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Chapter 5

THE SCHOLAR-ATHLETES

[An American Rhodes Scholar] has been reading for honours, and I [could] never wish for a more satisfactory pupil. His essays were always thorough, thoughtful, and well expressed. His work showed a rare combination of originality and ingenuity with sound judgment and common sense. In college life he was a strong influence, and always for good. Taking him all round, we have had no better man in college since he has been with us, and few as good.

Oxford don, 1911, New York Times

As to the American Rhodes Scholars, I am much impressed by the men personally. They are above the average, I think, as regards keenness and industry. I should describe them as thoroughly good fellows, but I do not think they compare with the better average undergraduates as regards scholarship and training…they seem very deficient in scholarship in a wider sense. Some are terribly rough intellectually, with little or no literary sense and very limited command over expression. In the composition of an English essay they have, as a rule, almost everything to learn.

Oxford don, 1911, New York Times

Sports

When Rhodes' will was first made public, many Britons anticipated that the chief benefit to Oxford would be the addition of hearty Americans to its sports teams. Some Oxonians even hoped that the Americans would help to establish permanent dominance over Cambridge. The Americans would be slightly older, larger, stronger, and more experienced than the average undergraduate.

Virtually every American did join at least one of his college teams. Rhodes Scholars unanimously praised the amateur spirit of English athletics. Sports in American universities were already becoming big business, spectator affairs, with highly paid professional coaches and rigorous training programs. Rhodes Scholars echoed Teddy Roosevelt, who bemoaned the win-at-all cost attitude and the high number of injuries and deaths incurred in American football.¹

The key words in British university sports were amateurism and participation. The coaches were unpaid students. The ideal was that every able-bodied student play on one or more of his college's teams in matches against the other colleges. There was no desire for large numbers of spectators. One played for exercise, for fun, for camaraderie, and for the vigor to resist the cool temperatures that were the norm both indoors and outdoors. The very best athletes from all the colleges were selected for the all-university squads that faced the Cantabs (i.e., Cambridge) each year in the varsity matches.

The Americans were not expected to help much in the sports unfamiliar to them – especially cricket. However, each year they did make significant contributions in rowing, track and field, tennis, and rugby. Dozens of the early Rhodes Scholars won blues or half-blues or were captains of their college teams.² The most illustrious was Lawrence Hull (1907), who led the Oxford track team against Cambridge in 1909. He won the quarter-mile and the hundred-yard dash, despite pain from a recently sprained ankle. His athletic feats and friendly personality made him a hero, and one of his fellow Americans reported that the British were eating out of his hand. In 1910 he served as president of the Oxford University Athletics Club.³

Nevertheless, there was a down side to these successes. Though Americans as a whole never came to dominate any sports in this early period, many British students and journalists thought that the upstart newcomers had an unfair advantage. The ordinary British public schoolboy had little chance against these older, ruthless behemoths.⁴ Harold Merriam (1904) was branded “daucedly ungentlemanly” for tackling an opposing player in a rugby match.⁵ In response to such criticisms, the colleges banded together in 1914 to impose restrictions on Rhodes Scholars in sports. These new rules did not specifically mention Rhodes Scholars, but they were clearly the target. Thereafter no student who had attended another university prior to Oxford could participate in “freshers” sports. This would prevent eighteen-year-old Britons from having to compete against much older Rhodes Scholars. Furthermore, no student over the age of twenty-four could compete in any sport whatsoever.⁶

Lawrence Hull himself, by that time back in the United States, admitted the justice of these rules. He added, however, that the fear of Americans dominating British amateur sports was terribly overblown. “The simple fact,” he said, “is that the American Rhodes Scholars have not come up to expectations in athletics.”⁷ Only about one American per year earned a blue. The only sport where Americans were consistently among the leaders was track.

The controversy over the 1914 regulations soon subsided, and in general the Americans' athletic contributions were heartily appreciated.

