Both Doing Well

May destiny, allotting what befalls,

Grant to the newly born this saving grace,

A guard more sure than ships and fortress walls,

The loyal love and service of a race,

Thus did Poet Laureate John Masefield, like an old mastiff stretched out by the fire and too tired to do more than thump his tail, welcome the royal newcomer. There were livelier greetings. Britons everywhere toasted the royal couple. In Tokyo, the British embassy gave a luncheon for 500 to celebrate the prince's birth. In Sydney, Australia, a streetcar motorman chalked "It's a boy" in huge white letters along the sides of his tram, while Cremorne Hospital hoisted a diaper with red, white and blue streamers to the very top of its flagstaff. Frugal Edinburgh gave its pupils a half-holiday in honor of Elizabeth's blond, blue-eyed baby and an Aberdeen woman celebrated her 100th birthday with the wish that Britain's princeling might live to celebrate his.

Visiting Hours. At Buckingham Palace, Princess Margaret came bounding back from a weekend in the country, and went racing up the stairs to see her nephew. There were gifts to be opened, sheaves of telegrams to be acknowledged (the palace post office reported a record haul of 4,100 on one day), including one from President Truman, one from the Pope and one from General Eisenhower. "We are particularly happy," wired Ike, "because the birthday of the prince is the same as that of Mrs. Eisenhower." A six-foot battalion commander of the Home Guard sent a sweater knitted by himself. New York's National Institute of Diaper Services sent 100 diapers, each one stamped with the royal arms.

After the baby's birth, Elizabeth herself had had a restless night; the crowds gathered outside were urged again & again to be quiet. By Tuesday headlines in most of the papers proclaimed that mother and child were "both doing well."

George or Nick? King George* had settled the matter of his grandson's title by making him H.R.H. the Prince of Edinburgh. Much more interesting was the matter of a name. On Tuesday Philip had to register his son for a national identity card by number only. At the risk of a -L-2 fine imposed by law on anyone not registering a child's name within 42 days, the royal infant's full name would not be decided upon until just before his baptism at Sandringham at Christmas time.

The Sunday Pictorial suggested Franklin Delano as a possibility. Court gossips, who knew Elizabeth's and Philip's tastes, were betting on Louis or Nicholas (both Mountbatten names); there were sure to be traditionalists in on the debate who would insist on the usual David, George, Andrew, and Patrick* for the four corners of the United Kingdom. All of these might be included, but the name that he would bear if he became king would be decided by his grandfather, the present king. At any rate, Elizabeth proclaimed to friends, whether she won out on the name or not, "I am going to be the mother of this child, not its nurses."

* George VI, slim & trim at 52, was ailing as he welcomed his grandson. This week, Buckingham Palace announced that he was suffering from a defective blood supply to the right foot. His tour to Australia and New Zealand, scheduled for next year, was postponed, public engagements canceled. Otherwise state duties, including the granting of audiences, would be continued. Said his physicians: "The King's general health, including the condition of his heart, gives no reason for concern, but no doubt the strain of twelve years has appreciably affected his resistance to physical fatigue."

* For bookmakers' fancies in the U.S., see NATIONAL AFFAIRS.

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