“I must now,” he said, “ask you to excuse me. The representatives of my College are about to play a football match in the Parks: and although the game is one with the rules of which I have never been able to familiarize myself, and in which, between ourselves, I take no interest whatever, I conceive that my absence from the crowd of spectators might
well loosen that sympathy between myself and the junior members of the College, without which they must infallibly meet the fate of the man who reads his books for himself and neglects the dictation of his Tutor. Moreover, I have to spend the later part of the afternoon in reading the Cr--, I should say, the admirable and scholarly version of Professor Jebb—to three Commoners who are taking up Sophocles for Honour Moderations.”
“Your day,” I said, “seems indeed to be somewhat occupied. Let me at least hope that the work which you are doing will win you the applause of the learned, and a place among the Educationists of the century.”
* * * * *
On leaving Feedingspoon, it happened that the first man whom I met was Fadmonger, the Fadmonger, the one with a Continental reputation. He had been ordered to play golf in the morning, and was returning from the links. As we walked together towards the North of Oxford, I was about to repeat to him the substance of my conversation with Feedingspoon. But on my mentioning the latter’s name, Fadmonger interposed, and said that he really could not trust himself to speak on that subject. He then discoursed upon it at great
length, using the most violent language about Obscurantism, Packed Boards, the Tutorial Profession, Sacrifice of Research to Examination, Frivolous Aims and Obsolete Methods, and the like.
“What,” he cried indignantly, “are we to think of a curriculum—so called—which includes the Republic of Plato and excludes the Onomasticon of Julius Pollux?”
“Assuredly,” I replied, “there can be only one opinion about it.”
“Exactly,” he said; “you are one of the few sensible men I know. Our methods, I can tell you, are getting us into serious discredit abroad. I should just like you to hear the things which are said about Literæ Humaniores by Professor Jahaleel Q. Potsherds of Johns Hopkins, and Doctor Grabenrauber of Weissnichtwo. They think very little of this University at Johns Hopkins.”
“Indeed,” I said; “I am pained to hear it.”