Academic Performance

For most Americans, academic studies in Oxford ranked third, trailing social life and sports. For evidence of this one can consult early issues of the two quarterly magazines that they published. After Earle Murray (1904) returned home in 1907, he thought it would be a grand idea if Rhodes Scholars maintained contact with one another throughout their careers. He immediately began publishing the Alumni Magazine. That venture was modest and never became the thriving enterprise he had anticipated. Losing enthusiasm for the project, Murray ceased publication in 1913. The following year, however, Frank Aydelotte determined to revive the idea and to establish a full-fledged alumni association. The new journal was The American Oxonian, and he mailed it to every scholar returning from Oxford. Each person also automatically became a member of the Alumni Association of American Rhodes Scholars (the word Alumni was later dropped). Thanks to Aydelotte's unflagging zeal, the journal and the association would flourish to the present day. If one looks at the Alumni Magazine and early issues of The American Oxonian, one sees that far fewer than half of the pages concern the academic side of life in Oxford.

How did the Rhodes Scholars perform as “scholars”? In view of the difficulty in the early years of recruiting large numbers of applicants and the busy social and athletic lives that they led once they arrived in Oxford, it is not surprising that their academic record was decidedly uneven.

In fact, the academic performance by American Rhodes Scholars in general was a distinct disappointment, both to British and American observers and to the Rhodes Scholars themselves. The final results for the class of 1904 were as follows: seven read in their fields but did not obtain degrees; one took a pass degree; one obtained a diploma (for a course of study not leading to a full degree); one took an advanced degree (the B.Sc.); three obtained Fourths; twelve got Thirds; eleven achieved Seconds; and six were awarded Firsts.⁸

This was distinctly below the level of performance of the top British students (those in Oxford on scholarships). It was, however, about the same level of performance as the average Oxford student. Yet one must also recall that prior to the Second World War the caliber of the average Oxford student was not stellar; providing that one came from the right sort of family or attended the right kind of public school, one could gain entry. Rhodes Scholars, who were “perfect” men, chosen through rigorous competitions, were supposed to be far above the average.

Their record remained lackluster through the 1920s. In all approximately fourteen percent obtained Firsts, compared with twenty-seven percent of British scholarship students.⁹ Again and again the pages of the Alumni Magazine and The American Oxonian lamented the poor showing of Rhodes Scholars or offered excuses to explain it. The inaugural issue of the Alumni Magazine in 1907 admitted that much improvement was needed but pleaded that the results “are all that can be expected from the pioneers.” It boldly (and inaccurately) predicted that by 1920 all Rhodes Scholars would take Firsts.¹⁰ The first issue of the American Oxonian appeared in April 1914 and featured an article by an Oxford don named Sidney Ball. He was a fellow of St. John's College, and his article was entitled “Oxford's Opinion of Rhodes Scholars.” Regarding their academic record, he diplomatically said that it was “goodish” rather than first-rate.¹¹

A report commissioned by the Carnegie Foundation in 1911 was more blunt. The study quoted dozens of Oxford dons. In a couple of instances the tutors acknowledged that a small number of the Americans were first-rate. The other Rhodes Scholars were generally regarded as pleasant but equal only to the average Oxford student. The tutors' comments included the following: one American had “not been properly taught” in the United States; the newcomers were “typical Americans” (this was not meant as a compliment); the Americans were “restless and volatile” and could not settle down to hard work; they suffered from a “curious superficiality of training” and in some cases were “singularly uneducated” or had linguistic attainments that were “slender.”¹²

George Parkin himself had to deal with the issue in public. The most that he could say on behalf of his American charges was that, although their record contained few marked successes, at least there were few who failed their exams. On several occasions he beseeched American universities to do more to advertise the program and improve the numbers and the quality of the applicants, so that Rhodes Scholars would indeed be the pick of each year's crop.¹³

To be fair, one must remember that for each American who got a Fourth or a failure there was at least one who got a First. In addition, each year one or two successfully completed a thesis and obtained an advanced degree (a B.Sc. or B.Litt). There were also a couple each year who received some of the prestigious prizes and awards distributed by the colleges.

Why, however, did most of these early scholars not meet expectations? Part of the reason was that expectations were too high. Anything less than all of them gaining Firsts was bound to provide fodder to critics. Another problem was that the Americans indeed were restless and volatile. Like a majority of Americans in that period, most of them had come from small towns, and few had traveled widely. Arriving in a foreign land for the first time, they did not want to stay cooped up in their rooms or in libraries and laboratories for the next three years. They wanted to see and do everything.

