LONDON GOSSIP.

Evening Star, Issue 9470, 15 August 1894, Page 4

LONDON GOSSIP.

[From Our Special Correspondent.] London, June 30. THE LATE PRESIDENT CARNOT.

It was with one oi the gracious, tactful little speeches which made him such an ideal President of the French Republic that M. Sadi Carnot passed “ beyond these voices.” He had recovered consciousness, and remarked in a weak but absolutely fearless whisper “I sec I am done for.” Life was ebbing too fast for anyone to dare to contradict the dying man. “M. lo President,” replied Dr Pouchet, “your friends are hero beside yon.” Carnot made a supreme effort, and raised his voice to almost conventional tones. “lam very happy they are present,” lie said, politely. And those wore his last words. The ruling passion was strong in death. Throughout his life ho had always been famous for saying just the right thing in the right way, and the habit clung to him even in the “ valley of the shadow.” Carnot’s election to the Presidency was unexpected, but no greater a surprise than the dignity and firmness with which he undertook the office. In an amazingly short time the grandson of Lazarc Carnot justified the choice, and showed himself ,»n admirable man for the post . For, first, he was as decorative a President as it is possible for the modern Frenchman lo be. “He had,” to quote M. Blowitz, “a sense of function and of appropriateness; lie was able to sooth and smooth down, and to perform the duties of a monarch with that absence of ostentation which is necessary to the head of a Republic. Then in politics he was both moderate and firm. In dealing with the curse of Anarchism alone M. Carnot was rightly inexorable. He made no excuses where none could be fairly made, and justice had always to take its course. He was without fear of consequences. Indeed, he was an ideal President for the French Republic—French to the core himself, respectable in the French way, dignified in the French way, businesslike, sincere, and honorable. Ho paid the penalty of these virtues on Sunday night.” Of President Carnot it may be truly said, in the immortal words of the poet, that he

Hath borne his faculties so meek. So clear in his great office, that Ids virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking off. THE PRESIDENT AND CROWDS.

It was Carnot’s friendliness and desire to conciliate the masses which cost him Ins life. He bad been warned against the Lyons Anarchists, and all day long a soldier had ridden by the carriage. But as will be gathered from the vivid personal narrative of M. Chaudey (given under a separate heading) the officer had just been told to stand aside when the catastrophe occurred. By this characteristically gracious act Sadi Carnot, without a doubt, unwittingly signed his own death warrant.

M. Carnot was as amiable witli the crowds that beset him as an American President. The ‘ Daily News ’ correspondent wrote ; —“ M. Garnet never missed visiting the hospitals when he went in state to the provinces. There was a deep fund of inherent tenderness for the poor in Ins nature. No head of a State in Europe gave in proportion to his means so much to the poor. M. Carnot’s amiability showed itself with much sweetness in his visits to the hospitals and schools, and in receiving deputations of market women and of young girls. When he visited great manufacturing towns his luggage-van looked, on his way back, like the saloon of an operatic star. It was crowded with bouquets, beautifully arranged baskets of fruits, sumptuous dresses packed in lovely card boxes, specimens of porcelain, hardware, and other industries. To M. Carnot Sunday was Ids' happy home-life day except when ho had to go to some race or other function. He looked after Ids books, generally read a religious book free from dogma, and ended the day at his mother’s. She is a sweet old lady. All her children and grandchildren met round her table at dinner on Sunday, and remained with her until late in the evening. On the night on which Sadi was elected President he said to his children : “ Your father, you sec, is obliged to leave this home where our lives have passed so happily and usefully, and to go to live in that * auberge,’ the Elysee.” He kept on the old home, aiid he and Madame Carnot paid it a weekly visit. It is said that Madame Carnot was exceedingly anxious that her husband should return to private life. She was the Egcria of her husband while lie was a modest engineer, and later, when he became Deputy, Under-Secretary of State, and Minister, she was always a wise adviser, but as wife of the President of the French Republic Madame Carnot distinguished herself. Her good taste, perfect tact, distinction, and charity made for Madame Carnot an exceptional place ju French society. When Carnot was elected to the Presidency in 18S7, it is said that the scene between him and Ids father was very touching. The President’s father was Dean of the Senate, and when M. Sadi Carnot knew that his own name was to be called as President of the French Republic lie was overcome with emotion, left the “Hall of Congress,” and threw himself upon an armchair in one of the salons of the palace- Here, thinking himself alone, ho could not restrain his tears, when suddenly he felt himself taken in someone’s arms, kissed on the forehead and cheek, and soothed as one would soothe a child. The father had quietly left his brother Senators and oome to rejoice with his son, of whom ho was very proud. Not a word yas spoken for some seconds, bub at last the father exclaimed: “You cannot imagine my joy, my dear, dear child,"

York’s heir, The “dear Tecks” arc in high feather over the achievement of “ darling May.” Never more will it be possible for the Royal and Imperial lady at Windsor to look coldly on her somewhat exuberant relatives at the White Lodge. “May’s baby” covers a multitude of financial indiscretions. Jesting apart, Her Majesty displayed remarkable excitement over the advent of the little stranger, and her eongratula? tiona were conveyed to the two grandmothers (the Princess of Wales and Duchess of Teck) superintending the accouchement within fifteen minutes of the event. Perhaps the most satisfactory circumstance in connection with this affair to the general public is that it seems to have completely broken down the coldness between the Princess of Wales and the White Lodge. As soon as the Duchess of York’s condition became what ladies call “interesting” the .Princess forgave her, but it was only over the cradle of the latest novelty in princelings that Her Royal Highness and the Duchess of Teck shook hands. Everybody! has noticed with satisfaction that latterly the Princess of Wales has gone about more as she used to, and no longer seems to shirk her husband and son’s company, She is still very grave, and her deafness makes it almost impossible to converse with her freely. But she has begun to take a faint interest in society again, and made quite an unexpected appearance the other evening at the Grosvenor House ball.

Students of history will, so the omniscient “liner ” declares, search in vain for another sovereign who, like Queen Victoria, lived to see the heir-apparent to her throne at the third remove. As events proved the three successors of George 111. were all alive in his lifetime, but he could not have regarded them as hia successors. George 11. in 1750 might have thought that he saw in his son Frederick, Prince of Wales, and in his grandson his two probable successors, though the death of ids son in the following year was to disappoint that expectation. George 1., before his death in 1727, could look upon George 11. and one who was likely to become George 111. Queen Victoria has the much more remarkable privilege of look ing at the same time upon three descendants in the direct line. This is not the only respect in which her position is unique. ' As her country has been called the mother of parliaments, so she may De called the mother of sovereigns. Her children and her children’s ■children arc becoming the kings and princes of Europe. Her grandson is Emperor of Germany, and (d.v.) her greatgrandson will be Czar of all the Russias.