FOREIGN RELATIONS: Salesman's Call

The arrival in Washington of the Premier of France stirred up more than ordinary interest on the part of the public and the public's servants. As he made his official rounds last week, Pierre Mendès-France was greeted everywhere by swarms of curious, often applauding Washingtonians, eager for a glimpse or a snapshot of the most-discussed, most controversial Frenchman since General Charles de Gaulle. Mendès-France had been characterized variously as a fickle Gallic opportunist and as a pin-striped Savonarola who preached hard truths. Preparing to return to France this week, the brisk little Premier had not settled that argument. Administration officials were impressed—but they still had reservations about Pierre Mendès-France.

Before he arrived, rumors reached Washington that Mendès-France was coming as a sort of Peking Tom, that he would propose U.S. recognition of Red China in exchange for a Red Chinese guarantee to restrain the Viet Minh in tottering Indo-China. In the midst of the rumors. Senator William Knowland interrupted the McCarthy censure debate for a speech on foreign policy (see above). But as matters turned out, there was no cause for alarm: Mendès and Dulles quickly agreed that recognition of Red China was not one of the questions they would discuss.

The inscrutable Premier and his chic wife swam easily through the usual VIP routine of ceremonials, speeches and official wining and dining. At the White House Mendès discussed the Saar agreement with President Eisenhower for nearly an hour, then topped off a steak luncheon with a big glass of milk. At the Senate he was greeted warmly, and at the statue of La Fayette, opposite the White House, he placed a wreath of white chrysanthemums.

While the Premier bustled about Washington, Mme. Mendès-France was busy fulfilling her own social obligations, including tea with Mrs. Eisenhower and a luncheon with Mrs. Dulles. Wherever she went, the Egyptian-born Lily Mendès-France was an instant hit—for her piquant beauty, her gentle good humor, and her dazzling wardrobe of Parisian gowns.

No Flirtation. Mendès-France's most effective public appearance was at a National Press Club luncheon, where he explained France's problems and position in lucid and illuminating fashion. He promised early French ratification of the Paris agreements for a united defense of free Europe, scorned the Soviet proposal for a Pan-European conference and dispelled doubts that he might be thinking of a Franco-Russian flirtation. "As Prime Minister of France," he said, "I am convinced that our number one task is to fight against the deceptive attractions of Communism with the positive weapons of truth, justice and progress."

In the question period that followed his speech. Mendès-France answered the reporters' queries expertly. The final question was a stinger—"Do you think Mr. Dulles would be happier if you were ousted as Premier?"—and Mendès read it with a faint smile. "My suggestion to the author of this very interesting question," he said, "is: the best way to know the answer is to ask Mr. Dulles."