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Foreign Aid

Foreign Aid: Policy and Practice offers a complete overview of the

basics of foreign aid. Who is it for? Who pays for it? Why does it
exist? What is it spent on? How much is it? And most important,
does it work?
The aid debate has been flooded by academic studies and popular
books that either challenge or champion the effectiveness of aid.
Most presume that the reader already knows the basic facts and
characteristics of the aid industry. This book provides readers with a
comprehensive summary of the background, actors, core principles
and policies, and intended (and unintended) outcomes of foreign
aid, followed by a more informed and balanced treatment of the key
controversies and trends in aid today. Drawing on the author’s 25
years’ experience in development practice and 15 years in teaching,
the book reflects on recent efforts to accelerate aid’s impact and
concludes by taking a look at the future of aid and the headwinds it
will face in the first half of the 21st century.
Perfect for university teaching at advanced undergraduate and
graduate levels, this book will also encourage development
practitioners, policy makers, and members of the public to engage in
more informed debates about aid and development finance.

Phyllis R. Pomerantz is Professor Emerita of the Practice of Public

Policy at the Duke Center for International Development, Sanford
School of Public Policy, Duke University, USA, where she has taught
graduate students for over 15 years. Before this, she had a long
career at the World Bank, including managerial appointments in
agriculture, rural development, and infrastructure, and as a country
director and the World Bank’s first Chief Learning Officer.
Foreign Aid
Policy and Practice

Phyllis R. Pomerantz
Designed cover image: © Getty Images

First published 2024

by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN

and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa

business

© 2024 Phyllis R. Pomerantz

The right of Phyllis R. Pomerantz to be identified as author of this

work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of
the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or

reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical,
or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.

Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks

or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and
explanation without intent to infringe.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-1-032-20807-7 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-032-20806-0 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-26532-0 (ebk)

DOI: 10.4324/9781003265320

Typeset in Galliard Pro

by Apex CoVantage, LLC
Contents

List of Figures
List of Tables
List of Boxes and Classroom Vignettes
Preface

PART I
The Basics of Foreign Aid

1 Introduction

2 Setting the Context

3 The Main Actors: Recipients and Donors

4 How Aid Works

PART II
Effective Aid: Debates and Trends

5 Judging Donors’ Performance

6 The Great Aid Effectiveness Debate

7 Opening the “Black Box” of Aid Effectiveness

8 The Rocky Road Towards Aid Effectiveness

9 Summing Up and Looking Ahead

Index
 Figures

2.1 Colonization In Late 1945

2.2 Bilateral and Multilateral Aid 1990–2020
3.1 Large Foundation Development Flows in 2020
3.2 The Growth of Remittances to Low and Middle-Income Countries
(excluding China)
3.3 The Simplified Ecosystem of Aid
4.1 ODA Versus CPA 2011–2020
4.2 Development Finance From the Recipient Country’s Viewpoint
4.3 ODA as a Percentage of Total External Flows by Income Group –
Selected Countries
4.4 ODA 1990–2020
4.5 Bilateral Aid by Major Purpose
4.6 Aid by Region
4.7 Aid by Income Grouping
4.8a OECD-DAC Aid – Amounts
4.8b As a Percentage of Gross National Income
 Tables

2.1 Developing Country Average Annual Growth Rates by Region and

Decade
3.1 List of Aid Recipients by Country Income Grouping and Region
3.2 Top 20 Official Aid Recipients in 2020
3.3 “Snapshot” of DAC Donors (providing US$1 billion or above in
2021)
3.4 Bilateral Concessional Finance
3.5 Disbursements/Program Expenditures – Select Multilateral
Organizations
3.6 A Snapshot of Large International Development and Humanitarian
NGOs
5.1 Paris Declaration Indicators
5.2 QuODA 2018 – A Pared Down Index
5.3 QuODA 2021 – A Changing Index
5.4 Donor Performance: Different Indices, Different Years, Different
Results?
5.5 Listening to Leaders 2021: The Top Donors in Influence,
Positivity-Adjusted Influence, and Helpfulness
5.6 GPEDC Monitoring Framework (through 2019)
5.7 CDI and QuODA 2021 Country Rankings
 Boxes and Classroom Vignettes

Boxes
2.1 Structural Adjustment and the Washington Consensus
2.2 The Millennium Development Goals
3.1 Country Classification Criteria
3.2 Helpful Definitions
3.3 UN Funds, Agencies, and Programs Most Involved in Development
Activities
3.4 The World Bank and the IMF – Sister Institutions
3.5 The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation – At a Glance
4.1 More on Tied Aid
4.2 Fishery Promotion in Sekondi: An Investment Project Example
4.3 COVID-19 Crisis Response: A Policy-Based Operation Example
4.4 Climate Action Through Landscape Management: A Program for
Results Example
5.1 Classroom Exercise: Autonomy and Capacity as Key Components
of Donor Performance
5.2 Inside Performance Ranking: Performance Criteria, Rationales,
and Proxy Indicators: An Example From the Ranking Series Starting
With Easterly and Pfutze
5.3 Highlights From GPEDC’s 2019 Monitoring Report
5.4 Evolution of CDI Coverage
5.5 Student Views on “What Makes a Good Donor”
7.1 What Exactly Is a Randomized Controlled Trial (RCT) in
Development Work?
7.2 Strengths of Randomized Controlled Trials in Development Work
7.3 Limitations of Randomized Controlled Trials in Development Work
8.1 The Sustainable Development Goals
8.2 Two Examples of Development Impact Bonds (DIB)
8.3 Interrogating the Data on Relative Funding Priorities: An Example
8.4 OECD’s 2019 Guiding Principles: Managing for Sustainable
Development Results
9.1 GPEDC Development Effectiveness Principles and China’s
Principles From Its Global Development Initiative

