“Tom acted this scene of mirth in the Hall, which proved to be a thing of that convenience, as if it had been an act of some set policy to keep the crowd out of the parlour, that the Masquers might have room enough to dance in. At last, when the Masque was ended, and Time had brought in supper, the Cushion led the dance out of the Parlour into the Hall,[B] and saluted the old new-made bridgroom and his lady, leading them into the parlour to a table which was furnished with the same allowance that was allotted for all the nobles; where they were soon forced to sit down,” and were bountifully served.
“Supper being ended, the Marquis of Worcester asked the Lady, his daughter, if she had a hundred pounds about her. No, my Lord, she answered, but I can send for as much. I pray do, said the Marquis, but it must be all in gold. She sent for it accordingly, presenting it to her father, who pulled out another purse of a hundred pieces; and put the two hundred pieces in the basin, saying—‘Madam, if you do not give earnest, Deputy will tell you in the morning, that he married your woman but in jest.’ Whereupon some gave fifty, others forty, some twenty, others ten, the least gave five pieces, who sat at the table, in all seven hundred pounds; the apparel and other gifts amounting to no less value than one thousand pounds, which so transported the old man, that he protested, that now he was in the humour, he would marry all the waiting gentlewomen they had; one every day in the week, as long as the wedding lasted.”
Thomas, however, was at that period of the entertainment overcome with the potent effects of the good wine of which he had freely partaken. The Marquis, desirous of making the practical experiment of trying whether Thomas could be persuaded that the past was all a dream; had him carried to his old lodging in the Porter’s Lodge, and disrobed of his fine clothes, which was done accordingly. Next morning the experiment realized all their expectations; and the Marquis, after many good exhortations to both parties, delivered unto them the money that had been collected.
During the troubles preceding the civil war, a circumstance occurred at the castle which establishes the early attachment of the Earl of Glamorgan to scientific and mechanical pursuits, whilst it affords tolerably conclusive proof of his having actually constructed the identical invention which has immortalized his name.
Dr. Bayly informs us, to quote his own words, that “At the beginning of this Parliament (Nov. 1640), there were certain rustics who came into Raglan Castle to search for arms, his Lordship being a Papist.” The Marquis met them at the castle gate, desiring to know whether they came to take away his money, seeing they intended to disarm him. They stated that they made the application merely in consequence of his being a recusant. To which he replied, “he was a peer of the realm, and no convict recusant, therefore the law could not in reason take notice of any such things.” Finding some sharp and dubious expressions coming from the Marquis, they were at last willing to take his word; but he, not wishing to part with them on such easy terms, had before resolved to return them one fright for another. With that view he conveyed them up and down the castle, until at length he “brought them over a high bridge that arched over the moat, that was between the castle and the great tower,[C] wherein the Lord Herbert had newly contrived certain water-works, which, when the several engines and wheels were to be set a-going, much quantity of water, through the hollow conveyances of the aqueducts, was to be let down from the top of the high tower; which, upon the first entrance of these wonderful asinegoes, the Marquis had given order that these cataracts should begin to fall, which made such a fearful and hideous noise, by reason of the hollowness of the tower, and neighbouring echoes of the castle, and the waters that were between, and round about, that there was such a roaring as if the mouth of hell had been wide open, and all the devils conjured up, occasioning the poor silly men to stand so amazed, as if they had been half dead; and yet they saw nothing. At last, as the plot was laid, up came a man staring and running, crying out, Look to yourselves, my masters, for the lions are got loose. Whereupon the searchers tumbled so over one another escaping down the stairs, that it was thought one half of them would break their necks, never looking behind them until out of sight of the castle.”[23]
It was probably not long after the commencement of the civil war that the occurrence we have next to notice happened at the castle, affecting the then Lord Herbert, which is related by the family chronicler in his 48th Apophthegm thus:—“My Lord Herbert of Raglan (eldest son of the Marquis) came into Raglan Castle, attended with 40 or 50 officers and commanders; and his business with his father being about procuring from the old man more money for the King, the Lord Herbert in his request unto his father (unhappily and unawares) chanced to use the word must; which his father (the Marquis) laying hold on, asked him, Must you? I pray take it; and threw him the keys of his treasury, out of his pocket; whereat his son was wonderfully out of countenance, and abashed (being otherwise ever a dutiful and respectful son to his father) replied: ‘Sir, the word was out before I was aware, I do not intend to put it in force; I pray will you put up your key again?’
“To which the Marquis returned his son these words. ‘Truly, son, I shall think my keys not safe in my pocket, whilst you have so many swords by your side; nor that I have the command of my house whilst you have so many officers in it; nor that I am at my own disposal, whilst you have so many commanders.’
“My Lord (replied the son), I do not intend that they shall stay in the castle, I mean they shall be gone.
“I pray let them (said the Marquis), and have care that must do not stay behind.
“Whereat, after my Lord Herbert was gone out of the room, there were some who, as mannerly as they could, blamed the Marquis for his too much severity to his son, after that he had seen him express so much of sorrow for that over-slip; whereupon the Marquis replied:—‘Hark ye, if my son be dejected, I can raise him when I please; but it is a question, if he should once take a head, whether I could bring him lower when I list. Ned was not wont to use such courtship to me, and I believe he intended a better word for his father; but must was for the King.’”[23]