Not Yet, Josephine . . .

Foreign Minister Michel Debre was droning on during the weekly Cabinet meeting at the Elysee Palace when Charles de Gaulle, tossing his head impatiently, cut him off. The general had something he wanted to get on the record. "In the accomplishment of the national task that has been bestowed on me," intoned De Gaulle, "I was re-elected President on December 19, 1965, for seven years by the French people. I have the duty and the intention of completing this mandate until the end." To make certain that the French people heard clearly, De Gaulle instructed Information Minister Joel Le Theule to repeat his message word for word to waiting newsmen.

Knocked-Down Dauphin. De Gaulle, who was 78 last November, has called old age "a shipwreck" and insisted that "one must know how to retire." Until last week, however, the general has been a reynard about the timing of his farewell. Associates assumed that he might leave early. Since De Gaulle dotes on symbolism, the dates most often guessed were June 18, 1970, the 30th anniversary of his London broadcast urging French resistance, or his 80th birthday later that year. What prompted De Gaulle last week to stop playing coy was that another fox was suddenly being blunt. On a visit to Rome, former Gaullist Premier Georges Pompidou openly declared for the first time that he would be a candidate for President "if the presidency is one day vacant."

Pompidou has been saying the same thing in private ever since De Gaulle suddenly replaced him six months ago with Maurice Couve de Murville. To friends, the onetime Rothschild partner confided that "I will either be the next President of France or leader of the opposition."

Pompidou is certain he could win. His handling of last summer's strikes and riots, he feels, was so adept that "a current" passed between himself and the country. Proof of the current was the Gaullist sweep of the special election in June, which Pompidou masterminded. The former Premier feels that he received a charge as well as a current. When he placed Pompidou "in reserve," De Gaulle asked him to "be prepared to accomplish any mission and to assume any mandate that could one day be confided to you by the nation." Pompidou and almost everyone else assumed that this was De Gaulle's oracular way of naming his close comrade dauphin, readying him for the day when the emperor retired. Last week's emphatic statement tempered such speculation. Observed Le Monde: "De Gaulle disavows the man who for six years was his closest collaborator."

French politicians were suspicious of Pompidou's timing since Pompidou had had a long meeting with De Gaulle before he departed for Rome. "He should have visited Florence instead of Rome," growled one Gaullist deputy, implying that his colleague was acting like an intriguing Medici. Pompidou, who made the announcement over drinks with newsmen at the French embassy, insisted that he had spoken only out of gallantry. A lady had asked the question, he said; had a man asked, he would have been more brusque. Returning to Paris, Pompon, as Frenchmen have nicknamed him, toned down his Roman remarks. "Thank heavens," he told newsmen, "General de Gaulle is thoroughly in the saddle."

Pompidou has, of course, a notable flair for gallantry. But he doubtless had political reasons for speaking when he did. While diminishing his public role, De Gaulle also advised him to remain visible. In six months of relative inactivity, Pompidou had undeniably begun to dim in the public consciousness. To be sure, he is still a Deputy in the National Assembly and the acknowledged though unofficial leader of the Gaullist majority. He has steadfastly supported De Gaulle decisions, most notably by characterizing the recent presidential embargo of Israel as "impeccable." But his present office in a Left Bank apartment house is a far cry from the Premier's splendid quarters in the Matignon Hotel, and his visibility as a Deputy is small.

Pompidou, however, has some advantages in his quest for the presidency. One is that his potential opposition is doing poorly at the moment. Couve de Murville is efficient but dull; he calls himself a "provisional Prime Minister" in jest, but Frenchmen have begun to agree. Debre is losing favor with De Gaulle because he is lukewarm toward the President's plans for decentralizing government. Education Minister Edgar Faure has lost stature as a result of continuing student unrest; last week rioters from the Lycee Saint Louis in Paris temporarily seized the Sorbonne, and at the new University of Vincennes agitators had to be driven out by police using tear gas.

Benefit Appearance.Pompidoumean-while has begun acting like a campaigner. He and his ash-blonde wife Claude no longer vacation with the Cote d'Azur dolce vita set. Instead, they visit the staid Atlantic Coast or their country home at Cajarc in Lot, where Pompidou is photographed talking to the peasants. At the same time, he is subtly disengaging himself from unpopular De Gaulle positions. Though he agreed with the Israeli embargo, he did not like De Gaulle's innuendo that Jews unduly influenced the French press. Pompidou also believes, in light of Russian intransigence over Czechoslovakia, that France should renew Western ties weakened by De Gaulle. Significantly, his 1969 agenda tentatively includes trips to the U.S., Mexico and Canada, as well as tours of the French provinces to discuss domestic problems. His next major venture: a February appearance in Geneva where, for the benefit of a French audience, he will speak on "The Future of France."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.