Classroom Vignettes
2.1 The History of Poor Countries
3.1 The Link Between Colonialism and Foreign Aid
Preface

I have been both a practitioner and a student of foreign aid for over
40 years. It was only after I began teaching graduate students at
Duke University in the United States that I began to realize that I
had learned a considerable amount over that time. My students
encouraged me to write a book based on the Politics of International
Aid course I taught for over 15 years at Duke. I began writing this
book, both in my head and on paper, some years ago, but it was
only when I stopped teaching that I had the time and energy to
devote to this task.
I have realized over the years that complex issues seem to only
get more complex. Nuances and exceptions abound. At the same
time, there are tendencies and trends and even sometimes clarity
and consensus on a particular subject. I hope that this book strikes
the appropriate balance between the particular and the general. It
was born out of years of practice but also shaped by the impressive
aid literature generated by academia, think tanks, and aid
organizations.
I would like to acknowledge first and foremost, my mostly
international graduate students at Duke who were a true joy to work
with, year after year. We laughed together and learned together;
they had valuable experience and much to say about what had
happened in their countries. The same is true for the many
outstanding country officials I worked with over the years. Some of
those conversations are engraved forever in my mind and also in my
heart. I also want to thank my former colleagues at the World Bank
and my colleagues at Duke and especially those at the Duke Center
for International Development and the Sanford School of Public
Policy. This book is the result of our work together. Both institutions
provided a stimulating (and yes, also at times exasperating)
environment and home base.
On this book especially, I want to thank my publications team at
Rout-ledge, especially Senior Editor Helena Hurd, who encouraged
me from the start, and to the four anonymous reviewers who had
many helpful comments on an early version of the book. I also want
to thank Rosie Anderson, my first contact at Routledge and now an
editor, Katerina Lade, the editorial assistant who worked on this
book, and Routledge’s production staff.
Finally, I am grateful for Kiwi and Chico, who supervised the
writing of this book. I am particularly indebted to Charles Hochman,
my husband, who has no idea how much his “one day at a time”
kept me going.
Part I

The Basics of Foreign Aid

1

Introduction
DOI: 10.4324/9781003265320-2

Economic and social development and “the end of poverty” are

nearly universal aspirations. How best to achieve these is one of the
greatest puzzles of our time. There is much discussion of resiliency
and self-reliance. In reality, the nations of the world have been
inextricably linked throughout history by war, trade, financial flows,
contagious diseases, and the global ecosystem.
Among financial flows is foreign aid, when one nation decides to
give money to another. Foreign aid is a controversial topic. It is tied
to perspectives on nationalism and globalization as well as to policies
and practices for economic, social, and political development. It has
passionate defenders and equally passionate critics. Some credit aid
with accelerating both economic growth and social welfare
improvements. Others judge aid as harmful and an obstacle to
achieving sustainable gains for the poor. Still others see aid as a
necessary evil. It has been referred to as a “wicked problem”
(Ramalingam, 2013) and a “black box” (Bourguignon & Sundberg,
2007), with the connotation that how, when, and why it succeeds is
essentially unknowable.
Nor is it clear what success looks like; success means different
things to different actors. Aid can be evaluated according to its
ability to bolster the national security of the donor or its ability to
promote economic and social development of the recipient. Aid can
be judged according to its effect on gross national income per capita
or its impact on incomes and living standards for the poorest. Even if
successful aid is linked to development, what ultimately is
development? Does it mean being richer or happier? Countries like
Bhutan insist that Gross National Happiness is a more meaningful
concept than Gross National Income (University of Oxford, n.d.).
Not surprisingly, given the complexity and controversy surrounding
aid, there is a prolific literature explaining, analyzing, and critiquing
it. That literature takes on many forms today: academic publications,
official reports and documents, the popular press, and increasingly
social media. There is an avalanche of words. Frequently, however,
definitions and sources of the information are unclear, and there is
selective use of less-than-reliable data to support particular
arguments and viewpoints. On top of this, aid and the objectives it
supports are not static; who, what, when, how, and why are
constantly in flux, even though major changes in the aid industry are
painfully slow.

Why This Book?