This included travel. The pioneer Rhodes Scholars, like their successors today, were encouraged by the Oxford Secretary to leave Oxford during the winter, spring, and summer vacations. Future world leaders, after all, needed a broad range of experiences. The vacation periods took up more than half of the year. Provided that one was frugal in Oxford or had a private source of income (usually one's family), a Rhodes Scholar could travel widely. Hardly any missed this opportunity, and most of them visited five or more European countries before returning to the States.

Frank Aydelotte later remarked that many a Rhodes Scholar missed getting a First in his exams because of his extensive travels. This wanderlust was a major difference between the Americans and the British. The typical British student had already traveled widely in Britain and on the continent, and he knew that throughout his life he would have ample opportunities to continue such forays. In contrast, everything was new to the Americans, and they could not be sure when, or if, they could ever return. Their wanderings gave them many precious memories and broadened their cultural horizons, but also hurt their studies. To the typical Oxford student, the eight-week terms were a period of moderate study plus heavy doses of sports and socializing. Vacations for the British were the times when those who were serious about their work did most of their reading. A British student would go home with trunks full of books; if he did travel, he took his reading with him and holed up in scenic spots where he could spend his daylight hours studying. For most – though not all-Rhodes Scholars, however, travel and holidays were just that and no more. Hence, when they returned to Oxford for the next term they had made little progress in the huge reading lists they would have to master before “schools.”¹⁴

An additional reason for their relative lack of self-discipline was the newness of the tutorial system. Back home it was harder to slack off - one had quizzes, midterms, written assignments that received grades, and semester courses that had to be passed. But in Oxford a student was on one's own. Providing that one met his tutor each week and submitted a paper of at least minimal quality, one could coast for three years. Of course, the student who did this was unlikely to get a First or a Second in the one or two week's worth of essay examinations that came before graduation. Several Americans later admitted that they and many of their friends had not worked hard.¹⁵

The dons also presented problems for some students. The tutorial system was one of the glories of Oxford and Cambridge. Whereas in the American lecture system, a student could be a somnolent, passive receptacle into which a professor tried to pour knowledge, tutorials compelled a student to be responsible for his own learning. But, as noted, it could be disastrous if the mix between tutor and student was not congenial. The range of the Americans' experiences ran the entire length of the tutorial spectrum. One's tutor might be brilliant and friendly, or mediocre and antagonistic; intimidating or shy and quiet; bombastic or humble; gentle and constructive in his comments on a paper, or ruthless in his determination to destroy every thought and sentence; “normal” or eccentric in the extreme; passionately interested in the welfare of the students or supremely indifferent.

What the Americans often failed to realize was that if the dons were seemingly offensive or brutal, they were that way for the British students too. If a tutor disliked a student essay, it was expected that he say so and challenge the student to work harder or express himself more clearly. British students were already accustomed to this kind of treatment, but Americans came from a system where professors took more pains to find something positive to say about even the worst papers.

A handful of Americans formed immediate and lasting bonds with their tutors. William Fleet (1904) was mediocre as a student, receiving a Third in classics, but his tutor liked him so much that they vacationed together in Italy. One day while they were dining in an Italian restaurant another American entered – a large, loud, older man with rather rough language. Fleet felt embarrassed, got up, and asked his fellow countryman to stop bringing “discredit on our people.”¹⁶ Other Rhodes Scholars also traveled with their tutors. Most of them were also welcomed occasionally to their tutors' homes for afternoon tea. Finally, some tutors unfailingly offered the Americans tobacco and sherry during their weekly meetings.

