Thus Mr. King well knew last week the risk he ran, but under the circumstances most Ottawa observers considered his move wiser than to go on struggling for weeks and months with Mitch and Doctor Manion.

The Doctor bounded to his feet in the House of Commons last week bursting with Irish fury. Technically Parliament already stood adjourned and he had no right to speak, but Conservative Manion bellowed: "Does the Prime Minister pro pose to gag this House?"

Unperturbed as usual, Mr. King said there was no objection to a suspension of the rules, and Dr. Manion was thus permitted to speak his mind. He charged the Prime Minister with "trickery" and "unscrupulous politics," accused him of "playing the dictator," masking nefarious moves of his Cabinet behind wartime censorship, finally roared: "This Government never does anything unless it is kicked into it!"

Minister of Justice Ernest Lapointe interjected: "A strong case for an early election!" (Laughter.)

"I am not objecting to an early election," snorted Conservative Manion, "but to the Prime Minister's calling us here simply to have Parliament dissolved. . . . This is a disgraceful sneering at the political traditions of Canada and the empire. Dictatorship! . . . Why should we fight for democracy in Europe and lose it at home?"

Fat Mr. King had sat as impassive as Buddha, but his retort had quiet punch: "Democracy doesn't mean that I am answerable to the leaders of the Opposition --but to the people."

"Best Brains?" So disgruntled members of the House of Commons went home --each will now draw only $25 pay for the session instead of $4,000. The Conservatives seemed to have little enough real ammunition to hurl against the Liberals from election hustings. Dr. Manion professes to smell corruption in Government war contracts made thus far, had been counting heavily on his chances in Parliament to worm facts and figures out of the Cabinet. Normal wartime censorship will now keep a good part of such data dark until after election.

Although the Opposition claims the Government has been backward in preparing Canada for war and equipping her armed forces, neutral Ottawa observers inclined last week to think the opposite has been the case. In many instances Prime Minister King has been forehanded and it is even coming to light that significant Canadian war preparations were made over a year ago--when war was still hypothetical.

After stalking out of Parliament and holding a Party caucus, Conservative Manion announced that if he wins the election he will form as Prime Minister a "truly national Government" into which he will draft "the very best brains available in the country." When reporters told Prime Minister King of this, he cracked: "Ask Dr. Manion whose are the 'best brains' he proposes to draft. The people are entitled to know for whom they are voting."

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