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something in the real position style； failed； became sullen
with rage and humiliation； put the pen down and would have been
torn to pieces rather than attempt to write another word。
He soon got used to the Grammar School； and the Grammar
School got used to him； setting him down as a hopeless duffer at
learning； but respecting him for a generous； honest nature。 Only
one narrow； domineering fellow； the Latin master； bullied him
and made the blue eyes mad with shame and rage。 There was a
horrid scene； when the boy laid open the master's head with a
slate； and then things went on as before。 The teacher got little
sympathy。 But Brangwen winced and could not bear to think of the
deed； not even long after； when he was a grown man。
He was glad to leave school。 It had not been unpleasant； he
had enjoyed the panionship of the other youths； or had
thought he enjoyed it； the time had passed very quickly； in
endless activity。 But he knew all the time that he was in an
ignominious position； in this place of learning。 He was aware of
failure all the while； of incapacity。 But he was too healthy and
sanguine to be wretched； he was too much alive。 Yet his soul was
wretched almost to hopelessness。
He had loved one warm； clever boy who was frail in body； a
consumptive type。 The two had had an almost classic friendship；
David and Jonathan； wherein Brangwen was the Jonathan； the
server。 But he had never felt equal with his friend； because the
other's mind outpaced his； and left him ashamed； far in the
rear。 So the two boys went at once apart on leaving school。 But
Brangwen always remembered his friend that had been； kept him as
a sort of light； a fine experience to remember。
Tom Brangwen was glad to get back to the farm； where he was
in his own again。 〃I have got a turnip on my shoulders； let me
stick to th' fallow；〃 he said to his exasperated mother。 He had
too low an opinion of himself。 But he went about at his work on
the farm gladly enough； glad of the active labour and the smell
of the land again； having youth and vigour and humour； and a
ic wit； having the will and the power to fet his own
shortings； finding himself violent with occasional rages； but
usually on good terms with everybody and everything。
When he was seventeen； his father fell from a stack and broke
his neck。 Then the mother and son and daughter lived on at the
farm； interrupted by occasional loudmouthed lamenting；
jealousspirited visitations from the butcher Frank； who had a
grievance against the world； which he felt was always giving him
less than his dues。 Frank was particularly against the young
Tom； whom he called a mardy baby； and Tom returned the hatred
violently； his face growing red and his blue eyes staring。 Effie
sided with Tom against Frank。 But when Alfred came； from
Nottingham； heavy jowled and lowering； speaking very little； but
treating those at home with some contempt； Effie and the mother
sided with him and put Tom into the shade。 It irritated the
youth that his elder brother should be made something of a hero
by the women； just because he didn't live at home and was a
lacedesigner and almost a gentleman。 But Alfred was something
of a Prometheus Bound； so the women loved him。 Tom came later to
understand his brother better。
As youngest son； Tom felt some importance when the care of
the farm devolved on to him。 He was only eighteen； but he was
quite capable of doing everything his father had done。 And of
course； his mother remained as centre to the house。
The young man grew up very fresh and alert； with zest for
every moment of life。 He worked and rode and drove to market； he
went out with panions and got tipsy occasionally and played
skittles and went to the little travelling theatres。 Once； when
he was drunk at a public house； he went upstairs with a
prostitute who seduced him。 He was then nieen。
The thing was something of a shock to him。 In the close
intimacy of the farm kitchen； the woman occupied the supreme
position。 The men deferred to her in the house； on all household
points； on all points of morality and behaviour。 The woman was
the symbol for that further life which prised religion and
love and morality。 The men placed in her hands their own
conscience； they said to her 〃Be my consciencekeeper； be the
angel at the doorway guarding my outgoing and my ining。〃 And
the woman fulfilled her trust； the men rested implicitly in her；
receiving her praise or her blame with pleasure or with anger；
rebelling and storming； but never for a moment really escaping
in their own souls from her prerogative。 They depended on her
for their stability。 Without her； they would have felt like
straws in the wind； to be blown hither and thither at random。
She was the anchor and the security； she was the restraining
hand of God； at times highly to be execrated。
Now when Tom Brangwen； at nieen； a youth fresh like a
plant； rooted in his mother and his sister； found that he had
lain with a prostitute woman in a mon public house； he was
very much startled。 For him there was until that time only one
kind of womanhis mother and sister。
But now？ He did not know what to feel。 There was a slight
wonder； a pang of anger； of disappointment； a first taste of ash
and of cold fear lest this was all that would happen； lest his
relations with woman were going to be no more than this
nothingness； there was a slight sense of shame before the
prostitute； fear that she would despise him for his
inefficiency； there was a cold distaste for her； and a fear of
her； there was a moment of paralyzed horror when he felt he
might have taken a disease from her； and upon all this startled
tumult of emotion； was laid the steadying hand of mon sense；
which said it did not matter very much； so long as he had no
disease。 He soon recovered balance； and really it did not matter
so very much。
But it had shocked him； and put a mistrust into his heart；
and emphasized his fear of what was within himself。 He was；
however； in a few days going about again in his own careless；
happygolucky fashion； his blue eyes just as clear and honest
as ever； his face just as fresh； his appetite just as keen。
Or apparently so。 He had； in fact； lost some of his buoyant
confidence； and doubt hindered his outgoing。
For some time after this； he ore conscious when
he drank； more backward from panionship。 The disillusion of
his first carnal contact with woman； strengthened by his innate
desire to find in a woman the embodiment of all his
inarticulate； powerful religious impulses； put a bit in his
mouth。 He had something to lose which he was afraid of losing；
which he was not sure even of possessing。 This first affair did
not matter much： but the business of love was； at the bottom of
his soul； the most serious and terrifying of all to him。
He was tormented now with sex desire； his imagination
reverted always to lustful scenes。 But what really prevented his
returning to a loose woman； over and above the natural
squeamishness； was the recollection of the paucity of the last
experience。 It had been so nothing； so dribbling and functional；
that he was ashamed to expose himself to the risk of a
repetition of it。
He made a strong； instinctive fight to retain his native
cheerfulness unimpaired。 He had naturally a plentiful stream of
life and humour； a sense of sufficiency and exuberance； giving
ease。 But now it tended to cause tension。 A strained light came
into his eyes； he had a slight knitting of the brows。 His
boisterous humour gave place to lowering silences； and days
passed by in a sort of suspense。
He did not know there was any difference in him； exactly； for
the most part he was filled with slow anger and resentment。 But
he knew he was always thinking of women； or a woman； day in； day
out； and that infuriated him。 He could not get free： and he was
ashamed。 He had one or two sweethearts； starting with them in
the hope of speedy development。 But when he had a nice girl； he
found that he was incapable of pushing the desired development。
The very presence of the girl beside him made it impossible。 He
could not think of her like that； he could not think of her
actual nakedness。 She was a