which she would give anything to placate in him。 They were two
very separate beings； vitally connected； knowing nothing of each
other； yet living in their separate ways from one root。
There were four sons and two daughters。 The eldest boy ran
away early to sea； and did not e back。 After this the mother
was more the node and centre of attraction in the home。 The
second boy； Alfred； whom the mother admired most； was the most
reserved。 He was sent to school in Ilkeston and made some
progress。 But in spite of his dogged； yearning effort； he could
not get beyond the rudiments of anything； save of drawing。 At
this； in which he had some power； he worked； as if it were his
hope。 After much grumbling and savage rebellion against
everything； after much trying and shifting about； when his
father was incensed against him and his mother almost
despairing； he became a draughtsman in a lace…factory in
Nottingham。
He remained heavy and somewhat uncouth； speaking with broad
Derbyshire accent； adhering with all his tenacity to his work
and to his town position； making good designs； and being
fairly well…off。 But at drawing； his hand swung naturally in
big； bold lines； rather lax； so that it was cruel for him to
pedgill away at the lace designing； working from the tiny
squares of his paper； counting and plotting and niggling。 He did
it stubbornly； with anguish； crushing the bowels within him；
adhering to his chosen lot whatever it should cost。 And he came
back into life set and rigid； a rare…spoken； almost surly
man。
He married the daughter of a chemist； who affected some
social superiority； and he became something of a snob； in his
dogged fashion； with a passion for outward refinement in the
household； mad when anything clumsy or gross occurred。 Later；
when his three children were growing up； and he seemed a staid；
almost middle…aged man； he turned after strange women； and
became a silent； inscrutable follower of forbidden pleasure；
neglecting his indignant bourgeois 。
Frank； the third son； refused from the first to have anything
to do with learning。 From the first he hung round the
slaughter…house which stood away in the third yard at the back
of the farm。 The Brangwens had always killed their own meat； and
supplied the neighbourhood。 Out of this grew a regular butcher's
business in connection with the farm。
As a child Frank had been drawn by the trickle of dark blood
that ran across the pavement from the slaughter…house to the
crew…yard； by the sight of the man carrying across to the
meat…shed a huge side of beef； with the kidneys showing；
embedded in their heavy laps of fat。
He was a handsome lad with soft brown hair and regular
features something like a later Roman youth。 He was more easily
excitable； more readily carried away than the rest； weaker in
character。 At eighteen he married a little factory girl； a pale；
plump； quiet thing with sly eyes and a wheedling voice； who
insinuated herself into him and bore him a child every year and
made a fool of him。 When he had taken over the butchery
business； already a growing callousness to it； and a sort of
contempt made him neglectful of it。 He drank； and was often to
be found in his public house blathering away as if he knew
everything； when in reality he was a noisy fool。
Of the daughters； Alice； the elder； married a collier and
lived for a time stormily in Ilkeston； before moving away to
Yorkshire with her numerous young family。 Effie； the younger；
remained at home。
The last child； Tom； was considerably younger than his
brothers； so had belonged rather to the pany of his sisters。
He was his mother's favourite。 She roused herself to
determination； and sent him forcibly away to a grammar…school in
Derby when he was twelve years old。 He did not want to go； and
his father would have given way； but Mrs。 Brangwen had set her
heart on it。 Her slender； pretty； tightly…covered body； with
full skirts； was now the centre of resolution in the house； and
when she had once set upon anything； which was not often； the
family failed before her。
So Tom went to school； an unwilling failure from the first。
He believed his mother was right in decreeing school for him；
but he knew she was only right because she would not acknowledge
his constitution。 He knew； with a child's deep； instinctive
foreknowledge of what is going to happen to him； that he would
cut a sorry figure at school。 But he took the infliction as
inevitable； as if he were guilty of his own nature； as if his
being were wrong； and his mother's conception right。 If he could
have been what he liked； he would have been that which his
mother fondly but deludedly hoped he was。 He would have been
clever； and capable of being a gentleman。 It was her
aspiration for him； therefore he knew it as the true aspiration
for any boy。 But you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear；
as he told his mother very early； with regard to himself； much
to her mortification and chagrin。
When he got to school； he made a violent struggle against his
physical inability to study。 He sat gripped； making himself pale
and ghastly in his effort to concentrate on the book； to take in
what he had to learn。 But it was no good。 If he beat down his
first repulsion； and got like a suicide to the stuff； he went
very little further。 He could not learn deliberately。 His mind
simply did not work。
In feeling he was developed； sensitive to the atmosphere
around him； brutal perhaps； but at the same time delicate； very
delicate。 So he had a low opinion of himself。 He knew his own
limitation。 He knew that his brain was a slow hopeless
good…for…nothing。 So he was humble。
But at the same time his feelings were more discriminating
than those of most of the boys； and he was confused。 He was more
sensuously developed； more refined in instinct than they。 For
their mechanical stupidity he hated them； and suffered cruel
contempt for them。 But when it came to mental things； then he
was at a disadvantage。 He was at their mercy。 He was a fool。 He
had not the power to controvert even the most stupid argument；
so that he was forced to admit things he did not in the least
believe。 And having admitted them； he did not know whether he
believed them or not； he rather thought he did。
But he loved anyone who could convey enlightenment to him
through feeling。 He sat betrayed with emotion when the teacher
of literature read； in a moving fashion； Tennyson's 〃Ulysses〃；
or Shelley's 〃Ode to the West Wind〃。 His lips parted； his eyes
filled with a strained； almost suffering light。 And the teacher
read on； fired by his power over the boy。 Tom Brangwen was moved
by this experience beyond all calculation； he almost dreaded it；
it was so deep。 But when； almost secretly and shamefully； he
came to take the book himself； and began the words 〃Oh wild west
wind； thou breath of autumn's being；〃 the very fact of the print
caused a prickly sensation of repulsion to go over his skin； the
blood came to his face； his heart filled with a bursting passion
of rage and inpetence。 He threw the book down and walked over
it and went out to the cricket field。 And he hated books as if
they were his enemies。 He hated them worse than ever he hated
any person。
He could not voluntarily control his attention。 His mind had
no fixed habits to go by； he had nothing to get hold of； nowhere
to start from。 For him there was nothing palpable； nothing known
in himself； that he could apply to learning。 He did not know how
to begin。 Therefore he was helpless when it came to deliberate
understanding or deliberate learning。
He had an instinct for mathematics； but if this failed him；
he was helpless as an idiot。 So that he felt that the ground was
never sure under his feet； he was nowhere。 His final downfall
was his plete inability to attend to a question put without
suggestion。 If he had to write a formal position on the Army；
he did at last learn to repeat the few facts he knew： 〃You can
join the army at eighteen。 You have to be over five foot eight。〃
But he had all the time a living conviction that this was a
dodge and that his mon…places were beneath contempt。 Then he
reddened furiously； felt his bow