Monday, May. 07, 1973

Down Under Up There

The atmosphere at Windsor Castle could have been, to say the least, a little strained. As house guests for the night, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip had invited Australia's forceful, independent-minded Prime Minister, Gough Whitlam, and his equally outspoken wife Margaret (TIME, March 26). It was the Queen's first encounter with Whitlam since he was elected last December on a mandate that included snipping some of Australia's ties to both the monarchy and the mother country.

As it turned out, the get-together was as easygoing as a barbecue in the Outback. The hosts graciously did not bring up Whitlam's proposal to replace God Save the Queen as his nation's national anthem. For their part, the guests brought a well-received present, a thick sheepskin rug. As Margaret Whitlam later related, "Prince Philip took off his shoes and trampled about in its depths to get the feel of it."

There were other signs that Whitlam's six-day visit was more amicable than might have been expected. The British press gave the Whitlams a markedly friendly reception: MR. DOWN-UNDER COULD BE TOPS, said a Sunday Telegraph headline. The Dally Mail delved into Aussie slang to describe Mrs. Whitlam as "a 'beaut sheila' indeed,"--meaning, roughly, a swell dame. On the government's part, Prime Minister Edward Heath thoughtfully invited the four Whitlam children, aged 19 to 29, who had gathered in London for a family reunion, to join their parents at a state dinner at 10 Downing Street. Whitlam scored points at the dinner by rising and, after a suitable pause for effect, proposing the traditional toast to the Queen.

On a relatively minor but symbolic matter of protocol, Whitlam apparently got Elizabeth to agree that henceforth the credentials of Australian ambassadors need not be sent halfway around the world for her signature but can be signed in Canberra by her Governor General. The Prime Minister also got from Whitehall an agreement in principle that Australia's own High Court should replace Britain's Privy Council as the last court of appeal for Australian litigants. There was somewhat less harmony on a more substantive issue --namely, that Britain should join Australia and New Zealand in opposing further French nuclear tests in the South Pacific. Foreign Minister Sir Alec Douglas-Home merely promised "careful study" of the possible dangers.

Whitlam took it in stride. Asked at a press conference how he would rate Sir Alec's response on a scale of "bored to pusillanimous," Whitlam replied: "I wouldn't use either of those words. He was courteous and helpful." Whitlam's only truly tart words in London, in fact, were directed at the French, who insist that their tests are not nearly as dangerous as the Australians fear. "If there is nothing wrong with the tests," he said, "then why don't the French save some money and hold them in Corsica?"

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