THE BIRTH of an heir to the Prussian throne is still the great event in our home politics. The politicians who devote themselves to the discussion of this event are remarkable for their zeal rather than their modesty and discretion; our ladies talk all like monthly nurses, and our newspapers read like clinical lectures on the obstetric art.
The fact is, Princess Victoria is the chief lioness of the day; all her doings and sayings are repeated, imitated, commented upon, and whatever dress she may happen to wear upon her first appearance in public, will most assuredly set the fashion for next summer. As it is our ladies robe their dainty limbs from top to toe à la Princess Royal. The colours of her ribands and the patterns of her collars are copied in the most conscientious manner, and with a touching perseverance.
It has been remarked that he was born on the same day as Mozart, the composer, Schelling, the philosopher, and Chamisso, the poet. The Berliners are in raptures, with General Wrangel (Father Wrangel they called him in 1848 when he proclaimed martial law) who, taking a military view of all things, mentioned his new-born highness as “the new recruit”.
It is understood that the “new recruit” has been made the subject of some of the worst poetry that ever was written. Among these verse-makers most conspicuously absurd are Herr Scharfenberg, who calls upon his Royal Highness – “Do not delay, but place” the crown of the German Empire upon “your infant head”.
The most popular of these is a lullaby. This song is very fashionable; it has been put to music by Herr Kücken, who, I believe is the composer of “Trab, Trab”, and full-grown men and women actually do sing it.