A Glastonbury Romance by John Cowper Powys

Author:John Cowper Powys [Powys, John Cowper]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: British Literature, Fantasy, Romance, Classics, Philosophy
ISBN: 9781999330811
Publisher: The Powys Society
Published: 2019-05-10T23:00:00+00:00

"Tell her—'all that's reasonable,' " pronounced Mr. Geard emphatically.

Elphin's blue eyes deepened in colour till they grew nearly black. Then brushing some dust from his legs, thin as matches, —those poor emaciated legs that were the fons et origo of this big tent—he lifted up his face. "Mother will understand. Mother thanks you from her heart, your Worship! Come, Father!" he added.

Dickery Cantle followed Elphin into the tent, as did also Steve Lew, bestowing on the Mayor before he departed a final glance of fanatical devotion.

The green-wheeled dog-cart drove off now. It encircled the seated audience from whose throats excited and vociferous applause was now arising as the King and Queen with their great golden crowns upon their heads rose from their thrones and moved to the side of the Lady of Shalott.

The movement of the Dye-Works factory-hands, with their protestant allies and their secular banners, had not been missed by Mr. Geard. All the way down that hillside—as he was racing to the rescue of the Marquis—he was thinking desperately how to cope with this menacing invasion. He could catch, as Blimp trotted his horse along the edge of the vast concourse of people, the constant murmurs of "Order! Order! Hush! Hush!" addressed to these men, who continued to talk loudly among themselves, even though the poles of their banners were now planted in the earth. When they came level with the row of seats at the end of which sat Mother Legge, Mr. Geard called upon Blimp to pull up. Here they waited, watching for the close of the scene on the grassy stage above. It was near the end. After a second or two of waiting, it ended, and the play-actors, well contented with the ovations they had just received, marched off to their respective pavilions.

A general buzz of excited talk ran through the whole mass of people. The dog-cart had drawn up close to where Mrs. Legge and Blackie Morgan were sitting. Between their horse's head and the ends of the first five rows of seats was the back of a banner, the poles of which rested on the grass, carrying the words, "Down with Mummery!" These words Mr. Geard now contemplated, as he acknowledged the salutations of the people near enough to recognise him. Mother Legge herself made an airy gesture with her black-gloved hand, that was almost as if she kissed the tips of her fingers to the Mayor of Glastonbury, and many of the seated crowd looked towards him and nodded towards him as they continued their boisterous clapping, as if directing their applause to the organiser of the performance as much as to the players.

The crowd of Dye-Works strikers was obviously ill at ease at this juncture. The big audience behind them had time now to concentrate their attention on these men, whose banners, "Down with Religion!" "Down with Capital!" "Down with Mummery!" flapped beside them in the warm summer wind. Several of Philip's policemen were now standing about, surveying these revolutionary scrolls with humorous detachment, but Mr.

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