THE NATIONS: Dawn

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It was 4 a.m. when Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov took off from Paris on his way back to Moscow. In the dawn, he flew across a continent which, for the first time since the dreadful but simple days of war, could see clearly where it stood.

Said Marcel Trarieux, a 36-year-old French veteran who runs a garage near Vincennes:

"The Russians have done a terrible thing. I have always had an open mind about Communism. But Molotov has closed the door to a better living standard for his own people. And any system which cannot stand fair competition from another system is a bad one. Of course, France must go ahead."

Said a Paris seamstress: "The Marshall Plan means one thing to me—tout simplement, a chance to go back to a civilized life. I mean enough bread, a decent house, a decent school for one's children and a chance to feel oneself surrounded by honesty and plenty of smiles."

Said a Brussels streetcar conductor: "The Russians are damned asses."

Empty Comfort. Even leftists had their eyes opened. Wrote France's often pro-Communist Franc-Tireur: "In this sad adventure . . . Russia has wound up creating the very [Western] bloc she wanted to avoid. . . ." Wrote London's Laborite Daily Herald: "Russia's present policy is aimed calmly and deliberately at preventing European unity."

Everywhere, the issues were clarified by the Russian rejection of the "Marshall approach." In London, Richard Grossman, who has opposed Bevin's anti-Russian policy, met with a score of other Labor Party rebels, came out for Bevin's stand. In France, Socialist Premier Paul Ramadier's Cabinet was rescued from a crisis when dissident Socialists, irked by Russia's action, rallied to Ramadier. For the first time at a postwar international conference, France's Foreign Minister Georges Bidault got off the fence, spoke unequivocally on the side of the West.

Molotov had dealt his French comrades, and Communists everywhere, a cruel blow. The Moscow press offered hollow comfort by declaring that the long-expected U.S. depression was at hand, that the Marshall Plan was merely an attempt to capture markets for the U.S. But Izvestia reminded world Communism of the larger, long-range issues. At Monticello last week, Harry Truman had in effect declared that there was an ideological war on between democratic philosophy and its totalitarian enemies. Izvestia belligerently agreed: "The greatest achievement of world culture—Leninism—illuminates our road. ... A fighting, militant ideology, irreconcilable and merciless to our enemies."

Empty Chairs. Nations, like men, had to take sides. By the time Molotov's plane was nearing the Kremlin, Ernie Bevin once more met with Georges Bidault ("that dear little man," in Ernie's words). They issued invitations for a session to all European nations except Russia—though she was free to come in any time she chose—and Spain.