Amid bombast and ill-will, all the more venomous now that Republicans have their mandate, one of the nation's finest Secretaries of State left office last week. Brilliant enough to create profound policies, efficient enough to extract the best from his department, and bold enough to trust the experience, intellect, and judgment that went into foreign affairs during his regime, Dean Acheson is now reaping the sort of chaff great statesmen usually do in insecure times. When all has blown away, we suspect that Americans will appreciate fully the services of a man so well suited to his era.

His administration had some flaws to be sure, but they were mostly flaws of omission, as when a negative policy was devised for the Far East called Waiting Until The Dust Settles. Criticism of those lapses must be admitted.

Yet, the people who pound their fists and mutter aphorisms about smoke and fire ignore the breadth of Acheson's work. Between his becoming Undersecretary and now, the free world was forced to recognize one of the most unpalatable truths in recent times--the inescapable danger of modern Russia. As the Secretary of State, Acheson was the one primarily responsible for solving the vast problems that appeared during the transition from hope to reality. He had to determine the very premises of policy, as well as the policies themselves.

No such official ever before had to adjust U.S. diplomacy so quickly, to give it a world-wide scope and make it effective against a shrewd and strong enemy, and to do it in the context of present-day technology. His response to that challenge is what makes Acheson a great Secretary.

His duties began with post-war Europe ready to collapse, England definitely broke, the Balkans and Turkey either under Communist domination or in very poor health. They began with the United Nations chained to a procedural requirement--unanimity. They began with backward peoples yearning for national identity, and turning to Communism to find it.

Most important of all, though, was the decision to intervene in Korea. Had the Communist challenge not been faced, had Korea suffered as Manchuria did almost two decades before, the ideal of collective security would surely have died. Investing the Security Council's power in the UN Assembly, where the veto cannot embalm action, allowed the United States to seek and receive the moral support for the Korean venture which only an international assembly can confer. These measures clearly mark the change in attitude from pre-war shilly-shally to today's resolve.

It is dealing in truisms to praise Acheson's recognition that the United States must lead the free world. What is not so clearly understood is the necessity for restraint as well. People who have not seen the dangers in meeting craft and patience with breast-beating and haste, have attacked the Secretary because he forebore a Damn-the-Torpedoes search for quick results. It is part of Acheson's excellence that he took no heed of such attacks.

And note this too: Acheson worked consistently within the traditional ideal of American foreign policy, namely, the deep belief that nations should be left independent, free to choose their own routes to progress. This goal, originally pronounced most explicitly (if a little cynically) in the Open Door policy toward China, has become through Acheson the main weapon against Soviet imperialism. Its moral force and it practical advantages seem lost on those who insist that the free world in exchange for United States money mold itself in the United States' die. They were not lost on Acheson, and thus a proven tradition was maintained.

When one realizes that twelve-year-olds are taught to revere Secretary Seward merely for the purchase of Alaska, even four years of Republican blasts can't explain the current myth that Achcson was inadequate. Perhaps we can thank Acheson himself for this. Now that foreign policy is fair game for partisanship, there must be some reply to criticisms, a job which neither the President nor Acheson could do. Thus the critics have had a monopoly on the public's cars. Acheson no doubt tried, and his performance on television during the Security Council meeting in San Francisco a year or so ago made him temporarily popular. The poor public relations, though, are no less a fault for the Secretary's good intentions.

Public relations don't make Secretaries great; achievements do, and that is where Acheson qualifies. The Republicans may make fewer mistakes, and they may even have more tangible, more dramatically final victories to display four years hence. But, regardless of their fortunes, they begin with an advantage over their predecessors: a solid foundation to build on. For this break, the Republicans can thank the man they have attacked so wildly during the last four years, Dean Acheson.