There were many amusing incidents as the clash of competing cultures wound its way through these weekly sessions. One Rhodes Scholar in the class of 1907 warily made his way to his tutor's rooms for their initial conference. The don offered him a drink, only to discover that the American was a teetotaler. Then the don asked if his charge would have a smoke. The youth responded, “No, thank you. I never smoke, either.” “Well, what do you do?” asked the perplexed don, “You know, you must have some vice.” After a moment's embarrassed silence, the don happily found a solution. “I have it,” he exclaimed, “Do you chew chewing gum?” Happily, the student could admit to this bad habit. The don had no gum to offer him, for that commodity was still a novelty in England. Soon thereafter the student ordered a large supply from home and sent some to his tutor. The result was that the two became fast friends.¹⁷

John Crowe Ransom (1910) experienced one of the most awkward first encounters. He planned to read Literae Humaniores at Christ Church. His studies began this way:

And I was very confident, and I finally got to my philosophy tutor who was a very eminent philosopher named Blount. And he said, “Have you read any philosophy?” And I said, “Yes, I had two years of philosophy at college.” “What did you take?” And I said, “We took a course in deductive logic-Aristotelian logic.” And he said, “Whom did you read?” And I said, “We had a book by Noah K. Davis.” And he said, “Ah, I don't know the name; but did you do anything else?” And I said, “Well. we had a course in inductive logic.” And he said, “What did you read?” And I said, “We had a book by Noah K. Davis.” And he said, “A most ubiquitous man.” And then he said, “Did you take any other courses?” I said, “Yes, then we had a course in ethics.” And he said, “Whom did you read? But please don't say Noah K. Davis.” I said, “Noah K. Davis.” And he said, “My education is faulty. I don't know Noah K. Davis. But did you take any other courses?” I said, “Yes, then we had a course in psychology” And he said, “I can't bear it, but I feel that you had Noah K. Davis.” I said, “Yes.” And it was perfectly true that we had had Noah K. Davis, and no other philosopher, living or dead. And so he said, “Come to my rooms next Thursday evening at eight, and bring me an essay entitled, “What is Thought?”¹⁸

This widely read Davis was an author whose textbooks were used in all the philosophy courses that Ransom had taken at Vanderbilt University.

Ransom quickly adapted to the Oxford system and enjoyed a full life of study, sports, and socializing. He and his tutor quickly got over their rough start, and Ransom just missed getting a First in schools.

Others never got on well with their tutors. Ebb Ford (1905) was a droll, proud Mississippian who was not intimidated by his law tutor at Christ Church, a man named Carter. The two sparred verbally during Ford's first term, and the American was “gated” for insulting his tutor. Ford steadfastly refused to apologize. Somehow the two reestablished a working relationship, and Ford was awarded a First in jurisprudence. It galled him, however, when he learned that the tutor was bragging that one of his protégés had won such an honor.¹⁹

Carter would haunt many years' worth of Rhodes Scholars. Several decades later a Rhodes Scholar wrote in an obituary of his classmate, Robertson Paul, of the class of 1913:

He was reading Jurisprudence, and along with Valentine Havens (an equally keen youngster) met as his tutor Mr. Carter, one of the crustiest and most sardonic among the antediluvians of Christ Church. These two young bloodhounds from the backwoods set out on the trail of a savage old bear. No one could tell who had the better sport or who dealt the more sanguinary blows. But all three emerged victorious, for both pupils won first class honors.²⁰

In the case of these students, a tutor's intimidating manners apparently did spur them to do great work. In many other cases, however, the opposite resulted.

Warren Ault (1907) was generalizing, but nonetheless reflecting the view of perhaps half of the Americans, when he asserted that the dons were “unwelcoming, if not downright disdainful.”²¹

There were yet other reasons for the Americans' less than glittering academic performance. One was the education that they had received prior to arriving in Oxford. Many British observers, American educators, and Rhodes Scholars themselves concluded that the lackluster performance in Oxford was proof of the sorry state of American education. Rhodes Scholars who were twenty-two years old and had graduated with honors in some of America's best universities were having trouble keeping up with eighteen-year-old British freshers. A 1906 New York Times article on Rhodes Scholars reported that education in the U.S. was “mongrel.” Americans got a smattering of knowledge in a wide variety of areas but studied nothing in depth. Thus they were not prepared for serious work in Oxford.²²

Despite the jeremiads on both sides of the Atlantic about the condition of American schools and universities, a neutral observer can see that the problem was not that American education was inferior, but rather that it was different. American high schools and universities stressed giving students a well-rounded education. Regardless of his aptitudes, a student took courses in the natural and social sciences, the humanities, the fine arts, and even physical education. In British secondary schools students began to specialize in their last two years. Their studies in university were even more specialized. Thus a student entering an Oxford college in 1904 intending to study modern European history would already have been concentrating in that area for the previous two years. Furthermore, during his three years in Oxford that is all he would “read.” A new student planning to read French literature was expected already to be fluent in French and to have a good knowledge of the major writers. On the other hand, Rhodes Scholars arriving in Oxford with B.A.'s in hand from American universities would perhaps have spent only one-fourth of their time studying history, and that history would have included perhaps all periods and all parts of the world. Thus a twenty-two-year-old Rhodes Scholar hoping to read in modern European history would have far less background in the subject than his eighteen-year-old British rival.