So why add to the avalanche of words on foreign aid? There are
several compelling reasons. The last 20 or so years have witnessed
large changes in the amount of aid available and the number of
donors. While private sector finance and other forms of development
finance are growing and overshadowing aid in its strictest definition,
aid is still critically important for low and middle-income countries
and will remain so, especially in difficult times. And difficult times are
upon us. The world is caught in the throes of multiple, interlinked
crises: climate change, war, financial upheavals, pandemics. If
astutely employed, aid can be useful in mitigating some of the worst
effects of crises on developing countries. However, despite the
changing face of aid over time, the debate over aid effectiveness has
not diminished, and there is major emphasis on obtaining and
measuring “results”. Aid effectiveness, “getting the biggest bang for
the buck”, has to be central in a world where limited resources are
facing more and more demands. Whether the way that results are
being obtained and measured contribute to aid effectiveness is a
question to be explored. Recent history, including the regime change
in Afghanistan and the reversal of health and income gains due to
the COVID-19 pandemic, strongly argue for the need to achieve
more robust and sustainable results.
Another compelling reason to re-examine aid at this point is the
changing international context. After the fall of the Soviet Union, the
globe seemed to be headed towards a unipolar world led by the
United States and Western Europe. Today, with the rise of China, the
consolidation of the European Union, a revitalized and active Russia,
and the wealth and power of the Gulf States in the Middle East, it is
looking increasingly like a multi-polar world. What does this mean
for low and middle-income countries and for the assistance they
need? What does this mean for the world’s ability to face global
challenges? What are the implications for the world’s poorest
citizens?
The changing international context is straining the traditional
international aid system. China, Turkey, and the United Arab
Emirates have become significant donors, with aid practices that are
different from those of Western Europe and the United States. While
official aid has grown, the needs have grown even faster. Care for
migrants and post-conflict reconstruction have emerged as important
obligations for many donor countries. Multiple crises have landed
many developing countries in debt distress, and debt relief is once
again part of global aid discussions. The effects of global warming
are already visible. More support for climate mitigation and
adaptation is an urgent priority. Leveraging private sector resources
has become a legitimate use of aid as recognition grows of the
larger-than-ever funding gaps, especially given the ambition of
global plans such as the Sustainable Development Goals approved
by the United Nations in 2015. Aid discussions in this changing
environment have broadened to include other sources of
development finance and a focus on getting results. Yet, it is not
apparent that the necessary steps have been taken for significant
improvements in aid effectiveness. As donor countries experience
financial difficulties at home, their generosity may wane. Given this
context, it is a highly appropriate moment to review and critically
examine both traditional aid practices and recent innovations.
Finally, and surprisingly given the amount written, there is a
dearth of up-to-date textbooks for advanced undergraduate and
graduate students interested in aid. There is a dizzying array of
articles, documents, and specialized books, but few cover the basics
of aid before going on to explore recent innovations and the debates
and issues surrounding aid. Consequently, many aid and
development courses focus on a few topics but leave students with a
less-than-complete picture of the history and current state of the aid
industry. This book aims to provide some measure of aid literacy so
that afterwards students and practitioners confidently can go on to
explore specialized topics in more detail. It’s the kind of book I wish
I had read early on in my career as a development practitioner and
the kind of book I wish I had available when I was designing courses
on aid and development as a professor.

No Grand Theories
Those who are looking for a “grand theory of aid” will be
disappointed. Because aid is a “wicked problem” with many actors,
no one theory can do it justice. This book uses fragments of theories
from development economics, political science, international
relations, and public policy to try and put together a coherent picture
of aid. It strives to be evidence-based, so the theory is derived from
the evidence and not vice versa. It is structured so that first the
basics are covered regarding donors, recipients, and forms of aid
before going deeply into issues of relationships, implementation, and
effectiveness. At the end, there is speculation about the future of
aid, but it is speculation born out of analysis of the past and present
practices of aid, as well as analysis of the global context in which aid
will likely be operating in the coming years.
The framework that is used, first developed by Bourguignon and
Sundberg, is one that decomposes aid into three critical linkages
(2007). The first is the relationship of policies to outcomes, in other
words, technical knowledge. The second is the relationship of
policymakers to policy; how exactly are decisions made? That
connects aid to governance. The third linkage is the relationship of
external aid donors to policymakers. Do aid donors influence
policymakers and vice versa? How so? While some evidence has
been accumulated on technical knowledge, evidence on the role of
governance is mixed, and evidence on the role of aid relationships is
largely missing. In the end, this means that aid continues to be a
“wicked problem”, one that is best dealt with by trial and error and
with a large dose of humility.

A Definitional Note
What is aid? As it turns out, that is not an easy question to answer,
and Chapter 4 will delve further into the various definitions. For the
purpose of this book, aid is mainly defined as official aid that is given
to countries and organizations on concessional terms for improving
incomes and living conditions for people living in relatively poor
countries. While humanitarian aid is included in that definition, the
book focuses mostly on developmental aid. While many of the issues
with humanitarian aid are similar, that kind of aid has some unique
characteristics that deserve a careful treatment of its own. The book
does cover, although not extensively, aid provided by private
foundations for developmental purposes, although this type of
assistance is not official aid. What is not covered in this book is
military aid, even though foreign troops have been instrumental in
many conflict and post-conflict settings.
As noted earlier, aid effectiveness is also a complex concept, and
as the book will show the presumed characteristics and the very
definition of aid effectiveness have changed over time. In this book,
aid effectiveness is defined as aid that reduces poverty and improves
the welfare and well-being of people. It is important to keep that
definition in mind while sorting through the complexity associated
with the aid industry today.

