Sun's Son's Son

When the sacred white silk maternity belt was reverently wound around the person of Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Nogako a month ago, all Japan renewed the nation's years of patriotic Shinto prayer for a boy at last--a new Son of Heaven. Auspiciously the Empress's labor grew most severe last week just as Japan's sun was about to rise and burst refulgent on the Imperial Maternity Pavilion, freshly built in the Fountain Garden of Tokyo's moat-encircled Chiyoda Palace. Minute by minute they approached--the Sun Goddess and the Imperial Child--in what to Japanese courtiers standing motionless in full regalia with faces reverently blank seemed a divine unison. In an adjoining room of the Pavilion stoically waited His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Hirohito with the traditional weapons. Always before he had had to give the newborn a dagger, the birthright of every Japanese girl to protect her purity. Four daggers had he thus given to four daughters. This time would His Majesty at last be able to give a sword? At exactly 6:39 a. m. came the first mewing cry. Tokyo trembled as the Imperial siren shrieked once (feminine), then went wild as a second shriek proclaimed a boy. Strangers solemnly congratulated each other in the streets, on tramcars, in trains, on ferry boats. Husbands and wives flung themselves into an embrace. Shining-faced little boys and girls were treated by beaming shopkeepers to delicious bean-sugar cakes. Meanwhile--the Sword! A precious blade, short and strong, forged by the Imperial Swordsmith, Sadakatsu Gassan, it was presented to the newborn Crown Prince, not by his father direct--for the Emperor of Japan acts always through intermediaries--but by proud old Admiral Kantaro Suzuki as the Emperor's Messenger. During the sword ceremony the Imperial obstetricians could hardly wait. Directly afterward they pounced reverently on the babe, meticulously ascertained that he was 50 centimetres long (about 19 3/4 in.), weighed 7 lb., 3 oz. With bumble folk kneeling outside the Palace gate in freezing weather, a stream of princes, dignitaries and ambassadors began to roll in with congratulations at 7 a. m. First to arrive were Prince and Princess Chichibu. He, as the Emperor's eldest brother, has played for years the thankless role of heir presumptive. Relieved of this by the babe, brisk Chichibu and his beauteous Princess, who have had to remain childless lest they have a son before the Emperor, appeared radiant. For the Army spoke Lieut.-General Sadao Araki, War Minister and possible future Dictator of Japan. "The foundations of our Empire," cried he, "are now based more firmly than ever! The birth of a Crown Prince shows that the prosperity of the Imperial Household is increasing many times." Cabled President Roosevelt: "Mrs. Roosevelt and I wish to add an expression of our personal rejoicing."

That night in the clear, bitter cold thousands of Tokyoites paraded around the Palace moat with twinkling paper lanterns.

Seven days after birth the babe will receive a name, painted by Emperor Hirohito on a sheet of soft white paper, carried with pomp by an Imperial Messenger into the infant's presence. Same day Japan's Crown Prince will get his first bath, a rite of such antiquity that all its meanings are no longer known. While the babe is washed attendants will twang on bow strings as sages seated behind a screen read in loud and awful tones eloquent passages from ancient books.

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