The Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England

Saint George and the Dragon, Anglice Mercurius Poeticus

“The following ballad,” says Mr Wright in the Political Ballads of the Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, “was written on the occasion of the overthrow of the Rump by Monck. He arrived in London on the third of February, and professed himself a determined supporter of the party then uppermost. On the ninth and tenth he executed their orders against the city; but suddenly on the eleventh he joined the city and the Presbyterian party, and demanded the readmission of the members who were secluded formerly from the Long Parliament. This measure put an end to the reign of the Rump, and immediately afterwards the Parliament dissolved itself, and a new one was called.—(February 28th, 1659.)”—All the notes to this Ballad are from the pen of Mr Wright.

To the tune of “The Old Courtier of the Queen’s,” etc.

News! news! here’s the occurrences and a new Mercurius,
A dialogue betwixt Haselrigg the baffled and Arthur the furious;
With Ireton’s ¹ readings upon legitimate and spurious,
Proving that a saint may be the son of a whore, for the satisfaction of the curious.
From a Rump insatiate as the sea,
Libera nos, Domine.

Here’s the true reason of the citie’s infatuation,
Ireton has made it drunk with the cup of abomination;
That is, the cup of the whore, after the Geneva Interpretation,
Which with the juyce of Titchburn’s grapes ² must needs cause intoxication.
From a Rump, etc.

Here’s the Whipper whipt by a friend to George, that whipp’d Jack, ³ that whipp’d the breech,
That whipp’d the nation as long as it could stand over it—after which
It was itself re-jerk’d by the sage author of this speech:
“Methinks a Rump should go as well with a Scotch spur as with a switch.”
From a Rump, etc.

This Rump hath many a rotten and unruly member;
“Give the generall the oath!” cries one (but his conscience being a little tender);
“I’ll abjure you with a pestilence!” quoth George, “and make you remember
The ’leaventh of February ⁴ longer than the fifth of November!”
From a Rump, etc.

With that, Monk leaves (in Rump assembled) the three estates,
But oh! how the citizens hugg’d him for breaking down their gates,
For tearing up their posts and chaynes, and for clapping up their mates ⁵
(When they saw that he brought them plasters for their broken pates).
From a Rump, etc.

In truth this ruffle put the town in great disorder,
Some knaves (in office) smiled, expecting ’twould go furder;
But at the last, “My life on’t! George is no Rumper,” said the Recorder,
“For there never was either honest man or monk of that order.”
From a Rump, etc.

And so it proved; for, “Gentlemen,” says the general, “I’ll make you amends;
Our greeting was a little untoward, but we’ll part friends;
A little time shall show you which way my design tends,
And that, besides the good of Church and State, I have no other ends.”
From a Rump, etc.

His Excellence had no sooner pass’d this declaration and promise,
But in steps Secretary Scot, the Rump’s man Thomas,
With Luke, their lame evangelist (the Devil keep ’um from us!) ⁶
To shew Monk what precious members of Church and State the Bumm has.
From a Rump, etc.

And now comes the supplication of the members under the rod:
“Nay, my Lord!” cryes the brewer’s clerk; “good, my Lord, for the love of God!
Consider yourself, us, and this poor nation, and that tyrant abroad;
Don’t leave us:”—but George gave him a shrugg instead of a nodd.
From a Rump, etc.

This mortal silence was followed with a most hideous noyse,
Of free Parliament bells and Rump-confounding boyes,
Crying, “Cut the rogues! singe their tayles!” when, with a low voyce,
“Fire and sword! by this light,” cryes Tom, “Lets look to our toyes!”
From a Rump, etc.

Never were wretched members in so sad a plight;
Some were broyl’d, some toasted, others burnt outright; ⁷
Nay against Rumps so pittylesse was their rage and spite,
That not a citizen would kisse his wife that night.
From a Rump, etc.

By this time death and hell appear’d in the ghastly looks
Of Scot and Robinson (those legislative rooks);
And it must needs put the Rump most damnably off the hooks
To see that when God has sent meat the Devil should send cooks.
From a Rump, etc.

But Providence, their old friend, brought these saints off at last,
And through the pikes and the flames undismember’d they past,
Although (God wet) with many struglings and much hast,—
For, members, or no members, was but a measuring cast.
From a Rump, etc.

