A LITTLE PRINCE OF SWEDEN.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume X, Issue 13, 1 April 1893, Page 311

A LITTLE PRINCE OF SWEDEN.

EW countries are more interesting than the land of the Vikings, that region in the north whence set sail, centuries ago, men who landed on our own shores, and whose landmarks are to be traced to-day. Not so very long ago Sweden was allied to Denmark. Now she is an independent country, and it is of the little boy destined, if the course of natural events runs smoothly, to be

her future King that I wish to tell you. He is known as the Duke of Scania—in Swedish, Hertigen Af Skane —and he is burdened by the following list of baptismal names : Oscar Frederik Vilhelm Olaf Gustaf Adolf, according to a custom popular among all royal families, the only reason for which is that a compliment is paid to those after whom the child is thus named. His father is the Crown-Prince of Sweden, and his mother, known popularly throughout the whole country as the ‘ Sweet Princess,’ owing to her boundless charity and goodwill towards all the people, is the granddaughter of the old Emperor Wilhelm I. of Germany. At the age of nineteen, in 1881, the Princess Victoria, who had another sobriquet—- ‘ the Rose of Germany ’ —was married to the Crown-Prince, and all the quaintest and at the same time splendid customs of the Swedish country into which she journeyed were revived to do honour to s marriage pleasing on all sides.

The little Duke of Scania was born in 1882, and is consequently now eleven years old ; but, like most of the young royalties, his mental and physical development is quite ahead of his years, since from the time he left his nurse’s arms he has been trained with a view to the responsible position he must one day occupy. He is, as the picture shows you, a sturdy, fine-looking lad, with more of the Swedish cast of countenance than the German, but he has his mother’s softness of expression in his eyes, and also a touch of her gay light heartedness, which, close student and scholar that he is, his father encourages thoroughly, believing that wholesome good spirits and buoyancy are more necessary in his rank of life than in any other, especially if they be combined with a well-disciplined character. The life of the little Duke is divided between the palace at Stockholm and the summer home at Drottningholm, seven miles from the capital. There are beautiful grounds, lawns, orchards, and wide grass-sown fields, where he and his younger brother enjoy themselves thoroughly. Strangers are chiefly impressed by the extreme simplicity of the lives of these Royal boys ; but this is due to their mother’s theory on the subject. While they are taught to maintain their dignity as princes, their daily lives are conducted on the simplest possible method. They meet their parents at breakfast in the morning, which is as informal a meal as possible, and the Princess herself conducts them to the school-room, conversing with their tutor for a time, looking over the lessons of the day, and hearing the report of the day previous. The military exercises are given during the morning, and again in the afternoon, and the recreation they like best is the drive with their mother later in the day, or horseback exercise with their father.

The old custom of employing chimney-sweeps is still maintained in Stockholm, and one morning while the Duke chanced to be left alone for a few moments in his dressingroom, the sound familiar to all those who have heard the little sweep at work came from the chimney near which he stood, and suddenly there appeared, in scrambling fashion, the soot-covered figure of the boy, who, as it turned out, had started on the wrong chimney. Naturally he was overcome with fright on finding himself in the young Duke's apartments; but with the natural feeling of kinship all small boys, whatever their rank, seem to have for each other, these two were presently on the best of terms. But the Duke insisted upon being shown how the sweep climbed the chimney, and when his attendant returned, he beheld to his horror the two boys laughing wildly as they scrambled

up the aperture, the Duke’s dark blue trousers all blackened and his fair head and rosy young face almost as sorry a sight as the sweep himself. Of course a severe reprimand was given to the poor little lad of the chimney, but the Duke insisted that he should not be punished for what he had done, and, in fact, would give his mother no rest until they sought the bo.y in his humble home, and not only assured him he was forgiven, but placed his family in more comfortable circumstances. The little Duke’s tastes lie strongly in the direction of art, fostered by his mother, who is exceedingly talented, and has done some fine modelling and sculpture. Her studio in the Stockholm palace is a beautiful room, where she is fond of entertaining her especial friends, and it is the little Duke’s delight to watch her at her work and to attempt something of the same kind himself. He enjoys nothing better than being present when his mother has a semi-informal reception, on which occasion he conducts himself with all the dignity of a young gentleman, yet with a sweet boyishness that makes his childhood so attractive to those about him. Like his mother, he has the greatest consideration for the feelings of those about him, and will try to remember every face and every name. On one occasion two American boys were brought to see him by a gentleman in the diplomatic service. They remained but a short time, but were invited to renew the visit on their return from Denmark. Some months later they availed themselves of this invitation, and it so chanced that they met the Duke and his tutor in the grounds of the summer palace on their way thither. The little prince looked at them smilingly for an instant, but with a certain hesitation in his manner. In fact, he had forgotten their names, and the meeting was so accidental that no formal introduction passed. His instinctive tact, however, came to his rescue, for, holding out his hand, he said, cordially :

‘ Oh, you are American ! I know you are American. That is enough.’ An old diplomat could hardly have managed the situation better.

When Charles Augustus, King of Sweden, died suddenly in 1809, Napoleon, whose word was law with the Swedes, was appealed to for a successor to the throne, and he chose his Marshal General Bernadotte. The great kindness this officer had shown all Swedish prisoners during the Pomeranian war inclined the people to welcome him, and he reigned successfully as Charles John XIV., leaving the crown to his son Oscar, who married the granddaughter of the Empress Josephine. The King is passionately fond of art, poetry, and music, and the talent displayed by his little grandson delights him. A frequent occurrence is the assembling of the family in the studio of the Crown-Princess, when the King, with one of her boys on his knee and the others near him—there are three lads now—will read aloud or recite some stirring verses, or he will accompany the Princes with his violin to her piano, the little Duke of

Scania also performing quite creditably on an instrument presented to him—one of the

few genuine Stradivari extant. Not long ago a society in Stockholm offered a prize for the best poem, to be submitted anonymously. Hun-

dreds were sent in, and after due deliberation, the choice was made ; but fancy the surprise on all sides when the beautiful and classic verses were found to have been

written by King Oscar ! In this happy home life, well cared for, loved, tutored, and disciplined, the little greatgrandson of Bernadotte bids fair to become a wise and

gentle ruler for the people who Jove him dearly now.