If we now turn to consider as a whole the character of this vast Empire, whose principal regions we have been examining, the first thing that must strike us is that, while it is by far the biggest of all the world-dominions which have come into existence in modern times, it is also the most loosely organised of them all. It is rather a partnership of a multitude of states in every grade of civilisation and every stage of development than an organised and consolidated dominion. Five of its chief members are completely self-governing, and share in the common burdens only by their own free will. All the remaining members are organised as distinct units, though subject to the general control of the home government. The resources of each unit are employed exclusively for the development of its own welfare. They pay no tribute; they are not required to provide any soldiers beyond the minimum necessary for their own defence and the maintenance of internal order.

This Empire, in short, is not in any degree organised for military purposes. It is strong for defence so long as it is sure of the command of the sea, since it is open to attack at singularly few points by land. But it is incapable, by its very nature and system of organisation, of threatening the existence of any of its rivals or of making a bid for world-supremacy. For, vast though its population and resources are, they cannot be made available for war except under the impulse of a great enthusiasm simultaneously dominating all its members, like that which has led them all to share in this war; and if its directors were to undertake an aggressive and conquering policy, not only could they not count upon general support, but they would probably bring about the disruption of the Empire.

The life-blood of this Empire is trade; its supreme interest is manifestly peace. The conception of the meaning of empire which is indicated by its history is not a conception of dominion for dominion’s sake, imposed by brute force. On the contrary, it has come to be regarded as a trust, a trust to be administered in the interests of the subjects primarily, and secondarily in the interests of the whole civilised world. That this is not the assertion of a boast or of an unrealised ideal, but of a fact and a practice, is sufficiently demonstrated by two unquestionable facts, to which we have already referred, but which cannot be too often repeated. The first is the fact that the units of this empire are not only free from all tribute in money or men, but are not even required to make any contribution to the upkeep of the fleet, upon which the safety of all depends. The second is the fact that every port and every market in this vast empire, so far as they are under the control of the central government, are thrown open as freely to the citizens of all other States as to its own.

Finally, in this empire there has never been any attempt to impose a uniformity of method or even of laws upon the infinitely various societies which it embraces; it not only permits, it cultivates and admires, varieties of type, and to the maximum practical degree it believes in self-government. It includes among its population representatives of almost every human race and religion, from the Australian Bushman to the subtle and philosophic Brahmin, from the African dwarf to the master of modern industry or the scholar of universities. Almost every form of social organisation known to man is represented in its complex and many-hued fabric. It embodies some of the most democratic communities which the world has known. It finds place for the highly organised caste system by which the teeming millions of India are held together. It preserves the simple tribal organisation of the African clans. To different elements among its subjects this empire appears in different aspects. To the self-governing dominions it is a brotherhood of free nations, co-operating for the defence and diffusion of the ideas and institutions of freedom. To the ancient civilisations of India or Egypt it is a power which, in spite of all its mistakes and limitations, has brought peace instead of turmoil, law instead of arbitrary might, unity instead of chaos, justice instead of oppression, freedom for the development of the capacities and characteristic ideas of their peoples, and the prospect of a steady growth of national unity and political responsibility. To the backward races it has meant the suppression of unending slaughter, the disappearance of slavery, the protection of the rights and usages of primitive and simple folk against reckless exploitation, and the chance of gradual improvement and emancipation from barbarism. But to all alike, to one-quarter of the inhabitants of the globe, it has meant the establishment of the Reign of Law and of the Liberty which can only exist under its shelter. In some degree, though imperfectly as yet, it has realised within its own body all the three great political ideals of the modern world. It has fostered the rise of a sense of nationality in the young communities of the new lands, and in the old and once decaying civilisations of the most ancient historic countries. It has given a freedom of development to self-government in a variety of forms, to which there is no sort of parallel in any other empire that has ever existed. And by linking together so many diverse and contrasted peoples in a common peace it has already realised, for a quarter of the globe, the ideal of internationalism on a scale undreamt of by the most sanguine prophets of Europe.

Long ago, in the crisis of the American Revolution, when the faithfulness of Britain to her tradition of liberty was for an unhappy moment wavering in the balance, the great orator Burke spoke some glowing sentences on the character of the British Empire as he conceived it. They read like a prophetic vision of the Empire of to-day, linked by ties which, in his words, “though light as air, are strong as links of iron,” yet joining in an heroic comradeship to defend the threatened shrine of freedom. “As long as you have the wisdom to keep the sovereign authority of this country as the sanctuary of liberty, the sacred temple consecrated to our common faith, wherever the sons of England worship freedom, they will turn their faces towards you. The more they multiply, the more friends you will have; the more ardently they love liberty, the more perfect will be their obedience. Slavery they can have anywhere. It is a weed that grows in every soil. They may have it from Spain, they may have it from Prussia. But freedom they can have only from you. This is the commodity of price, of which you have the monopoly. Deny them this participation of freedom, and you break that sole bond, which originally made, and must still preserve, the unity of the Empire. Do not dream that your letters of office, and your instructions, and your suspending clauses, are the things that hold together the great contexture of the mysterious whole. These things do not make your government. Dead instruments, passive tools as they are, it is the spirit of the English Constitution that gives all their life and efficacy to them. It is the spirit of the English Constitution which, infused through the mighty mass, pervades, feeds, unites, invigorates, vivifies every part of the Empire, even down to the minutest member.”

The spirit of Burke was wounded in 1775; it is rejoicing to-day.