“Is he going to read or write or speak these languages?”
“Then what is the strange and peculiar benefit of them?”
“What will my ward know about Africa when you have done with him?”
“What will he know about India? Are there any Indian boys here?”
“What will he know about Garibaldi and Italy? About engineering? About Darwin?”
“Will he be able to write good English?”
“Do your boys do much German? Russian? Spanish or Hindustani?”
“Will he know anything about the way the Royal Exchange affects the Empire? But why shouldn’t he understand the elementary facts of finance and currency? Why shouldn’t every citizen understand what a pound sterling really means? All our everyday life depends on that. What do you teach about Socialism? Nothing! Did you say Nothing? But he may be a member of Parliament some day. Anyhow he’ll be a voter.”
“But if you can’t teach him everything why not leave out these damned classics of yours?”...
The record of an irritable man seeking the impossible is not to be dwelt upon too closely. During his search for the boys’ school that has yet to exist, Oswald gave way to some unhappy impulses; he made himself distressing and exasperating to quite a number of people. From the first his attitude to scholastic agents was hostile and uncharitable. His appearance made them nervous and defensive from the outset, more particularly the fierce cocking of his hat and the red intensity of his eye. He came in like an accusation rather than an application.