Company Coming

"Now you simply must come and visit us next summer."

These are words which many an impulsive householder off on vacation has lived to regret. Ever since Sir Anthony Eden, in the rosy aftermath of the Summit Conference at Geneva last July, issued such an invitation to Soviet Bigwigs Khrushchev and Bulganin, the chill British air has been filled with regrets and forebodings. A powerful faction in the Tory Party, led by Lord Salisbury, Eden's own longtime guide and mentor, was against the idea almost from the beginning. Others joined in after Khrush and Bulgy made their circus tour of India and Burma, spraying gratuitous insults at Britain. Snapped that professional angry man Lord Vansittart, longtime head of Britain's Foreign Service: "May I repeat for the ninth time what I said so often in Hitler's day--those who ask to be deceived must not grumble if they are gratified." There was even talk of canceling the invitation, but cooler heads persuaded everyone that if Whitehall really put its talents to being coolly cordial, even old : Siberia hands"would get the idea.

Eden himself hankered for a chance to practice his favorite form of democracy, frank man-to-man chats with one's adversaries, free from publicity and protocol. He wanted to remind K. & B. that Middle East oil is now Britain's lifeline, and a war there could not be localized--because 'Britain would enter "it. "He wanted'-to as sure them that the Western alliance can not be splintered, and to suggest that the true test of Soviet eagerness for coexistence would be its willingness to abandon subversion abroad. He had filled much of K. & B.'s schedule with opportunity for such cozy seminars. Though they would also have a chance to see the ballet, a few old castles and a factory or two. great care was being taken that their audience with the Queen should not be photographed, lest the Russians later misuse the pictures in colonial Africa.

In February Khrushchev and Bulganin reluctantly agreed to this tight little schedule, but changed their minds after seeing how successful pudgy Georgy Malenkov was on his recent glad-hand tour of Britain. Last week from Moscow the official Russian news agency Tass angrily expressed dissatisfaction: "The Soviet leaders lay great significance on their forthcoming talks with leaders of the British Government . . . But at the same time they would greatly like to meet the ordinary people working in factories and other enterprises . . . Apparently there are some forces in Britain who do not wish to permit wider contacts between Soviet leaders and the British population."

"Rather unusual sort of way to do business," replied Anthony Eden in the House of Commons--but he refused to change his plans. For a moment the Russians themselves thought of calling off the visit. Then they thought better of it: after all, they would be able to find plenty of chances to crash through to the public.

As K. & B. set forth from Kaliningrad (nee Konigsberg) on the cruiser Ordzhonikidze, Scotland Yard completed its survey of more than 200 Russian and satellite exile groups, to make sure that none of their more ardent spirits would have a chance to take a potshot at the visitors.

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