Rhodes' will granted two scholarships to Canada and one to Newfoundland. The latter was still a separate British territory and did not officially become a Canadian province until 1949.
37. Quoted in Rotberg, The Founder, 663.
38. Williams in TAO, 81 (1994): 12.
39. TAO, 80 (1993): 245.
GETTING STARTED
Having discussed the matter with many Oxford men, I have not the least hesitation in saying that the Colonials and Americans who may benefit under Mr. Rhodes' Will may rest assured that Oxford will offer them a hearty welcome.
Letter to the editor, Varsity, 29 April 1902
We cannot quite agree with Mr. Rhodes' policy of encouraging the influx of transatlantic Anglo-Saxons into this country. The pushful Yank may be fond of us (if he is, he manages to conceal it fairly well), but we never knew an instance of his visiting our shores without pocketing a good pile of the less nimble Britisher's money before returning home. In view of this, it seems at first blush a trifle rash to pay others to come and continue the practice.
Article by an Oxford student, Isis, 3 May 1902
Reactions to the Will
The Rhodes Scholarship today is certainly the most famous and most prestigious student award in the United States – and perhaps the world. Each year's crop of new scholars is lionized in the national press and even more in each student's college and home-town newspapers. Winning one of these coveted prizes is often considered to be a ticket to success in later life.
Yet in 1902 when Cecil Rhodes' bequest became known, the reception was decidedly mixed on both sides of the Atlantic. Newspapers and magazines across the United States and Britain lauded Rhodes' vision and generosity but questioned the wisdom of the scholarship plan.1
Most Oxford administrators and dons were flattered that their institution had been singled out in the will. They groused, however, that the money would have been better spent if Rhodes had simply donated it all to the university. Only £100,000 went directly to the university, and it was restricted to Rhodes' alma mater, Oriel. Even worse, several persons noted that the arrival of dozens of new foreign students each year would place a financial burden on the colleges. The scholarship would pay for each student's fees (including room and board), but the amount charged to each student was actually less then the cost of educating and housing them. To make up the difference, the colleges relied on their endowments. Several members of the university discreetly mentioned this to the Rhodes Trustees and expressed the hope that the latter would in the years to come make contributions above the ordinary expenses of each student.2
Many other dons and students voiced more serious misgivings. Some joked that these “perfect men” would be too good for the mere mortals of Oxford. They feared that the oldest university in the English-speaking world was about to be invaded by a horde of cowboy barbarians. Several dons complained that the scholarships would bring an end to Latin and Greek studies, which were the pride of the university. Every applicant had to pass an examination (called Responsions) in both these languages plus mathematics, before being admitted to one of the colleges. Rhodes Scholars from abroad, especially those from the vast American wilderness, would certainly be deficient in classical studies and would thus contribute to a lowering of standards. One writer expostulated that without Greek in Oxford “the human mind will decay” and feared that civilization everywhere would descend into chaos.3
Numerous other critics asserted that uncouth American yahoos would not only lower academic standards but also endanger the lives of serious students. Through their brute strength these frontiersmen would dominate college sports – thereby destroying the chances of ordinary British students to compete in healthful amateur athletic contests. One Oriel don consoled himself with the thought that American savages would be so busy on the sports fields that at least they would have little impact on the rest of college life.4 The Oxford Union, the oldest student debating society in the world, discussed a motion to condemn the scholarships. The motion was defeated, but it revealed that a sizable proportion of the student body had doubts about the plan.5
One Oxford magazine, Varsity, printed cartoons depicting the American invasion. The newcomers were pictured organizing formal cheering at rugby matches (unheard of in British amateur sports), setting up lunch counters to serve buckwheat cakes, lynching the dons, and turning part of the university library into a skyscraper.6
Americans might have taken some comfort from the fact that these critics also expressed similar misgivings about Rhodes Scholars coming from elsewhere. Isis, a student publication, lampooned Australians as good-for-nothings who badly needed education. The university's Public Orator feared an outbreak of boomerang throwing in the quads. Varsity warned that a handful of German Rhodes Scholars would initiate a Teutonic invasion. A poem in Oxford Magazine feared that some of the arriving colonials would be primitive head-hunters set on decapitating the dons or “mussulmen” who would insist on bringing along their “thirty-seven moon-eyed wives.”7
In the United States the response to the will likewise was divided, but for different reasons. Most newspapers and magazines were mildly favorable. Only a handful of writers were enthusiastic. One of these was Louis Dyer, whose article in The Outlook expressed the hope that the program would foster further international student exchanges and help the United States to fulfill the Renaissance dream of a “Republic of Letters.”8
Many American academic and business leaders were dubious. Several university presidents said that students would be better off studying at American universities. This was especially true for those interested in science, an area in which even Oxford admitted it lagged far behind the better American institutions. Moreover, several university presidents noted that Oxford was still primarily an undergraduate teaching institution. Only in the 1890s had it instituted some advanced degrees, which did not as yet include a doctorate.
Harvard President Charles William Eliot suggested that Rhodes Scholars would benefit much more if they studied in German universities. Stanford President David Starr Jordan resigned himself to the existence of the program by noting that “the chief value of a scholarship at Oxford is the opportunity of studying in Germany during the vacation.”9 The universities there were reputed to be the best in Europe, especially for students pursuing doctorates. Thousands of Americans had already obtained advanced degrees in Berlin, Heidelberg, and elsewhere – compared to a much smaller number of Americans in Oxford and Cambridge. Most of the founders and early leaders of the American Historical Association in the 1880s and 1890s, for example, were products of German universities. As American universities expanded in the twentieth century, they would mostly follow German models. (It should be noted that within a few years, except for Eliot, Jordan and most other college officials surrendered their doubts and became ardent proponents of the Rhodes Scholarships.)
Other Americans raised yet additional objections. Some claimed that virile young men would be corrupted by the effete, sterile classicism of Oxford. The number of Anglophobes in the United States was higher than usual when the will was made public, owing to the Boer War. Many Americans thus objected to any scheme that would foster closer relations with Britain and perhaps even weaken the patriotism of young Americans for their native country. Andrew Carnegie stoutly proclaimed that no young Americans would even want the scholarships. Americans, he said, were interested in money and could not afford to postpone their careers
