Former Secretary of State Dean Acheson has just spent three days at Eliot House, visiting Master Finley and, not incidentally, speaking at a dinner in the House Tuesday evening. Having recently returned from a European tour "visiting old friends and trying to settle a boundary dispute in the Hague," Mr. Acheson now plans to return to Washington--"where I live, you know."

Mr. Acheson, because he has an uncommon bearing, a moustache, and a non-Kennedy New England accent, has been constantly accused of resembling the Ealing Studios prototype of the British Foreign Officer. He does in fact look like a statesman and is a flawlessly articulate man.

In his undefined capacity as father-in-law to Democratic foreign policy makers, he can be at once a critic of and an adviser to the present Administration. ("Actually I have a lot of fun.")

Mr. Acheson describes his situation of invisible responsibility as "the middle ground," because, although not in an official capacity, "when I talk with Adenauer and De Gaulle I can be responsible--they ask me the questions I know something about and I answer them." "Although," remarked Acheson, "the temptation to tease the Chancellor is very great. I have known Adenauer for twelve years now; he tells me I am not as young as I used to be. I have just seen him; he took me to his beautiful old house on the Rhine which he bought for his retirement in 1937! All his neighbors had gathered on this beautiful April Sunday to applaud him as we stepped out of the car. He gave a little speech introducing me as his dear friend, Mr. Acheson, so they clapped gently for me too."

Acheson recalls that after conferring all day Adenauer took him outside to play boccie, an Italian game played with large balls on a lawn. "He warned me he was going to beat me, although I proceeded to leave him a good deal behind. Then he started making all kinds of fancy shots. I told the Chancellor that he played crooked as hell, to which he answered, 'Here I make the rules!'...He cautioned me not to be frivolous."

Mr. Acheson speaks less warmly about President De Gaulle, perhaps because he has had a good deal to do with Franco-NATO relations in which De Gaulle has often seemed an unmanageable ally. "I have just met him once. He is not an old friend of mine as is the Chancellor. De Gaulle, of course, is a grand gentleman. Very courteous. Very meticulous. When you converse with him, he makes statements rather than conversation. An extremely interesting man.... There is no point whatsoever in arguing with him, although his one great virtue is adjusting himself to facts."

Acheson does, however, have extravagant admiration for what he calls "De Gaulle's touches of real grand style." He remembers an anecdote of Adenauer's: "After the last war there was some question as to whether the Chancellor should go to Paris. Adenauer said it was impossible for the head of a defeated nation to make this gesture. De Gaulle, instead of commanding Adenauer to Paris, wrote a personal note indicating that it would give him the greatest possible pleasure if the Chancellor would come to visit at the General's country place. The Chancellor replied that he would be charmed to accept a gentleman's invitation for the weekend.

When asked whether De Gaulle's strength had increased as a result of the recent crisis in Algeria, Mr. Acheson remarked, "that is like asking whether you are lucky when losing a leg not to lose your life. That kind of argument has always seemed to me specious."

The former Secretary of State has a book coming out on the 24th of this month entitled Sketches from Life, excerpts of which have appeared in Harper's and The Saturday Evening Post. "I can't write anything more--fiction or non-fiction--until my secretary has taken a well-earned rest," he says cheerfully. "My secretary, a marvelous person who edits all my writing, the kind of person who can quote secondary sources, has told me that she needs a year off."

F.D.R., who retired Acheson after a disagreement about the gold situation and later recalled him to service, said of another man who had been vociferously bemoaning exile, "Tell that man to go see Dean Acheson and learn how to retire like a gentleman." Others have suggested that Dean Acheson is one of the last of his breed in the government.