Being come to Whitehall, there’s the dismal mone,
“Let Monk be damn’d!” cries Arthur in a terrible tone ⁸—
“That traytor, and those cuckoldy rogues that set him on!”
(But tho’ the knight spits blood, ’tis observed that he draws none.)
From a Rump, etc.

“The plague bawle you!” cries Harry Martin, “you have brought us to this condition, ⁹
You must be canting and be plagued, with your Barebones petition, ¹⁰
And take in that bull-headed, splay-footed member of the circumcision,
That bacon-faced Jew, Corbet, ¹¹ that son of perdition!”
From a Rump, etc.

Then in steps driv’ling Mounson to take up the squabble,
That lord which first taught the use of the woodden dagger and ladle: ¹²
He that out-does Jack Pudding ¹³ at a custard or a caudle,
And were the best foole in Europe but that he wants a bauble.
From a Rump, etc.

More was said to little purpose,—the next news is, a declaration
From the Rump, for a free state according to the covenant of the nation,
And a free Parliament under oath and qualification,
Where none shall be elect but members of reprobation.
From a Rump, &c.

Here’s the tail firk’d, a piece acted lately with great applause,
With a plea for the prerogative breech and the Good old Cause,
Proving that Rumps and members are antienter than laws,
And that a bumme divided is never the worse for the flawes.
From a Rump, etc.

But all things have their period and fate,
An Act of Parliament dissolves a Rump of state,
Members grow weak, and tayles themselves run out of date,
And yet thou shalt not dye (dear breech), thy fame I’ll celebrate.
From a Rump, etc.

Here lies a pack of saints that did their souls and country sell
For dirt, the Devil was their good lord, him they served well;
By his advice they stood and acted, and by his president they fell
(Like Lucifer), making but one step betwixt heaven and hell.
From a Rump insatiate as the sea
Liberasti nos, Domine.

