The Learned One

For the 1,600 young ladies at the Tokyo Joshi Daigaku (Tokyo Women's Christian College) it was a little flustering at first to encounter the new professor of ancient Oriental history. The ladies never knew just how low to bow. Even more disconcerting, the professor would merely tip his brown fedora, whatever one did, and quietly amble on. Sometimes he would ride to the college by bus and crowded electric tram. But if he happened to be late, he would occasionally pull up in an imperial limousine with the Emperor's chrysanthemum crest on the door. Furthermore, there was the problem of knowing how to address him. The new professor was none other than Prince Takahito Mikasa, 39, brother of the Emperor, and the only prince of the royal blood ever to teach in a classroom.

Had the ladies known him better, the prince in his new career might not have seemed so surprising. Ever since he was a child, he has made it a habit to confound the imperial household. At four, he broke into the public press by publishing an original essay ("The horse is a very clever animal. You beat him with a whip, and he quickly jumps"). For years after that, he was known as the Prince of Nursery Tales.

Horses & History. As a cavalry officer, he became the Horse Prince, and after serving in the war as an army major, he briefly earned the title of the Red Prince, because he echoed the Communist line against rearmament. He was the first of his family to get a driver's license. He became an outspoken apostle of the Yankee square dance, of birth control (said he after the birth of his fourth child: "It is not easy to practice what you preach"), and of the Crown Prince's right to marry as he chooses ("The Crown Prince is like a bird in a cage. If he prefers a love marriage, it should be recognized"). Meanwhile, he also became a recognized authority on the ancient Orient. For such a man, it seemed perfectly natural to sign up to teach at the Tokyo Women's College at $6.40 a month.

In the one term he has been there, the 15 girls in his class have gradually become accustomed to him. Before each lecture, he carefully reviews his notes, then launches into a lighthearted dissertation on anything from "Noah's Ark" (because it happens to be raining outside) to "Eye Shadow" (i.e., the cosmetics of ancient Egypt). Recently, he recommended that his students go to see the movie, The Egyptian, as "an illuminating pictorial explanation of the period we are discussing." Thereupon, he swung around to the blackboard, jotted down the time of every showing.

Tea & Sympathy. Though some of his colleagues still call him Denka (Your Imperial Highness, or Honorable Member of the Imperial Palace), most of his students have learned to address him as Sensei (Learned One). They have also learned that if they go to the cafeteria after class, they are apt to find him chatting away over a favorite dish that is now known as Prince Noodles. Then, with a friendly nod, the new professor departs--followed by an attendant whose solemn duty it is to tell him exactly what was wrong with his morning lecture.

Last week, as vacation time approached, Prince Mikasa decided to turn his last class into a tea party. "Have fun," he advised his students. "That's what vacations are for." But did the Denka intend to make a career of being a Sensei? Says Mikasa: "At first, I was so nervous and I spoke so fast that I had a tendency to stutter and mumble. But now I think I should make a pretty good professor."

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