Heretic at the Palace

Marshal Tito's relations with royalty, never exactly chummy, came to a blunt and seemingly final halt in 1945, when he told young King Peter, in effect, to stay the blazes out of Yugoslavia or he would chop his royal head off. But last week the marshal slipped into his blue and scarlet commander in chief's uniform, stepped into a cocoon of policemen, Scotland Yard agents and Yugoslav bodyguards, and took himself off to Buckingham Palace for lunch with King Peter's distant cousin, Her Majesty Elizabeth II.

For five dashing, bulletproofed days, the Communist dictator of Yugoslavia was the guest of anti-Communist Britain, the first Red chief of state ever to visit the country. For both guest and hosts, it was a visit not of sentiment but of self-interest. The British hoped to exploit Tito's break from Moscow and to fix him solidly in the anteroom of the Western alliance. Tito was out to get political and economic value for his heresy against Moscow.

Boos & Bobbies. Hale, hearty and outfitted with more changes of costume than Goring, the marshal was treated to all the big architectural, historical and political sights of London. He saw the Magna Carta (without comment), Shakespeare's signature and other treasures in the British Museum, visited the Tower, had a good look at Windsor Castle, took in Swan Lake at the Royal Opera House and presented roses and gladioli to Ballerina Moira Shearer. When they were lucky enough to catch him on one of his unannounced rounds and to see past the screen of plainclothesmen, bobbies and motorcycle cops that surrounded him, Britons also got a good look at Tito. There were scattered boos from Catholics irate over Belgrade's persistent mistreatment of the church, but mostly the London crowds were curious, polite and unenthusiastic.

At Duxford R.A.F. field near Cambridge, the R.A.F. brass gathered to show off Britain's jet air power. Noting cloud formations (at 1,200 ft.) in the sky, Tito suggested that the demonstration be canceled, but his hosts insisted. Minutes later two Meteor Mark 8s collided during an acrobatic show and crashed, killing both pilots, while Tito looked on in horror. (On his way to England, four other Britons had been killed during a 60-plane "flyover" staged at Gibraltar.) Tito, visibly upset, asked the British to cancel the rest of the show. They refused. But before it was over, Tito walked off, and his hosts had to follow.

Books & Dogs. Near the end of his visit, Tito got down to business at No. 10 Downing Street with Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden. The man from Belgrade wanted a Yugoslav-British treaty pledging friendship or mutual assistance in case of aggression. Winston Churchill smoothly explained that Britain could not take such a step until Tito had settled his bad relations with Italy (over Trieste). But the two leaders had no trouble striking a strong verbal contract.

"The two governments . . ." said they in a joint communique, "were in full agreement that, in the event of aggression in Europe, the resulting conflict could hardly remain local in character." There was firm talk of British military aid for Belgrade, and Tito volunteered a broad hint that he would try to patch up the festering relations between his regime and the Catholic Church.

At week's end Tito, with a broad smile, a set of English books and two expensive English setters, set sail for home. "All that we hoped for was attained," said he. Replied Anthony Eden, with a goodbye wave: "It has all gone very well."

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