Seven Court Chamberlains

In the first days of the U.S. occupation, Emperor Hirohito surrendered both his divinity and his isolation from the people of Japan. He visited mines and factories, would call out to fishermen, "Did you have a good catch today?" He crawled informally into ditches to examine plants that interested him--he is an expert on fungus --and would then unconcernedly wipe his muddy hands on his trousers.

Disarrayed Traffic. But all that is in the past. A shy and scholarly man, Hirohito is happier dissecting shellfish than chatting with workers. The seven top court chamberlains found it relatively easy to rebuild the Chrysanthemum Curtain that has traditionally walled off the Emperor from his subjects. When, occasionally, Hirohito grew restive at the silken bonds, the chamberlains were ready with smooth explanations. Did the Emperor wish to browse in a Tokyo bookstore? They warned that "such a visit would put the booksellers to great expense and trouble, and would also disarray traffic." Did he wish to visit a sick brother? They murmured that the shock of seeing the Emperor in his sickroom might put the invalid in his grave. Hirohito was prevented from making a personal TV appearance or attending a horse race; though he avidly follows baseball on the palace TV set, only last year was he able to attend one game in person.

The chamberlains know they are viewed as villains by most Japanese. In defense, they plead that they are responsible for

Hirohito's safety, and point to such incidents as the 1954 tragedy when 17 persons were crushed to death in the rush to see the Emperor, and the shocking incident in 1958 when teen-age girls swarmed over the Emperor's car, waving autograph books and banging on the windows to get his attention. The chamberlains ignore the argument that such public frenzy might be the result of the rarity of the Emperor's appearances.

Toppled Throne. Despising the chamberlains as "stoneheads," the Japanese people look to young Prince Akihito, 26, and his commoner bride, Princess Michiko, 24, as the monarchy's last and best hope. The proposed visit of the young couple to the U.S. in May (Michiko's first child is expected in March) has been taken as evidence that when Akihito mounts the throne he will not become a prisoner of the chamberlains like his father. Thereupon the seven chamberlains urged postponement of Akihito's trip until well after President Eisenhower's visit to Japan in June, "to prevent members of the imperial family being used as a political instrument." Besides, they said, the Crown Prince should first repay visits from Ethiopia's Haile Selassie and Iran's Shah. Last week, blandly ignoring earlier pledges of a U.S. trip in May, the inflexible chamberlains declared that "the Imperial Household Board will work out its own plans for an autumn overseas tour" by Akihito, "independent of any political considerations."

It used to be a fond hope that the reticent and captive Hirohito would soon abdicate (he is only 59) in Akihito's favor. To quiet such rumors, the seyen chamberlains announced that construction will begin as soon as possible on a new $20 million palace for Emperor Hirohito since his present modest villa--which was formerly the imperial air-raid shelter--is beneath the dignity of a reigning monarch.

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