“Of course not,” said Lady Bellingham, with amused pity.
“Then might I ask,” said Mr. Bent, “what exactly we are to understand by Nature?”
“Nature,” replied Lady Bellingham, “is impossible to define. It is too vast, too varied. But, roughly speaking, whatever is beautiful is natural, and whatever is ugly is unnatural.”
“I see,” said Mr. Bent.
Then Sir Philip Whaley, who had long been chafing under an enforced silence, took up his parable and spoke. Sir Philip possessed, in an unusual degree, the charm of English oratory—the gift, that is, of emphasising and repeating the obvious and connecting his rounded phrases with ornamental “ums” and “ers.”
“You must look at education,” he began, “from what I venture to call the business point of view. You schoolmasters are too inclined, if you will forgive me for saying so, to ignore, to leave out of account, the—um—er—the business point of view. But, if you are going to think Imperially, if, that is, you are going to think in terms of Empire, in terms, I say, of Empire, you cannot leave the business point of view out of account—um—er—you must take it into your calculations. For, behind the Imperial problem, lies the business problem. We city men are familiar with this truth; it is a matter of common knowledge amongst us; but it is one of the things that you schoolmasters, if you will pardon me for saying so, are inclined to leave out of account.”
“You are forgetting Nature,” interrupted Lady Bellingham.
“Pardon me, madam,” replied Sir Philip, “I am not forgetting Nature, but I am looking at it from the practical point of view—from what I have ventured to call the business point of view. Let me give you a concrete instance of what I mean.” Here Sir Philip dropped his voice to a confidential tone. “When I have a post in my office to fill—I am speaking, mind you, of a post with prospects attached to it, a real chance for a young fellow—um—er—well, what kind of a man do I want to fill it? A scholar? No. A man who can read Homer and write Latin verses? No. I am saying nothing against Homer as Homer, mark you, but I am considering the thing from the practical point of view. What I want is a man who has learned shorthand and can write commercial French—um—er—and I don’t find him—that’s the point—I don’t find him in the public schools or the universities; as often as not I am obliged in the end to bring in a foreigner—a German. That’s where the Germans are ahead of us. Well, there you have it in a nutshell. The public schools of England are not seriously training their boys to take their proper place in the business life of the Empire; and the Germans are. That,” he concluded, bringing his fist down on the table in front of him, “that is what I mean by saying that you ought to look at education from the business point of view. I hope I have made myself clear.”
Sir Philip wiped his brow and looked around with a complacent smile. The headmaster, whose face while the city oracle was speaking had been a study, made no comment; but Mr. Bent leaned forward with knitted brows and began:
“I have been much interested in what Sir Philip Whaley has been telling us, but I am not sure whether I interpret him correctly. Do I understand him to say that he wishes shorthand and commercial French to form a necessary part of the school curriculum?”