This situation continues to the present day. There are advantages and disadvantages to each system. Americans are educated more widely but less deeply, whereas their British counterparts are trained more narrowly but more profoundly. Oxonians would argue, however, that their system is not as narrow as it might appear. The Oxford student in modern history can learn about other fields through the hothouse atmosphere of the college where he/she lives, eats, and socializes with students and dons from all the other disciplines. Furthermore, Oxonians would assert that the heavy stress on students training themselves to read, write, and analyze prepares them for all sorts of careers.

An additional problem that soon became apparent was that the great majority of Americans arriving in Oxford had already obtained B.A.'s in the United States. They did not “need” a second undergraduate degree – even if the Oxford undergraduate degree did oblige them to delve deeper into a subject than they had previously. A second B.A. was not going to add much to their résumés back home. Those who planned to obtain a Ph.D. or to attend law or medical school would be starting from scratch after they returned from Oxford. Their three years in Britain would not have counted toward the additional degrees needed for their careers.

Most Rhodes Scholars nevertheless chose to read for a B.A. in Oxford. Many were compelled to pursue studies in areas other than those they would have liked. George Parkin warned Rhodes Scholars that in the fields of chemistry, biology, and physics Oxford was not equal to the better American universities – though for Canadians and colonials Oxford was superior.²³ Edwin Hubble (1910), for example, chose to study jurisprudence though his real interest lay in astronomy. The situation in the social sciences was little better; sociology and psychology were still suspected of being newfangled and trendy. Engineering was just beginning as a subject for serious study, and there was no such thing as a course in business. Oxford was many things, but it would not stoop to being vocational! In addition, one could not read American history, for the dons insisted that the United States was too young to have enough history worth extended study. This dismissive attitude, however, was not the result of any cultural or nationalistic prejudices. Oxford treated recent British events in the same way – by ignoring them. In the early years of the twentieth century anyone who read “modern” history studied the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, with Napoleon being about as recent as most tutors would permit.

The fields most popular among Americans were law (jurisprudence), modern history, and English literature. Law in Oxford was an undergraduate field of study. One who aspired to become a barrister in Britain would obtain a B.A. in law and then study at one of the Inns of Court in London. Jurisprudence in Oxford differed markedly from what one encountered in American law schools, for in Britain it included heavy doses of history and Roman law.

Over the years American law and medical schools gradually made some allowances for Rhodes Scholars returning from England. Scholars who obtained a B.A. in law and then the more advanced B.C.L. (Bachelor of Civil Law) could be granted exemption from the first year of law school. Scholars who obtained a B.A. in physiology generally were able to skip their first year of medical school.

Students who aspired to careers in academe had a more difficult problem. Oxford did not offer a doctorate.²⁴ It did, however, offer two advanced research degrees, the B.Litt. (for work in literature, history, philosophy, and so on) and the B.Sc (for any of the natural sciences). These degrees required two or three years of extensive research on a particular topic and the production of a thesis of approximately 30,000 to 40,000 words. These research degrees had been established in the 1890s, partly to attract British and American students who otherwise might flock to German universities. There were at least three major problems facing Americans who chose to pursue these degrees. The first had to do with their very name. Everyone in Oxford knew that a Bachelor of Literature was an advanced degree, probably equal in rigor and work to an American Ph.D. But in the United States “B.Litt.” signified little more than “B.A.” Thus the holder of one of these degrees still faced the prospect of returning home to find that he must still attend an American graduate program before becoming eligible for a position in an American university.