A Note on Language
Language is a powerful tool that can convey meaning far beyond
words. Today the official language of aid has changed. Countries
that provide aid and countries that receive aid are “development
partners”. In some contexts, countries that provide aid are “financing
partners” and only the recipient countries are “development
partners”. Aid itself is frequently referred to as “development
cooperation”. Countries like China see their assistance as “South-
South cooperation” rather than aid. The official language is meant to
convey partnership and cooperation; more often than not, it is
aspirational or at best only partially true. To avoid confusion, this
text deliberately uses the old-fashioned terms donor, recipient, and
aid provider because they are clear and unambiguous. Most low and
middle-income countries (sometimes collectively referred to as
developing countries in this book – another old-fashioned term) see
the countries and organizations that give or lend them money on
concessional terms (i.e., significantly below market rates) as
“donors” regardless of their geographical or political affiliation. The
choice of language was made for clarity’s sake, but also as a
reminder of both the history and the power dynamics of aid from
post-World War II until today.

Outline of the Book

The book has two parts. Part I, The Basics of Foreign Aid, aims to
give everyone a common understanding of the context, actors,
amounts, and mechanics of aid. Part II, Effective Aid: Debates and
Trends, delves into the main issues and arguments concerning aid
and aid effectiveness. It then reviews recent trends, and it ends by
conjecturing about key features of aid in the future.
After this Introduction, Chapter 2 sets out the overall context for
aid, briefly reviewing its history from the end of colonialism until
today. It recounts the concerns with aid effectiveness beginning in
the 1990s, brought on by “aid fatigue” accompanied by diminishing
amounts of aid, and the change in motivations resulting from the
end of the competition with the Soviet Union. The chapter concludes
by focusing on the overall situation of low and middle-income
countries today and some the challenges they face in using aid to
bolster economic and social development.
Chapter 3 looks at the main actors who receive and provide aid. It
discusses the motivations of both recipients and donors and shows
who is receiving the most aid. It goes on to review the key
characteristics of four types of donors: traditional bilateral donors
who belong to the Development Assistance Committee of the
Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD-
DAC); “new” or “emerging” donors who are not part of OECD-DAC;
multilateral organizations and banks, like the United Nations and the
World Bank, that are heavily involved in development; and
foundations and non-governmental organizations (NGOs). This last
group works with both official and private sources of finance. The
chapter also mentions private citizens and the importance of the
funds they provide to relatives and friends in other countries.
Remittances are not counted as official development finance or aid,
but they pay for many private goods and community-level public
goods that contribute to incomes and well-being.
The next chapter, which is the concluding chapter of Part I, is all
about official aid. It discusses definitions of aid and the differences
between what the public thinks of as aid and Overseas Development
Assistance (ODA), the more formal and limited definition of aid. The
chapter covers broader development finance as well as other
important terms and definitions, and it analyzes the relative
importance of ODA. It then outlines how aid is packaged, explaining
the types (along with examples), modalities, and channels of aid,
and the basis on which decisions about packaging aid are made. The
chapter concludes with a look at the amount of overall aid and how
it is distributed by major purpose, region, and income group.
Part II, Effective Aid: Debates and Trends, begins with a chapter
on judging donor performance. The chapter asks what makes a good
donor. It reviews the various theories and indices that have been
developed over the years to judge donor quality. The emphasis is
not on how individual donors scored but on identifying indicators
that are considered fundamental for satisfactory donor performance.
While the efforts to identify donor quality are only a couple of
decades old, the variation among indices and across time is striking.
There is little consensus on indicators or results, although there is a
tendency for multilateral agencies to be judged more favorably.
Nonetheless, the indicators tell a powerful story about how the
meaning of good donor performance has changed over time within
the donor community and how this diverges from the recipients’
point of view.
Chapter 6 reviews the vigorous debate on aid effectiveness by
public intellectuals that began in the first decade of this century. It
succinctly describes the differences of opinion between Jeffrey
Sachs, an aid enthusiast, and William Easterly, an aid skeptic. This
debate was accompanied by serious critiques of aid by Dambisa
Moyo, a Zambian economist, and Angus Deaton, a Nobel Laureate.
In response, others pointed to aid’s positive accomplishments. Bill
Gates, for example, said that funding health delivery was “the best
investment I’ve ever made” (Gates, 2019). More recently, Abhijit
Banerjee and Esther Duflo, two more Nobel economists, have
argued for moving away from the great debate on aid effectiveness.
Instead, they prioritize a more focused approach, conducting
randomized controlled trials (RCTs) to learn what works in specific
circumstances. The widely differing views of prominent intellectuals
lead to a concluding discussion on the confounding issues in
evaluating aid effectiveness.
Chapter 7 analyzes aid effectiveness through the framework first
developed by Francois Bourguignon and Mark Sundberg (2007). The
workings of aid consist of three linkages involved with knowledge,
governance, and aid relationships. The chapter then turns to the
evidence on aid effectiveness, which is plentiful but often
contradictory. The evidence at the macro level indicates that at least
some aid is effective even though the widely held belief that “aid
works best in a good policy environment” likely overstates the
impact of policy. At the micro level, more rigorous project
evaluations and the emphasis on RCTs have yielded a great deal of
site-specific and project-specific knowledge on “what works” but tell
relatively little about how and why results are achieved. Focusing
primarily on technical aspects is unlikely to be sufficient to guarantee
improved aid effectiveness. The chapter concludes by returning to
the other two linkages, governance and aid relationships, to review
what is known about how these contribute to aid effectiveness. More
understanding of both is needed to finally open the “black box”.
Chapter 8 traces the efforts towards improving aid over the last
decade or so. The vigorous process that culminated in the Busan
High-Level Meeting in 2011 has been far more modest in the last
decade, as threats to peace, pandemics, climate change, and
economic disruptions have preoccupied donors and recipient
countries alike. Despite maintaining aid levels, creating new
organizations such as the Global Partnership for Effective
Development Cooperation (GPEDC) and approving an ambitious
agenda codified in the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs),
overall development and poverty results have been disappointing.
The multiple crises have even reversed some of the previous gains.
Despite this, there are some hopeful signs on the horizon, with new
project types, more flexible disbursement mechanisms, new
financing vehicles, and a focus on innovation, resilience, and
recovery along with increased emphasis on underin-vested areas
such as climate and gender. There are also some new ways that
donors are doing business, with more attention paid to the local
context and the hiring of local staff. Nonetheless, global pressures
and some of the new mechanisms may evoke or at least reflect a
growing trust deficit between donors and recipients, creating new
barriers to aid effectiveness.
Chapter 9 is the concluding chapter, summing up and looking
ahead. It points to a new age of pragmatism, where aid is expected
to bear tangible results over the short-term and is viewed as an
integral part of the foreign policy “toolbox”. Despite earlier thoughts
that aid was a dying industry, aid is here to stay. While there is much
discussion and disagreement as to aid priorities, the differing
agendas and the resulting tensions provide a certain stability for aid.
That stability also means that aid policies and practices in reality are
quite slow to change, and the rhetoric of partnership far outstrips
the reality. In terms of the future, the aid effectiveness discussion
will not return to prominence, while aid amounts may grow slowly.
Because of pandemics and natural disasters, most traditional donors
will continue heavy support for social sectors and humanitarian aid.
The need to fund global public goods will likely mean more global
programs and considerable amounts of aid flowing to middle-income
countries, limiting the amount directed to the poor in poor states.
Aid fragmentation will continue until recipient countries can adroitly
manage their aid. Africa will continue to lag behind unless special
efforts are made.
In short, aid is very much alive, but the future of aid is decidedly
mixed. The following pages will provide evidence and analysis to
show why this is the case. The first step on this journey is a brief
look at the history and context in which aid is provided.

