The heir to the throne robbed of his coronation

When he speaks of Francois Cevert, inevitably Jackie Stewart becomes emotional, for this was not only his team-mate, but also the closest friend he ever had in motor racing.

The final race of the 1973 season, at Watkins Glen, was to be Stewart's 100th grand prix, and he had decided months earlier that it would be his last. As it was, he never went to the grid, the perfect symmetry of his career ravaged by a practice accident in which Cevert died.

They had driven together since mid-1970, when Francois replaced Johnny Servoz-Gavin in the Tyrrell team. Cevert's debut, at Zandvoort, came in one of the March 701s Tyrrell was then running.

"Not ideal for your first experience of a grand prix car," said Stewart. "The 701 was sometimes fast, but it wasn't nice to drive. Francois was in at the deep end - as it turned out, he made his debut the weekend Piers [Courage] was killed..."

Initially Cevert's results were unremarkable, but at Monza he scored his first point. In another way, too, the weekend left its mark.

"It was there," he said, "that I realised it could happen to me. On the Friday I spun at maximum speed, but somehow didn't hit anything - and I laughed about it. Next day, 200 yards ahead of me, Jochen Rindt crashed, and was killed.

"That night I took pills, but still I couldn't sleep - I knew I could have been killed too."

Swiftly Cevert had established himself in the F1 fraternity, not least because of his natural glamour. With his startling blue eyes, he was good-looking in a way that had girls gnawing at the back of their hands, yet carried it off with such grace that none could dislike him for it.

"Certainly," smiled Stewart, "you could say that Francois never lacked for company, but he was absolutely unpretentious and genuine - not at all infatuated with himself, which so many people like that are.

"Through that summer only Ken [Tyrrell] knew I was going to retire. I told him that I felt confident Francois was the right man to be number one in 1974 - I think he could have won the championship" Jackie Stewart

"In the same way, he was from a very rich Parisian family, but you'd never have known about the wealth."

When it came to his job, there was nothing of the playboy about Cevert, who revered Stewart, only too aware that he was working with the best: any time Jackie had words of counsel for him, he was going to listen.

In 1971 Stewart took his second world championship, and Cevert, maturing by the race, finished third in the standings, with a couple of second places (to JYS) and, at Watkins Glen, a victory. I never saw a more joyful winner.

The following season his best results were a pair of seconds, but drivers did not confine themselves to F1, and Francois had successes elsewhere, including a CanAm victory in a McLaren.

In 1973 he won the F2 race at Pau, and crewed the winning Matra in the Vallelunga Six Hours, but although he would six times finish second in GPs (three of them shadowing Stewart), there would be no more wins.

"Through that summer only Ken [Tyrrell] knew I was going to retire," said Stewart. "I told him that I felt confident Francois was the right man to be number one in 1974 - I think he could have won the championship."

As was the custom back in the day, the season finished with a couple of races in North America, and on a chaotically wet day at Mosport for the Canadian GP Cevert was injured in an accident with Jody Scheckter.

"We went to the hospital feeling anxious," said Stewart. "'Are you a member of the family?' They said - never a good sign. When we got to his room, it had been cleared, and I thought, 'Oh, Christ...' I said to the nurse, 'Is everything all right with Mr Cevert?' 'Yes,' she said, 'he's on the balcony, smoking...' The relief we felt!"

The Stewarts had planned a break between the races, and invited a limping Cevert to join them. "At first he said, 'No, no, it's your holiday', but we persuaded him, and I'll always be glad we did.

"In Bermuda I'd booked a place called the Ocean Reef Club. In the dining room there was a piano, and Francois got up to play - he was a superb pianist, and had been classically trained. He started off with ragtime stuff, and no one took much notice, but then he played his favourite piece, which was Beethoven's 'Pathetique' Sonata, and the whole place was mesmerised. They applauded like mad - after that he had to do it every night!

"Francois told me he'd had an offer from Ferrari, and I said, 'Well, that's good, but you don't have to decide until the season's over - I think you should stay with Ken'."

By the time they got to the Glen Cevert was feeling fit again. He adored this circuit on which he had won, and was right on the pace, vying with Ronnie Peterson for fastest time on Saturday morning. Towards the end of the session he went out one last time.

"I was fighting for the title with Emerson [Fittipaldi] and I remember him saying, 'I don't know how you drive that car.' He was right: it was a handful" Jackie Stewart

Although successful, that year's Tyrrell - with an ultra-short wheelbase - was not easy to drive.

"I was fighting for the title with Emerson [Fittipaldi]," said Stewart, "and I remember him saying, 'I don't know how you drive that car.' He was right: it was a handful."

Driving a third Tyrrell was Chris Amon, who indeed found it twitchy, particularly through the quick uphill esses.

"You had to be very much on the right line there, and, like Jackie, I found it better to use fourth [gear], rather than third, because the car was more settled. I was flat through there about three times in five, but judging by his times, Francois was flat every lap - and I subsequently learned that he was using third..."

Six minutes remained when Cevert's car glanced the barrier at the top of the esses, then speared across the track into the guardrail on the left, which split apart on impact. Several drivers stopped at the scene.

"Chris was there when I arrived," said Stewart. "I knew from all the blue it was a Tyrrell, and thought it was he who'd had the accident. I said, 'Are you OK?', but he just shook his head - and then I knew it was Francois.

"It was a shocking sight, and I've always regretted that I didn't stay longer with him. That might sound an odd thing to say - I knew he was dead - but it was something I felt."

Eye-witnesses said that Cevert had run wide at the right-hander at the bottom of the esses, which put him off-line into the left: apparently he never lifted, and at the exit skimmed the barrier, then pitched across the road.

"Of course we withdrew," said Stewart, "but the mechanics were concerned that something had broken on the car. I was sure I knew what had happened, but they were so distressed I felt, even knowing I was never going to race again, I had to go out in the afternoon, to show that I had confidence in the car.

"Helen had gone back to the Glen Motor Inn with Norah Tyrrell. I went there after my run in the car, and it was then that I said to her, 'I'm no longer a racing driver'. How she coped with that much emotion in one day I'll never know - she'd had to clear up Francois's room, just as she'd done for Piers and for Jochen. In those days the girls went through more than the men, I think."