"By the way" continued the French diplomat "in October 1948 your Ambassador Soheily came to see me at the Asia Department to complain and remind me of the distressing fact that there were no ministers, not even a deputy Foreign Minister at the Iranian Embassy's reception in honor of the birthday of the Sovereign. He also said that we did not provide him a fitting seat at the annual gala of the Paris Opera. But look now, our Prime Minister, our top ministers and industrialists rush and fly to salute and present their respects to His Majesty, whether in St. Moritz or Teheran!"
A diplomat has to be invariably prudent, but the sarcasm I had discerned in the adding rice to the menu bit did not agree with me. At times, and specially with the French, one has to reciprocate, they will appreciate you all the more. "Are you sure that it is only for our long-standing mutual affinities and not for the sweet perfume of oil and new large contracts that these gentlemen rush to see the Shah?" I retorted. Aware that oil and morality do not mix, the Frenchman had a faint smile.
It was an endless feast in the spacious "Salle des Miroirs", and we conversed some more on the time-honored and exquisite relationship between France and Iran. Louis the XIV, le Roi Soleil as they called him had received in 1715 and in unparalleled splendor the eccentric Persian Ambassador Mohammad Reza Beg sent by our Safavid monarch. He had become the hit of Paris, in different times, but at the same regal site. But then, there had been some clouds in our relations too. Like when Napoleon failed to honor the Finkenstein Treaty to assist Iran against the Russians during the era of Fath-Ali-Shah Qajar. Who can disregard that? It crushed an ancestor, Prince Abbas Mirza Qajar who was on an exhausting campaign against the Russians in Georgia. Our relations with France were at their apex when De Gaulle, the praised French President visited Iran. During his official tour to Iran, he visited Persepolis. When an official guide began to explain the grandeur of those times, De Gaulle said "stop it right there, I'll be the narrator!" He went on to describe dramatically and to perfection the immense splendor of Iran, its history, its monuments and its past has never hear before. The crowd of officials burst into applauses. Indeed a great man he was and friend of Iran too...
I took this photo of cousin Amir Abbas Hoveyda during his official
visit to France. He is seen sitting with Mrs. Chirac. Prime Minister
Jacques Chirac, today President of France and is standing with my sister
Fatmeh Sepahbody at his right and my cousin Fereshteh Razavi, now a
prominent doctor at a Paris hospital. They were watching a football
match. Our relations were at their apex and the "Marseillaise
anthem"
is in order. Hoveyda was a great friend of France and we truly had a family
reunion.
To make a long story short, the French diplomat recollected the year when Iran broke relations with France over a CAT. Alas, that incident broke out when my father, Anoshiravan Sepahbody, was Ambassador to France in 1938. A similar rupture of diplomatic ties had also occurred with the United States at more or less the same epoch, this time over a DOG!
According to diplomatic immunity law books and other annals, it seems that the chauffeur of the Iranian envoy in Washington, had somehow exceeded the legal speed limit. The car was stopped by cops on Harleys who alike our rishous hezbollahis or barbudos, obviously did not realize what the word diplomatic immunity meant or maybe could not care less. When the luckless Ambassador accompanied by his wife lowered the car's window to protest, his German hound snapped the cop's extended hand. Their excellencies were taken manu militari into custody and a diplomatic row ensued. Ambiguous excuses from the U.S. State Department did not help the situation, they were not considered appropriate. Relations with the US were severed, ah we irritable Persians!
Both these incidents took place during the stern reign of Reza Shah a reformist and modernist sovereign indeed, but also much feared for his somber moods and lack of humor. Both these events were of course not comparable to the major split with the U.S. following the 1980 hostage crisis. Now, not even the Caspian Sea oil riches or Houdini in person can easily patch these shattered relations, at least not in the immediate future.
"In diplomacy," said the French official, "it is fundamental to take protests with utter tact and try to appease things by displaying extreme comprehension and understanding. In fact, when you dear father was for the first time envoy extraordinary and plenipotentiary to France, there was a distressing event which is still present in the memory of all those working in our political department. I was then a junior assistant at the ministry. Rather foolishly, a prewar French satyrical journal, L'Os à Moëlle, had published a caricature based on the word "Shah." I still recollect the cartoon: It was an illustration of a royal visit to Paris Longchamp race-track. In the official carriage pulled by several horses, quite visibly was a crowned CAT, relaxing in full majesty. Under the vexing cartoon was the caption: "Nous attendons la visite du Chat de Perse" in other words: "We are awaiting the visit of the Shah of Persia."
"Chat" means cat in French. It is pronounced the same way as Shah. "The father of your August Sovereign," the French diplomat continued, "obviously had a subscription to "L'Argus de la Presse" a major press clipping service, and this unfortunate drawing did not escape him." A highly outraged Reza Shah, believing that he been slighted, demanded immediate excuses from a country whose press is totally free. Clearly, the French government could not acquiesce and unfortunately vague excuses from the Quai d' Orsay (1) were not acceptable to the proud and emotional Persians.
"Well" I said, "our relations were indeed broken for a few months. But probably what you may not know, is that the day we departed Paris for Iran, your distressed Minister of Foreign Affairs came in person to the railway station. He offered my mother a large bouquet of red roses and my father a rather small package with the express instruction not to open it before crossing the French border."
What was in it, a bomb? pressed on the inquisitive French diplomat.
"You will never guess it, vous donnez votre langue au chat?" I asked. - A French expression relating to curiosity which translates in English as do you give your tongue to the cat?
"Yes indeed," he urged
"It was" said I, "a white marble statuette of a gorgeous sleeping cat and underneath it the following words were engraved "Le Fautif," meaning "The Culprit" in French. Undeniably discreet but witty French humour relating to an irksome situation. For many long years this prized cat statuette adorned the mantle of my father's dining room fireplace." The story did have a happy ending though and following a stay of several months in Teheran we returned to Paris. Alas, when the Germans invaded France, we had to flee Paris for Vichy, a tranquil spa town, which had become the provisional capital of France. In 1941, my father got a new assignment as Ambassador to Turkey. Upon embarking on this new assignment, he went to take leave of Maréchal Pétain, the new leader of France who had just met Hitler in Germany. Here is what Pétain told my father:
"Mr. Sepahbody, you are the fortunate envoy of the land of roses and nightingales
and I wish you and your beautiful country and people much happiness. I wish you always
roses without thorns, but be careful for you have troublesome neighbors. Look at our poor
France, he said. "I saw Hitler yesterday! For an old French soldier like me, I would
have preferred to die rather than to stand in front of this mountain of pride..."
Then, all of a sudden and to the deep emotion of my father, the great marshall of France,
the triumphant victor of the Verdun battle during World War I, began to cry as a child! (2) ... continued page 3
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Notes:
1 - Name given to the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs
2 - From the book Pétain et la France, La Seconde Guerre Mondiale, by French historian
Raymond Tournoux - Published by les Éditions PLON, Paris. Conversations of the author
with Anoshiravan Sepahbody, page 180 -181.