In his last moments he declared that his principal depredations had been committed against the republican party, and that he was sorry for nothing so much as not living to see his royal master restored.
THE GERMAN PRINCESS.
Though this remarkable female character was denominated a German Princess, for a reason which will be mentioned in the course of her narrative, she was a native of Canterbury, and her father a chorister of that cathedral. From her sprightly and volatile disposition, she at an early period took delight in reading the novels that were at that time fashionable,—such as Parismus and Parismanus, Don Bellianis of Greece, Amadis de Gaul, and Cassandra and Cleopatra; and in a little time really believed what she wished, even that she was a princess.
But in her marriage she lost sight of her exalted conceptions, and united her fortune with a journeyman shoemaker. She resided with him until she had two children, who both died in their infancy. The industrious shoemaker was unable to support her extravagance, so that she at last left him, to seek her fortune elsewhere.
A woman of her figure, beauty, and address, was not long before she procured another husband. She went to Dover, and married a surgeon of that place, but, being apprehended and tried at Maidstone for having two husbands, by some dexterous manœuvre she was acquitted.
She presently after embarked for Holland, and travelled by land to Cologne, and having a considerable sum of money, took handsome lodgings at a house of entertainment, and cut a dashing figure. As it is customary for the gentry in England to frequent Brighton during the season, so it was then customary for those in Germany to frequent the Spa. Our heroine went thither, and was addressed by an old gentleman who had a good estate in the vicinity. With the assistance of her landlady, she managed this affair with great art. The old gentleman presented her with several fine jewels, besides a gold chain and costly medal, which had been given him, for some gallant action under count Tilly, against the valiant Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. He at length began to press matrimony with all the keenness of a young lover, and, unable to resist the siege any longer, she consented to make him happy in three days. Meanwhile, he supplied her with money in great profusion, and she was requested to prepare what things she pleased for the wedding. The Princess now deemed it high time to be gone, and, to secure her retreat, acquainted her landlady with her design. Having already shared largely of the spoils that our adventurer had received from her old doating lover, the aged beldame, in hopes of pillaging him a little more, encouraged and aided her flight. Our heroine requested her to go and provide her a seat in a carriage which took a different road from that of Cologne, as she did not wish that her lover should be able to trace her route. When our Princess found herself alone, she broke open a chest in which the good woman had deposited all her share of the spoil that she had received from our heroine, as well as her own money. Madame made free with all, and took her passage to Utrecht, from thence went to Amsterdam, sold her chains and some jewels, and then passed into Rotterdam, from whence she speedily embarked for England.
She landed at Billingsgate, one morning very early in the end of March 1663, and found no house open until she came to the Exchange inn, where she attained to the dignity of a German princess in the following manner. In this inn, she got into the company of some gentlemen who, she perceived, were full of money, and these addressing her in a rude manner, she began to weep most bitterly, exclaiming that it was extremely hard for her to be reduced to this extreme distress, who was once a princess. Here she recited the story of her extraction and education, and much about her pretended father, the lord Henry Vanwolway, a prince of the empire, and independent of every man but his Imperial Majesty. “Certainly,” said she, “any gentleman here present may conceive what a painful situation this must be to me to be thus reduced, brought up as I have been under the care of an indulgent father, and in all the luxuries of a court. But, alas! what do I say?—Indulgent father! was it not his cruelty which banished me, his only daughter, from his dominions, merely for marrying, without his knowledge, a nobleman of the court whom I loved to excess? Was it not my father who occasioned my dear lord and husband to be cut off in the bloom of his age, by falsely accusing him of a design against his person,—a deed which his virtuous soul abhorred?” Here she pretended that the poignancy of her feelings would allow her to relate no more of her unfortunate history.
The whole company was touched with compassion at the melancholy tale, which she related with so much unaffected simplicity, that they had not a doubt of its truth. Compassionating her unfortunate situation, they requested her acceptance of all the money they had about them, promising to return again with more. They were as good as their promise, and she ever after went by the name of the unfortunate German Princess.
The man who kept the inn, knowing that she was come from the continent, and seeing that she had great riches about her, was disposed more than ever to believe the truth of her story. Nor was Madame backward to inform him, that she had collected all that she possessed from the benevolent contributions of neighboring princes, who knew and pitied her misfortunes. “Nor durst any one of them,” continued she, “let my father know what they had done, or where I am, for he was so much more powerful than any of them, that if he understood that any one favored me, he would instantly make war upon them.”
King, the innkeeper, being convinced of her rank and fortune, John Carleton, his brother-in-law, no doubt receiving proper information from King, became enamored of the Princess, and presumed to pay his addresses to her. She was highly displeased at first, but, from his importunity, was at last prevailed upon to descend from her station, and receive the hand of a common man. Poor Carleton thought himself the happiest of mortals, in being thus so highly honored by a union with such an accomplished and amiable princess, possessed of an ample fortune, though far inferior to what she had a right to expect from her noble birth.