Bibliography
Bourguignon, F., & Sundberg, M. (2007). Aid effectiveness: Opening
the black box. American Economics Review, 97(2), 316–321.
Gates, B. (2019, January 16). Bill Gates: The best investment I’ve
ever made. Retrieved from Wall Street Journal online:
www.wsj.com/articles/bill-gates-the-best-investment-ive-ever-
made-11547683309
Ramalingam, B. (2013). Aid on the edge of chaos. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
University of Oxford. (n.d.). Bhutan’s gross national happiness
index. Retrieved from Oxford Poverty and Human
Development Initiative: https://ophi.org.uk/policy/gross-
national-happiness-index/
2

Setting the Context

DOI: 10.4324/9781003265320-3

Foreign aid or foreign assistance from one nation to another has

been around for a long time, reaching as far back as the Greek and
Roman empires, if not earlier. In the last century, foreign aid can be
traced back to late colonialism and the aftermath of World War II.
After the war, there was a need to reconstruct both the victorious
and vanquished countries and to aid newly established nation states.
The relatively quick recovery of Europe, after a massive injection of
funds from the Marshall Plan and other sources, increased both the
visibility and popularity of foreign aid. As successful as aid was in
post-war Europe, its results have been much less obvious in the poor
countries that became independent after World War II. The many
reasons for this will be discussed in this and subsequent chapters.
In the public’s mind, all foreign aid is lumped together. However,
officially, there is a distinction between foreign aid provided for
military or other purposes and foreign aid that is specifically
earmarked for economic and social development. Chapter 4 will
further discuss the various forms of foreign aid, including the
differences between humanitarian and developmental aid. First,
however, it is important to understand the context in which aid is
being given. This chapter will begin with a brief history of the broad
developments over the last 60 years that affected aid recipients,
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interests of trade, and so oppressive against the rights of the poor
man, must be a gross and flagrant violation of the law, and when the
guilt is established, must be visited by a proper measure of
punishment.” But the masters also may now be made to feel the
restraining power of the law; and at this moment one of our highest
tribunals, a Court of Error, is occupied with a question of no small
importance and difficulty, arising from an attempt of eighteen
Lancashire mill-owners to enter into a counter-combination. Their
men having combined to support each other in forcing their masters
to yield to their terms, the masters entered into a bond to each other
not to open their mills for twelve months, except on terms agreed to
by a majority; and the question was brought before the Court of
Queen’s Bench, whether such an agreement was or was not one in
restraint of trade, and consequently consistent or inconsistent with
the public good. “The Court differed,” says Mr Warren; “but the
majority held that the agreement was illegal, as unduly restraining
the freedom of trade, holding ‘that if particular masters might thus
combine, so might all the masters in the kingdom:’ and, on the other
hand, all the men in the kingdom might combine themselves into a
sort of Labour Parliament.” The case, it is understood, will not be
held settled on either side until it has been taken to the House of
Lords, and decided by the Court of last appeal in the kingdom.
The principle or object kept in view by the Legislature in framing
the present statutes seems to have been, as Chief-Justice Tindal once
observed, “that if the workmen, on the one hand, refused to work, or
the master, on the other, refused to employ, as such a state of things
could not continue long, it might fairly be expected that the party
must ultimately give way whose pretensions were not founded on
reason or justice—the masters if they offered too little, the workmen
if they demanded too much.” But, says Mr Warren, “this leaves each
party to decide on the reason and justice of its pretensions, and the
unreasonableness and injustice of those of its opponent. And it is
more likely that the Legislature said to itself,—‘It will always be a
question of time; the weakest will go to the wall first, though not till
after it has greatly hurt the stronger.’” They just left each side to do
its worst, and worry or be worried to death by its opponent, without
the State interfering so long as this work of social murder went on
peaceably!
 Truly, this is sad work! And yet legislation, we fear, though it may
in some degree curb, will never reach the root of the evil. The only
cure, we feel persuaded, will be found in social, not legislative
reform. Better information on the part of the working-classes will do