The second problem regarding the research degrees was that, even if Rhodes Scholars wanted to pursue them, few had the necessary training. As noted above, most Rhodes Scholars found that work for a B.A. was challenging enough. The typical British student working for a B.Litt. was prepared for extensive, original, independent research. He had already experienced five years of specialized training in the field: his last two years in secondary school and his three years of B.A. work. On average two or three Americans per year opted for an advanced degree.

One of the most successful was Frank Aydelotte, who obtained a B.Litt. He studied sixteenth-century English literature, and his thesis turned into his first book: Elizabethan Rogues and Vagabonds (1913). He was exceptional in that he thrived on the challenge, though he always insisted that his B.Litt. should have been considered the equivalent of a Ph.D. He was fortunate in not having to attend graduate school upon return to the United States. Prior to going to Oxford he had already obtained a master's degree at Harvard. The combination of M.A. and B.Litt. sufficed to get him his first teaching job, at Indiana University.

The third problem with the research degrees was that the “independent” research and writing was independent in the extreme. Rhodes Scholars working for B.A.'s had enough trouble disciplining themselves for their weekly tutorials. Those working on a B.Sc. or B.Litt. might be lucky to see their supervisors once a term. They were expected to have the necessary background and intelligence to work unsupervised for two or three years and produce an important, original thesis. Already feeling homesick and alone in a foreign culture, some Americans failed at the effort.

All of the above considerations make it easy to understand another reason for the disappointing academic performance of the Americans. In Oxford they were working for degrees that would not mean much to graduate schools or future employers back in the United States. For a British student, on the other hand, obtaining a First or a Second was important for prestige and careers. But in the States, few persons, if any, would know whether a man had received a First, a Second, a Third, a Fourth, a mere pass, or no degree at all. In short, most Rhodes Scholars came to realize that they did not need to work as hard as they had prior to coming to Oxford, or as hard as they would once they returned home. Those who obtained Firsts or advanced degrees did so from a sense of personal pride, from genuine enthusiasm for their work, or from a desire to live up to expectations.

For some Americans the most important thing was simply being able to put “Rhodes Scholar” on their résumés. Few employers or acquaintances would inquire about what one had actually done in Oxford. For most Americans, therefore, the scholarship presented an opportunity to “have it all” – some study mixed with camaraderie, sports, living in a foreign country, and travel.

Rhodes Scholars from some British dominions tended to do better than the Americans, both socially and academically. Canadians, Australians, and others came from educational systems modeled on that of Britain and thus had fewer problems adjusting. Obtaining a degree from Oxford also meant much more to Canadians and others than it did to Americans, for Oxford was far superior (in fact as well as in reputation) to any university in their homelands. From the early days to the present, Rhodes Scholars from Australia and New Zealand have tended to hold the best academic records in Oxford.²⁵

Report Card for the Early Years

What kind of report card can one give the scholarship program for its first fifteen or so years? Certainly most of the Rhodes Scholars enjoyed the experience. Even if they found many of the students and dons unfriendly, or at least cool, they valued the opportunity to live abroad. They made valuable friendships among themselves, and some of them were introduced to academic studies that would have a great bearing on their careers.

Surprisingly, one aspect of their lives in Oxford that they did not complain about was the near absence of women. Most Rhodes Scholars came from male-only universities and considered higher education for women to be more a frill than a preparation for a career. To be sure, the scholars occasionally joked about or bemoaned the fact that there were few women around. The women from Lady Margaret Hall and the other women's colleges generally stayed away from the men. Also, Americans observed that the women students dressed in such bulky, heavy sweaters and skirts that one felt little attraction toward them anyway. There is no evidence of any scholar ever protesting against the ban on marriage. Those who did marry prior to the end of their three years accepted the fact that they would have to resign their scholarships.

If Americans found many Britons unreceptive to their new-world chumminess and enthusiasm, they could always count on the warm hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Wylie. Afternoon teas with the Oxford Secretary and his wife provided consolation for many a dispirited lad. When the first batch finished their work in 1907 and returned to their homes, Wylie began the practice of sending all former Rhodes Scholars cards and letters on their birthdays. This soon amounted to hundreds per year. He continued this practice long after he retired, until his death in 1952. He never lost touch with “his men.”

