Royal baby arrives to traditional pomp and modern circumstance

London: The news, when it finally came, was hardly a surprise. But after the days of speculation, of webcams showing live scenes of inactivity, of bystanders photographing one another and of wilting reporters straining for new ways to say nothing was happening, the arrival of the newest royal heir Monday afternoon turned out to be as much a relief as a joy.

The baby, a boy who weighed in at 8 pounds, 6 ounces, will not be king for some time: He has to wait in the long line behind his great-grandmother Queen Elizabeth II; his grandfather Prince Charles; and his father, Prince William. Nor are British monarchs as important in the wider scheme of things as they were in, say, the 16th century.

But the birth of the as-yet-unnamed (at least as far as we know) royal son of William and his wife, the Duchess of Cambridge, gave Britain a chance to celebrate itself by connecting its past to its present, something it is especially good at.

It also gave the wider world a chance to demonstrate once again that there is something about royal occasions that can apparently turn republicans into monarchists, however briefly, even in countries that renounced their own monarchies long ago.

Failing that, it gave people here something to focus on that did not have to do with the bad political situation, the bad economy or the bad weather.

Like a bride wearing something old and something new, Buckingham Palace announced the birth in a way that reflected both traditional pomp and modern circumstance. Yes, a piece of paper signed by the royal doctors and announcing that Kate "was safely delivered" of a boy was driven from the hospital to Buckingham Palace, where it was solemnly placed on an ornate, gold-trimmed easel to impress tourists.

But the palace first announced the birth the modern way, via a news release that meant the information flashed around the world before the piece of paper even made it into the car. The palace did not explain why it had reneged on its plan to make both statements simultaneously, but one possibility is that it wanted to forestall potential tabloid efforts to follow the car in a dangerous fashion while trying to photograph the contents of the paper.

Following ancient custom, political leaders in Britain hastened to join the happy bandwagon by expressing their pleasure. Prime Minister David Cameron announced on Twitter that he was "delighted" and that Kate and William would be "wonderful parents."

Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg said that "this is wonderful news that will make the whole country smile." And across the Atlantic, President Barack Obama referred to the "special relationship" enjoyed by Britain and the United States - always a way to warm British hearts - and declared that he and his wife, Michelle, wished William and Kate "all the happiness and blessings parenthood brings."

Members of the royal family said they, too, were thrilled, led by Prince William, who said, "We could not be happier."

The story began Monday morning when people woke up to the news that the Duchess of Cambridge, formerly known as Kate Middleton, was in the early stages of labor and that she had been admitted to St. Mary's Hospital in Paddington, where Prince William was born 31 years ago.

For most of the day, that was all the news there was. Hundreds of people gathered at the hospital to find out what was going on, but nothing was going on, at least as far as anyone told them. No one emerged to reveal whether Kate had an epidural, for instance, or whether she swore at William when he told her how to breathe - these are the Windsors, not the Kardashians - and the crowd had to wait in ignorance.

It was the hottest day in seven years. Téba Diatta, a British-Senegalese Kate-and-William fan wrapped in a long, homemade Union Jack skirt, had made a cake to commemorate the occasion, but by the afternoon the icing had cracked and the writing had become partly illegible.

"It used to say, 'Come on Kate, we can't wait, give us something to celebrate,'" Diatta said sadly.

Meanwhile, another equally in-the-dark crowd had gathered at Buckingham Palace, many people pressed right up against the gates, as if they were prisoners trying to break out of their non-royal lives. Some were Britons who had come especially for the occasion; some were tourists who claimed they just happened to be there; others for some reason turned up in elaborate costumes.

Some couples seemed to be in slight discord over the cosmic importance of the event.

"We're going to wait here until the baby's born," said Denise Cave, a 49-year-old Canadian.

"We are?" said her husband, Wayne, 51, who did not share his wife's unalloyed excitement.

He thought of an alternative plan, whereby Cave could remain where she was to wait out the labor, while he went to "grab a beer and watch it on TV."

The news was released to huge cheers, and then an air of anticlimax. The reporters who had speculated for days about when the baby would be born enjoyed a moment of emotional satisfaction, and then switched to their next obsessive speculation: what the baby will be named.

The BBC reported that it took Prince William's parents, Prince Charles and Diana, Princess of Wales, a week to name their firstborn son, so who knows when this next bit of news will come.

The palace said it would happen "in due course."

As night fell at the palace, the crowds realized that nothing else was going to happen - Queen Elizabeth, for instance, was not going to ruin generations of tradition and suddenly come out to answer their questions - and began to dissipate. They said it had been an arduous experience.

"It was like going through labor," said Michael Frederick, who works in public relations, speaking of the wait, and the heat, and the crowds, and the excitement, and finally of Kate. "I hope she realizes what I have been through."