something to the attainment of this most desirable end; and Mr
Warren, while paying a just tribute to the “keen mother-wit and right
honest heart” of the English working-classes, says,—

“If many years’ observation and reflection entitle me to make a

recommendation, it would be, that the working-classes would find it of the highest
value to acquire, in a general way, as they could with a little effort,—as by plain and
good lectures in this very place,—some knowledge of the circumstances which
determine the rate of wages. That is a question, in its higher and remoter branches,
of extreme difficulty; but its elementary principles are pretty well agreed upon
now, and directly touch the only capital of the poor man—his labour, and teach
him how to set a true and not a chimerical and exaggerated value on it, at times
when the keenest dispute has arisen on that very subject. Oh, what incalculable
benefits might arise from a knowledge, by the acute working-classes, of the leading
principles agreed upon by great thinkers, statesmen, and economists of every hue
of opinion, as those regulating the relation between employers and employed, and
establishing, not a conflict of interest, but an absolute identity!”

Yet it is not Ignorance, but Selfishness—that passion the most

abiding of our nature—that is the prime mover in these dire contests
between the employers and employed; and along with every effort for
the education of our working-classes, we should strive also still more
assiduously to cultivate their moral nature and make mutual charity
and forbearance more prevalent both among high and low. Very
beautifully, and no less wisely and earnestly, does Mr Warren speak
on this subject. Inculcating forbearance between master and man in
hard-times, he says:—

“Each ought honestly to place himself, for a moment, in the other’s situation—
when each might see causes in operation which he might not otherwise have seen—
trials and difficulties of which he had not dreamed. Let the master look steadily at
the position of the working man, especially in hard times, pressed down to the
earth with exhausting labour, anxiety, and galling privations endured by himself
and his family, often almost maddening him, as he feels that it is in vain for him to
rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrow: in moments of
despondency and despair, he feels as though the appalling language of the prophet
were sounding in his ears—Son of man, eat thy bread with quaking, and drink thy
water with trembling and with carefulness! He cannot keep himself and those
towards whom his harassed heart yearns so tenderly from the jaws of starvation,
with all his patience, economy, and sobriety; and yet he sees out of the fruit of his
labours, his employers apparently rolling in riches, and revelling in luxury and
splendour! But let that workman, on the other hand, do as he would be done by: let
his master deal with his capital, which happens to be money, as the workman with
his, which happens to be labour—‘freely.’ Let him reflect on the anxieties and
dangers to which his employer is often exposed, but dare not explain, or make
them public, lest it should injure or ruin his credit: his capital may be locked up in
machinery, or he may be otherwise unable to realise it, however desperate his
emergency, without a destructive sacrifice: great but perfectly legitimate
speculation may have failed from causes he could not foresee or control—from
accident, from fraud, or misfortune of others—from a capricious change in public
taste: he may have been running desperately, but with an honest spirit, along the
black line of bankruptcy for many months, without his workmen dreaming of it,
and yet has punctually paid their weekly wages to perhaps several or many
hundreds of them, often borrowing at heavy interest to do so, while these workmen
supposed him always the master of untold thousands! Now I say, let each party try
to think of all these things, and pause before he commits himself to a rash and
ruinous line of hostility. A strike too often partakes of the nature of a social suicide.
Capital—that is, labour and money—at war with itself, may be compared to the
madman who, in a sudden phrenzy, dashes each of his fists against the other, till
both are bleeding and disabled—perhaps for ever.... Let each party sincerely try to
respect the other; to find out and dwell on those qualities really, and to so large an
extent, entitling each to the other’s respect and sympathy. Let the master reflect on
the patience, ay the truly heroic patience, self-denial, fortitude, and energy with
which the workman endures severe trials and privations; and let the workman
reflect on the fairness and moderation, often under circumstances of serious
difficulty,—on the generosity and munificence of his master, as could be testified
by tens of thousands of grateful workmen, in seasons of sickness, suffering, and
bereavement.”