The fact that most Rhodes Scholars enjoyed their Oxford experience was demonstrated clearly when most of Europe became engulfed in war in the summer of 1914. With the exception of the German scholars, the Americans and all the others rallied to the cause of Britain and its allies.

Like the Americans, the German scholars had never distinguished themselves academically in Oxford. What made the Germans unique was their selection process. They were chosen directly by the Kaiser, and nearly all of them came from the nobility or the political elite. Their aristocratic background shone through when the first five arrived in Oxford in the fall of 1903. Francis Wylie described how he first met some of them:

I turned, to find myself facing three immaculate young Germans, complete with top hats, frock coats and patent-leather boots. They clicked their heels as one man, and bowed…And there was I, straight from golf on the old links…muddy and bedraggled…I carried them off and gave them tea; and that was the last I saw of the top hats.²⁶

Due to the requirements of universal military service in their country, most of the Germans were permitted to remain in Oxford for only two years. This meant that few of them could take degrees. Despite this handicap, they appear to have got along well socially.²⁷

When war was declared most of the Germans in Oxford returned home. Several of them, along with Germans from earlier years, served with distinction in their country's army. It was perhaps a small mark of the success of Cecil Rhodes' plan that friendships with German scholars enabled Americans and others to avoid some of the excesses of wartime propaganda. Germany may have become the enemy, but Rhodes Scholars knew that Germans were not cannibalistic Huns. After obtaining parliamentary authorization to amend the will, the trustees abolished the German scholarships in 1916 and in their place allotted more awards for students from the British Empire.²⁸

By early 1915 the student population of Oxford had dwindled from about 3,500 to 600. Besides the Rhodes Scholars, about the only men left were those unfit for military service. With the naive, gung-ho spirit that filled many bright young men in 1914, the Americans in Oxford were enthusiastic about this war to end all wars. Virtually every American there devoted his vacations to working for the Red Cross, the YMCA and other groups that provided ambulances, cared for the wounded, and distributed food. Some obtained leaves of absence from Oxford so that they could remain in France or Belgium. A handful of current and past Rhodes Scholars, impatient with their government's neutrality, joined the British Army. One of these, William Fleet, was killed in action in May 1918 while serving in the Grenadier Guards. Dozens more volunteered for the U.S. Army after the United States entered the war. Twelve American Rhodes Scholars died in the war, while doing relief work or serving in uniform. Nearly three hundred either joined the armed forces or held war-related jobs in Washington. In addition to the dozen Americans, fifty-eight Rhodes Scholars from elsewhere also died in the fighting.²⁹

If the Americans, on the whole, valued their Oxford experience, the reaction of Oxford was decidedly more mixed. At one extreme there was an article that appeared in the Oxford Magazine late in 1904. It admitted that the Rhodes Scholars had not brought the revolutionary changes that many had feared. The article also expressed the hope that the Americans' impression of Oxford was as favorable as Oxford's view of them.³⁰

Others in Oxford, however, shared the opinions of Max Beerbohm. His farcical 1911 novel Zuleika Dobson is an Oxford classic. It concerns the lovely Zuleika, who comes to Oxford to live with her grandfather, the head of the fictional Judas College. She is a femme fatale in the most literal sense. She breaks the hearts of so many young men that finally every male student in Oxford drowns himself in the Isis. At the end of the story she sets off to conquer Cambridge too. One of the secondary characters is an American Rhodes Scholar, one Abimelech V. Oover. He is so obtuse and earnest that he grates on everyone's nerves. When the snuff is passed around after dinner he enthusiastically outperforms all Englishmen in its use. One of his “friends” among the British students avers that “Americans have a perfect right to exist. But he did often find himself wishing Mr. Rhodes had not enabled them to exercise that right in Oxford.”³¹

It would be most accurate, however, to state that a majority of dons and students showed little feeling about the newcomers one way or the other. To have showered attention on the Americans would have been a most un-Oxonian thing to do. For centuries the university had received visitors and students from among the most illustrious families in the world. The Rhodes Scholars were novelties, but, except for an occasional problem here or there, they were nothing to cause excitement.