Col. John Ireton was the brother of the more celebrated Henry Ireton, and was an alderman of London. He appears to have been clerk of the Council of Officers at Wallingford House. ↩
Col. Robert Tichbourne was also an alderman, and had been Lord Mayor in 1658. He was an enthusiast in religion of the Independent party, and published several books, among which one was very celebrated, and is often referred to in the tracts of this period, entitled, “A Cluster of Canaan’s Grapes. Being severall experimented truths received through private communion with God by his Spirit, grounded on Scripture, and presented to open view for publique edification.” London, 4to, Feb. 16, 1649. In a satirical tract of the year 1660 he is made to say, “I made my mother, the city, drunk with the clusters which I brought from Canaan, and she in her drink made me a colonel.” After the return of the secluded members to the House, and the triumph of the city and the Presbyterian party, Ireton and Tichbourne were committed to the Tower, charged with aiming at the overthrow of the liberties of the city, and other grave misdemeanours. There are in the British Museum two satirical tracts relating to their imprisonment: 1. “The Apology of Robert Tichborn and John Ireton. Being a serious Vindication of themselves and the Good old Cause, from the imputations cast upon them and it by the triumphing city and nation in this their day of desertion. Printed for everybody but the light-heeled apprentices and head-strong masters of this wincing city of London.” (March 12, 1659–60.) 2. “Brethren in Iniquity: or, a Beardless Pair; held forth in a Dialogue betwixt Tichburn and Ireton, Prisoners in the Tower of London.” 4to. (April 30, 1660.) ↩
George Monk and John Lambert. ↩
The eleventh of February was the day on which Monck overthrew the Rump, by declaring for the admission of the secluded members. ↩
On the tenth of February Monk, by order of the Parliament, had entered the city in a hostile manner. “Mr Fage told me,” says Pepys, “what Monck had done in the city, how he had pulled down the most parts of the gates and chains that he could break down, and that he was now gone back to Whitehall. The city look mighty blank, and cannot tell what in the world to do.” The next day he turned from the Parliament, and took part with the city. ↩
Thomas Scot and Luke Robinson were sent by the Parliament to expostulate with Monk, but without effect. ↩
Pepys gives the following description of the rejoicings in the city on the evening of the eleventh of February:—“In Cheapside there were a great many bonfires, and Bow bells and all the bells in all the churches as we went home were a-ringing. Hence we went homewards, it being about ten at night. But the common joy that was everywhere to be seen! The number of bonfires! there being fourteen between St Dunstan’s and Temple Bar, and at Strand Bridge I could at one time tell thirty-one fires. In King-street seven or eight; and all along burning, and roasting, and drinking for Rumps, there being rumps tied upon sticks and carried up and down. The butchers at the May Pole in the Strand rang a peal with their knives when they were going to sacrifice their rump. On Ludgate Hill there was one turning of a spit that had a rump tied upon it, and another basting of it. Indeed it was past imagination, both the greatness and the suddenness of it. At one end of the street you would think there was a whole lane of fire, and so hot that we were fain to keep on the further side.” ↩
In a satirical tract, entitled “Free Parliament Quæries,” 4to, April 10, 1660, it is inquired “Whether Sir Arthur did not act the Raging Turk in Westminster Hall, when he saw the admission of the secluded members?” Pepys gives the following account of the reception of Monck’s letter from the city on the 11th of February:—“So I went up to the lobby, where I saw the Speaker reading of the letter; and after it was read Sir A. Haselrigge came out very angry, and Billing, standing by the door, took him by the arm and cried, ‘Thou man, will thy beast carry thee no longer? thou must fall!’” ↩
Haselrigge was accused of having been a dupe to Monck’s cunning intrigues. ↩
The celebrated Praise-God Barebone, at the head of a body of fanatics, had (February 9th) presented a strong petition to the House in support of the Good old Cause, which gave great offence to the Presbyterian party and the citizens, although it was received with thanks. According to Pepys, one of Monck’s complaints against the Parliament was, “That the late petition of the fanatique people presented by Barebone, for the imposing of an oath upon all sorts of people, was received by the House with thanks.” The citizens did not omit to show their hostility against the presenter of the petition. On the 12th, Pepys says, “Charles Glascocke . . . told me the boys had last night broke Barebone’s windows.” And again, on the 22nd, “I observed this day how abominably Barebone’s windows are broke again last night.” ↩
Miles Corbet, as well as Tichbourn, had sat upon the King in judgment. In a satirical tract, published about the same time as the present ballad, Tichbourn is made to say, “They say I am as notorious as Miles Corbet the Jew.” In another, entitled “The Private Debates, etc., of the Rump,” 4to, April 2, 1660, we read, “Call in the Jews, cryes Corbet, there is a certain sympathy (quoth he), methinks, between them and me. Those wandering pedlers and I were doubtless made of the same mould; they have all such blote-herring faces as myself, and the devil himself is in ’um for cruelty.” He was one of those who fled on the Restoration, but he was afterwards taken treacherously in Holland, and, being brought to London, was executed as a regicide. In another satirical tract, entitled “A Continuation of the Acts and Monuments of our late Parliament” (Dec. 1659), it is stated that, “July 1, This very day the House made two serjeants-at-law, William Steele and Miles Corbet, and that was work enough for one day.” And, in a fourth, “Resolved, That Miles Corbet and Robert Goodwin be freed from the trouble of the Chief Register Office in Chancery.” Mercurius Honestus, No. 1. (March 21, 1659–60.) ↩
William Lord Monson, Viscount Castlemaine, was member for Ryegate in the Long Parliament. He was degraded from his honour at the Restoration, and was condemned to be drawn on a sledge with a rope round his neck from the Tower to Tyburn, and back again, and to be imprisoned there for life. It appears, by the satirical tracts of the day, that he was chiefly famous for being beaten by his wife. In one, entitled “Your Servant, Gentlemen,” 4to, 1659, it is asked, “Whether that member who lives nearest the church ought not to ride Skimmington next time my Lady Mounson cudgels her husband?” And in another (“The Rump Despairing,” 4to, London, March 26, 1660) we find the following passage:—“To my Lord Monson. A sceptre is one thing, and a ladle is another, and though his wife can tell how to use one, yet he is not fit to hold the other.” ↩
Pudding John, or Jack Pudding, was a proverbial expression of the times for a Merry Andrew. In an old English-German Dictionary it is explained thus:—“Jack-Pudding, un buffon de theatre, deliciæ populi, ein Hanswurst, Pickelhering.” The term was applied as a soubriquet to any man who played the fool to serve another person’s ends. “And first Sir Thomas Wrothe (Jack Pudding to Prideaux the post-master) had his cue to go high, and feele the pulse of the hous.” History of Independency, p. 69 (4to, 1648). ↩

Footnotes