Towards the close of his elaborate lecture, Mr Warren discourses

nobly and cheerfully on the Dignity and Consolations of labour, and
glances at the monster evils of Improvidence and Intemperance by
which the daily life of the working-classes is robbed alike of its
honour and its comfort. In this part occurs a passage so striking and
so eloquent that we cannot but transfer it to our pages, and we trust
the warning and appeal which it conveys will animate all who have
the privilege of influencing the working-classes, with an enduring
desire to banish the debasing and all-abstracting passion of
intemperance from their ranks.

“I hope and believe that I must go out of this hall, to find a victim of
Intemperance! Such a man, or rather wreck of a man, is not to be found here! I
know, however, where to find him; there is another hall in which I took my seat
this morning, have sate all day, and shall be at my gloomy post again in the
morning, to see,—possibly,—standing trembling, or sullen and desperate at the bar
of justice, one whom the untiring and remorseless fiend Intemperance has dragged
thither, and stands grim but unseen beside his victim. He had been a man, might
we say, well to do in the world, and getting respected by all his neighbours, till he
took to drink, and then it was all up with him—and there he stands! disgraced, and
in despair. I need not draw on my imagination for illustrations, especially before
an audience which numbers so many men whose painful duty as jurymen it is to sit
every sessions, with myself, engaged in the administration of justice. You have seen
how often, in a moment of voluntary madness occasioned by drink, a life’s
character has been sacrificed, the brand of felon impressed on the brow, and free
labour exchanged for that which is profitless, compulsory, and ignominious to the
workman, within the walls of your prison! It would be unjust, however, not to say
that exhausting labour, and the companionship of those who are together so
exhausted, supply but too many temptations to seek the refreshment and
exhilaration afforded by liquor, and which soon degenerates, from an occasional
enjoyment, into an accursed habit. Home soon ceases to be home, to him who
returns to it under the guilty delirium of intoxication: there, weeping and starving
wife and children appear like dismal spectres flitting before his bloodshot eye and
reeling brain. As the husband frequents the dramshop, so he drives his wretched
wife the oftener to the pawn-shop, and her and his children at length to the
workhouse; or perhaps in her desperation—but I dare not proceed! The coroner
can tell the rest.
“Look at yonder desolate little room, at the end of a dreary court; a funeral goes
out from it in the morning! Enter this evening. All is silent, and a single candle on
the mantel-piece sheds a dull flickering light on a coffin, not yet screwed down.
Beside it sits morally a murderer; his bloated face is hid in his shaking hands; he
has not yet ventured to move aside the coffin lid, but at length he dares to look at
his poor victim—his broken-hearted wife! Poor, poor soul! thou art gone at last!
Gone, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest! ’Tis a
happy release, say the friendly neighbours, who have contributed their little means
to lay her decently in her coffin. Ay, besotted husband! let your bloodshot eyes look
on that white face, that wreck of a face so sweet and pretty when you married her!
Never fear! the eyes are closed, and will weep and look mournfully at you no more!
Touch, if you dare, those limbs, which the woman who laid them out said, with a
sigh, were mere skin and bone! Dare you take hold of her cold hand and look at her
wedding-ring? Do you see how her finger is worn with the needle? During the day,
during the night, this poor creature was your willing slave, mending your linen,
and that of your wronged children, and what was left of her own, and which are
nearly rags. Do you hear those children sobbing in the next room? Do you see the
scar on that cheek? Look and tremble. Have you forgotten the blow that caused it,
given by your hand of drunken and ruffian violence? Yet she never reproached you!
And when at length, worn away with misery, starvation, and ill-usage, she was
forced to give up the struggle for life, her last—her very last act was gently and in
silence to squeeze your unworthy hand! Perhaps remorse is now shaking your
heart, and you inwardly groan—

‘Oh, if she would but come again,

I think I’d grieve her so no more!’

She will come no more on earth, but you will have to meet her again! So, man,
close the coffin lid! Go to bed, and sleep if you can! The funeral is in the morning,
and you must follow the poor emaciated body close past your favourite dramshop!”