Even if many in Oxford might wish to deny it, however, the Rhodes Scholars were already forcing the venerable institution to make adjustments. The university slowly realized that laboratories and faculty in the sciences and in law would have to be improved, because of the heavy demand in these areas by Americans. In addition, the desire by some Rhodes Scholars to obtain advanced degrees forced the university to give more structure and substance to its B.Litt. and B.Sc. programs. Additional changes would come in the years ahead.

NOTES

^1. Frank Aydelotte, The Oxford Stamp (Freeport, NY, 1967; orig. ed. 1917), 22-40; Aydelotte, American Rhodes Scholarships, 73-74; Blanshard, Aydelotte, 130; Alumni Magazine, 3 (January 1910): 13-16; TAO, 2 (1915): 14; Ashby, “American Rhodes's Scholar,” 183-84.

^2. Robert Hale, “Oxford Again – A Rhodes Scholar Goes Back,” The Outlook, 11 July 1923, 378; Aydelotte, American Rhodes Scholarships, 60; Alumni Magazine, 1 (December 1907): 15.

^3. NYT, 2 October 1910, 12, and 16 October 1910, sec. 5, 9.

^4. TAO, 1 (1914): 33, 21 (1934): 130.

^5. TAO, 65 (1978): 112.

^6. TAO, 1 (1914): 20-35.

^7. TAO, 1 (1914): 25. Also see 81 (1994): 10.

^8. TAO, 3 (1918): 107; 65 (1978): 113; Register of Rhodes Scholars, 4-12.

^9. Aydelotte, American Rhodes Scholarships, 55.

^10. Alumni Magazine, 1 (December 1907): 4.

^11. TAO, 1 (1914): 11.

^12. NYT, 12 March 1911, sec. 5, 5.

^13. Parkin, Rhodes Scholarships, 228.

^14. Aydelotte, American Rhodes Scholarships, 62; Parkin, Rhodes Scholarships, 159. One who did successfully combine reading and travel was John Crowe Ransom. See Young and Core, Selected Letters, 58.

^15. NYT, 5 July 1907, 7; TAO, 57 (1970): 578.

^16. Elton, First Fifty Years, 105-6.

^17. Alumni Magazine, 1 (December 1907): 14-15.

^18. Thomas Daniel Young, Gentleman in a Dustcoat: A Biography of John Crowe Ransom (Baton Rouge, 1976), 41.

^19. TAO, 34 (1947): 214.

^20. TAO, 58 (1971): 51.

^21. TAO, 68 (1981): 159. Also see 65 (1978): 110.

^22. NYT, 6 December 1906, 8.

^23. Parkin, Rhodes Scholarships, 214-15.

^24. At graduation ceremonies (called Encaenia) the university always awarded several honorary doctorates, and by 1900 about a dozen prominent Americans were among the hundreds who had received them. Oxford also granted doctoral degrees called D.Litt. (for any field in the humanities) and D.Sc. (for the natural sciences). These were slightly more substantial than honorary degrees, but far removed from the Ph.D.'s awarded in German and American universities. A D.Litt., for example, might be bestowed on a man who had received a B.A. at Oxford at least ten years earlier and who was now a don at one of the colleges. The D.Litt. would be a reward for especially noteworthy scholarly accomplishments. Most dons, however, had only a B.A. and the non-academic M.A.

^25. For some discussion of Rhodes Scholars besides those of the United States, see Elton, First Fifty Years, and Carleton Kemp Allen, Forty Years of the Rhodes Scholarships (Oxford, 1944).

^26. Elton, First Fifty Years, 78-79.

^27. Elton, First Fifty Years, 109-10.

^28. Harrison, Twentieth Century, 3-5.

^29. NYT, 5 December 1914, 3; 13 December 1914, 4; 28 October 1915, 3; 24 December 1915, 2; 30 June 1918, sec. 3, 6; 3 November 1919, 8. Elton, First Fifty Years, 104-6, 220-21. TAO, 1 (1914): 92, 100; 2 (1915): 45-58, 138; 3 (1916): 35-36, 51-60, 116-18; 4 (1917): 52-53; 5 (1918): 96, 116; 7 (1920): 161.

^30. Quoted in TAO, 21 (1934): 131.

^31. Zuleika Dobson: An Oxford Love Story (London, 1991; orig. ed. 1911), 86.