to go as soon as the weather cleared. My offer to assist her with transport was rejected. She would not tell me where she was bound. Fear was written all over the poor creature. She was a child made woman before her time.
The following morning the weather cleared. I gave her some provisions and she went on her way. My quarters had acted as a house of shells and I was thankful I had preserved a life.
***
When Gearóid MacSuibhne was sentenced to death by Franco in 1938, my mother wrote to Patrick and asked him if he could do anything on Gearóid’s behalf. Patrick had no happy memories of MacSuibhne, but he was an Irishman in danger abroad, and Foley was the diplomat. Besides, de Valera had also sent official instructions that every diplomatic effort should be made to intervene if the lives of any of his former IRA colleagues were in jeopardy.
What is a diplomat? He is one who lies for his country. He is a weaver of words, a splitter of hairs, a surgeon of logic. Irish republicans argued he is a superfluity – Ireland has no colonies, so why does it need diplomats?
Patrick, in a world of snow and ice and fresh mountain air, saw the duties of his profession clearly:
We must not consider the actor or the role as pre-eminent. The sashes, the swallow-tail coats, the black silk hat, the appellation, the wining and dining, the chandeliers; the silver cutlery sometimes shine too brightly and blind us to our purposes, which must always be the ultimate interests of our country, especially her consolidation as an independent and sovereign nation. Perhaps M’s words about me are true when she sees me in such regalia: I am just a ‘stuffed shirt’.
***
In 1939 Patrick Foley was instructed to return to Madrid to attend Franco’s victory march. This was taken to mean in diplomatic circles that Ireland recognised the dictatorship, something which Britain had not done. The outcome of such action was that Ireland was now seen as an autonomous state on the international stage.
It was enough to make the embassy typist, señora Martínez, enquire why that rare phenomenon, a smile – albeit a wry one – registered on Patrick’s face.
Some days after the victory march, Patrick Foley was seated with two German agents at an open-air café near the Prado. He was watched carefully by two British agents across the road. Patrick records the meeting, but does not record the content of their conversation.
In an attempt to save MacSuibhne’s life, the Irish legation had proposed to de Valera that perhaps a trade deal could be made with Franco. As Spain was in danger of isolation from many countries, she would be glad of any help she could get from Ireland. In fact some Spanish diplomats had suggested an alliance of the Catholic countries, Spain, Italy and Ireland, to stand firm against the communist threat. Patrick Foley expressed his frustration when a trade deal was rejected by de Valera and Franco, both of whom he referred to as ‘stubborn mules’.
MacSuibhne could not be granted a pardon. Was Franco afraid of losing face? Patrick argued that American prisoners and those of other nationalities had been released. The counter argument was that MacSuibhne was not merely a republican soldier, but was now perceived as an international terrorist linked to Basque and Catalan anarchists.
However, there was the possibility of a break through German lines. Franco was dependent on Germany, and that country wanted to make use of IRA men in its planned onslaught on Britain. The compromise was that MacSuibhne would be allowed to ‘escape’, just as they had allowed the ‘escape’ of another Irish officer, Frank Ryan, some time previously.
Gearóid was to be driven to the Spanish border, where he would ‘break free’. Patrick asked if there was a guarantee that he would not be shot in the back. The agents told him that no such guarantee could be given; the alternative was to leave him in prison where he would surely die. A car would be
The following morning the weather cleared. I gave her some provisions and she went on her way. My quarters had acted as a house of shells and I was thankful I had preserved a life.
***
When Gearóid MacSuibhne was sentenced to death by Franco in 1938, my mother wrote to Patrick and asked him if he could do anything on Gearóid’s behalf. Patrick had no happy memories of MacSuibhne, but he was an Irishman in danger abroad, and Foley was the diplomat. Besides, de Valera had also sent official instructions that every diplomatic effort should be made to intervene if the lives of any of his former IRA colleagues were in jeopardy.
What is a diplomat? He is one who lies for his country. He is a weaver of words, a splitter of hairs, a surgeon of logic. Irish republicans argued he is a superfluity – Ireland has no colonies, so why does it need diplomats?
Patrick, in a world of snow and ice and fresh mountain air, saw the duties of his profession clearly:
We must not consider the actor or the role as pre-eminent. The sashes, the swallow-tail coats, the black silk hat, the appellation, the wining and dining, the chandeliers; the silver cutlery sometimes shine too brightly and blind us to our purposes, which must always be the ultimate interests of our country, especially her consolidation as an independent and sovereign nation. Perhaps M’s words about me are true when she sees me in such regalia: I am just a ‘stuffed shirt’.
***
In 1939 Patrick Foley was instructed to return to Madrid to attend Franco’s victory march. This was taken to mean in diplomatic circles that Ireland recognised the dictatorship, something which Britain had not done. The outcome of such action was that Ireland was now seen as an autonomous state on the international stage.
It was enough to make the embassy typist, señora Martínez, enquire why that rare phenomenon, a smile – albeit a wry one – registered on Patrick’s face.
Some days after the victory march, Patrick Foley was seated with two German agents at an open-air café near the Prado. He was watched carefully by two British agents across the road. Patrick records the meeting, but does not record the content of their conversation.
In an attempt to save MacSuibhne’s life, the Irish legation had proposed to de Valera that perhaps a trade deal could be made with Franco. As Spain was in danger of isolation from many countries, she would be glad of any help she could get from Ireland. In fact some Spanish diplomats had suggested an alliance of the Catholic countries, Spain, Italy and Ireland, to stand firm against the communist threat. Patrick Foley expressed his frustration when a trade deal was rejected by de Valera and Franco, both of whom he referred to as ‘stubborn mules’.
MacSuibhne could not be granted a pardon. Was Franco afraid of losing face? Patrick argued that American prisoners and those of other nationalities had been released. The counter argument was that MacSuibhne was not merely a republican soldier, but was now perceived as an international terrorist linked to Basque and Catalan anarchists.
However, there was the possibility of a break through German lines. Franco was dependent on Germany, and that country wanted to make use of IRA men in its planned onslaught on Britain. The compromise was that MacSuibhne would be allowed to ‘escape’, just as they had allowed the ‘escape’ of another Irish officer, Frank Ryan, some time previously.
Gearóid was to be driven to the Spanish border, where he would ‘break free’. Patrick asked if there was a guarantee that he would not be shot in the back. The agents told him that no such guarantee could be given; the alternative was to leave him in prison where he would surely die. A car would be
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