bout de papier, Vol. 3, No. 1 (1985) — March 1985 // Mars 1985, p. 20
None of the homework that my wife Crenia and I did in anticipation of our posting to Ireland in any way prepared us for what was to happen one night at a black tie dinner at the Official Residence of the French Ambassador in Dublin back in 1959.
It was in the late autumn of that year when Jack Lynch was appointed Minister of Industry and Commerce in the Irish Cabinet — he was later to become Prime Minister of Ireland – that I began to realize that we had a strong facial resemblance. In addition, we were of approximately the same build, had receding hairlines and were inveterate pipe smokers. I was serving as Counsellor
– Number Two — at our Embassy in Dublin at the time. Mr. Lynch had been attracting more and more public attention and seemed destined to be a rising star in the governing Fianna Fail Party. As for me, I noticed that at Dublin Castle and at public functions elsewhere in the Irish capital, news photographers occasionally snapped me, in mistake for the popular Cabinet Minister. For example, one night at a gala performance of the visiting Royal Ballet, I was once more startled when, descending the grand staircase at intermission, photographers called out to me with “Hold it a minute, Mr. Lynch”. It was becoming a habit. One day when my Ambassador was absent from Ireland and I was serving as Chargé d’Affaires, a formidable and impeccably-crafted invitation card from the French Ambassador was delivered by chauffeur to our home, inviting the Chargé d’Affaires of Canada and Mrs. Freifeld to a black tie dinner the following week “in honour of the newly-appointed Irish Minister of Industry and Commerce and Mrs. Jack Lynch” The Ambassador, M. Le Comte de Blesson, was a member of the French aristocracy and he was a tall, austere, forbidding, career diplomat who, by virtue of his length of service as Ambassador in Dublin, was also Dean of the Diplomatic Corps. He was noted for the fastidiousness and meticulousness of his entertaining no less than for the culinary accomplishments of his French chef. An invitation to dine at the French Embassy Residence was cherished by Dubliners and, indeed, by members of our small local diplomatic community.
Like good punctual Canadians, and mindful that I was not yet of ambassadorial rank as the other guests would doubtless be, Crenia and I arrived promptly at the French Embassy Residence just a few moment after the designated hour of 7:00 p.m. From the cars outside, we could see that two or three couples must already have arrived and, when the butler opened the door for us, we could see M. de Blesson busy chatting with them.
To our surprise, however, on seeing us in the doorway, the Ambassador dropped his guests like hotcakes, coming to the door to greet us effusively, escort us inside and present us to the others as his guests of honour for the evening – the newly-appointed Irish Minister of Industry and Commerce and Mrs. Jack Lynch!
The other guests knew who we were, or certainly that we were not Mr. and Mrs. Jack Lynch. But they, like ourselves, must have been too surprised and embarrassed to react other than passively to what was presumably only a temporary aberration.
When more guests arrived at the door, the Ambassador left it to his butler to bring them in, and he continued to hover around us. And, to our growing consternation, when he got around to presenting the newcomers to us, he continued to call us the Minister of Industry and Commerce and Mrs. Lynch.
The front door bell rang once more and – to our intense relief — in came the real Irish Minister of Industry and Commerce and the real Mrs. Jack Lynch. Their appearance at long last would surely, we thought, end the confusion. But, to our astonishment and dismay, the Ambassador presented them to us as the Chargé d’Affaires of Canada and Mrs. Freifeld! Again, it must have been the element of surprise and embarrassment that deterred the Lynches, as well as ourselves, from seeking to correct our host. More cocktails and canapés were passed around.
We found it difficult to believe that our host’s abberation could continue any longer — but it did. It then began to dawn on Crenia – looking at the clock and in near shock at the thought that dinner must be only a few moments away – that the Ambassador would be escorting her into the dining room and seating her on his right and that the Ambassadress would expect to find me on her right — place cards and plan de table notwithstanding. The Lynches, if this nonsense continued, would doubtless find themselves being led to some remote part of the 24-place table befitting a mere Canadian Chargé.
Appalled at such a prospect and feeling an unease bordering on panic, Crenia decided that something drastic had to be done – and done fast.
Looking around the salon which by now was filled with guests with cocktails in hand, she noticed that our host had gone over to a quiet corner and was huddled in conversation with the senior Irish diplomatic official present, Jack Malloy, who at that time was Assistant Undersecretary at the Irish Foreign Office and soon to be appointed Ambassador to the Court of St. James.
Working her way over to their quiet corner, she inserted herself athwart the Ambassador and Mr. Molloy and, at the first pause in their conversation and in a complete non-sequitur, broke right in with: “You know, at home in Canada, we must be having snow already at this time of year.”
At this surprising interruption, Ambassador de Blesson turned to her with an odd look coming over his eyes, and she plunged bravely on: “In my country, in our part of Canada, winter starts early. Back home in Ottawa, there must be snow on the ground already.”
The odd look in the Ambassador’s eyes turned into a frown, then into a deep scowl, and he didn’t say a word. Without explanation, he detached himself from Jack Molloy and Crenia and, when dinner was announced a few moments later, with all graciousness and as though nothing had happened, he took Mrs. Lynch’s arm and escorted her to her place at the table, the chair on his right. By this time Mme. de Blesso had emerged from her kitchen, and quite unaware of what had been going on, went down to her end of the table escorted by the newly-appointed Irish Minister of Industry and Commerce, who was duly seated on her right.
As for the Canadian Chargé d’Affaires and his wife, they were seated, as planned, in the bleachers – diplomatically speaking – and they were never invited back to the French Embassy, not even for the dragnet reception on Quatorze Juillet.
To this day I don’t know whether my double, who soon became Taoiseach – Prime Minister – of Ireland, ever found out what or who was causing the confusion at that black tie dinner in his honour at the Official Residence of the Ambassador Plenipotentiary and Extrordinary of France and Doyen du Corps Diplomatique in convivial Dublin back in 1959.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 3, No. 1 (1985) — March 1985 // Mars 1985, p. 20. Read the rest of this issue →