As befitted the audience, it is manual or mechanical labour that Mr

Warren in his essay chiefly concerns himself with. But so eminent an
author cannot be insensible to the still nobler labour of the Mind, or
to the grand and touching lives of so many of its votaries. Manual
labour may appear harder than some kinds of intellectual pursuits,
but it cannot be carried to the same excess. It is less fatal, because
less alluring. The labour of the hands does not kill like the labour of
the head. It is not the lower classes alone that work. Mr Warren well
says:—

“The working-classes! Are those not worthy of the name, and in its very highest
sense, few in number, comparatively, though they be, who by their prodigious
powers of thought make those discoveries in science which have given tenfold
efficacy and value to labour, turned it suddenly into a thousand new channels, and
conferred on all classes of society new conveniences and enjoyments? Are we to
overlook those great intellects which have devoted themselves to statesmanship, to
jurisprudence, to morals, to the science of medicine—securing and advancing the
best interests of mankind, and relieving them from physical anguish and misery;
the noble genius devoted to literature, refining, expanding, and elevating the
minds of all capable of it, and whose immortal works are glittering like stars of the
first magnitude in the hemisphere of thought and imagination? No, my friends; let
us not be so unjust, ungrateful, or unthinking; let us rather be thankful to God for
giving us men of such powers, and opportunity and inclination to use them, not for
their own reputation’s sake alone, but for our advantage; and let us not enhance
the claims of manual, by forgetting or depreciating intellectual labour. I could at
this moment give you a dozen instances within my personal knowledge, of men
whom God has given very little physical strength, but great mental endowments,
and who cheerfully undergo an amount of exhausting labour of which you have no
idea, in conducting public affairs, political and legal, and prosecuting scientific
researches, immortalising the age in which they live.”

Genius in all ages commands the spontaneous homage of

mankind. And it is only just that it should be so. “Tell me,” said an
acute observer of human affairs, “what a few leading minds are
thinking in their closets, and I will tell you what their countrymen
will be thinking in the next generation.” It is the great minds of a
country that most deeply influence its fortunes,—it is the great minds
of the world that mould the progress of our race. These men may live
a life of toil and sacrifices in the cause to which their high powers are
devoted, and may die ere the precious seed sown by them has begun
to germinate. But they do not lose their reward. The fruit comes at
last. Their words enlighten the world, hastening its progress to a
happy goal; while their example of high powers and glorious self-
devotion reaps a rich recompense by inspiriting others through
future ages to follow in their steps. As saith Longfellow,—
“Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of time:
Footprints that perchance another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwreck’d brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again!”
 TOUCHING OXFORD.
A LETTER TO PROFESSOR NEBEL.

My dear Professor!—You see that I have not forgotten the note of

admiration which your countrymen use at the beginning of letters
when they address each other. It is an easy way of giving emphasis to
the greeting, or of expressing the admiration of the writer for the
character of the person written to. When I last saw you at
Dummerjungenberg, I recollect I promised to write you down the
impressions which an intended visit to my old University might
make upon me, and I hasten to fulfil that promise now. It is
superfluous for me to tell you that the two English universities are
essentially different in their constitution from a German university,
as you are well acquainted theoretically with the constitutions of
both. I maintain that each kind is good, and answers its own end.
The German university fully answers its purpose of making men
learned, but the stamp of character which it affixes to the man is
evanescent, and does not follow him through life. According to the
language of the Bursch or German student, as soon as a man has
ceased to be a student, he falls back again, as a matter of course, into
the Philisterium, or limbo of the Philistines, which is the student’s
term to designate the uncovenanted class, which comprises all
mankind excepting the student. On the other hand, we speak of men
for the whole of life as Oxford or Cambridge men much more than
we do of them as Göttingen or Leipzig men, inferring by this mode of
expression that they have been, as it were, fed on the milk of Alma
Mater, which continues through the whole of life to affect their
constitutions in a peculiar manner. So highly do some of our men
think of this influence, that they dread too much infusion of the
Germanic element, as dangerous to this peculiar quality of our
universities of forming and stamping the whole man, instead of
merely the logical part of him. I recollect well that at a meeting of
Convocation at Oxford, when some material changes were brought
under consideration, no sentiment was more highly applauded than
one which concluded the Latin speech of a talented polemical
churchman, when he said, “Hanc Universitatem Germanizari non
volo”—“I protest against this university being Germanised;”—by
which he plainly meant, not that he objected to the widening of its
scope of teaching, but that he feared that mere instruction would
usurp too much prominence in the scheme of education, and throw
into the shade that general moral training which is now a most
essential part of the system. One of the feelings, to speak
individually, that I should be sorry to lose is that which this very
name of Alma Mater implies. The word “Almus” is one of the most
beautiful in the Latin language; it means that whose nature is to
cherish, nourish, inspire with life. Thus, Venus is called “Alma” by
the ancients, as representing the principle of life in nature; Ceres is
also called “Alma,” as being the goddess that supplies the staff of life.
If it be true, as Mr Carlyle says, that our word “lady” is derived from
two old words, meaning a giver of loaves, it would be a good
translation of the word “Alma.” And desirable it certainly is, that the
word “lady” should bear this fulness of meaning; the function of
woman, in her beautiful ideal, being to give life, to support life, and
to make life worth living. And the poet saw the matter truly, as poets
generally do the most truly, when he said—
“Woman, dear woman, in whose name,
Wife, sister, mother meet,
Thine is the heart by earliest claim,
And thine its latest beat.”

Now, to every Oxford man, his Lady Mother, or Alma Mater, in the
transcendental sense, is his university, occupying nearly as high a
place in his heart as Our Lady occupies in that of the devout Catholic.
And this much I can say from experience. As Hercules could do
nothing in wrestling against the giant Antæus, the son of the Earth,
as long as he persisted in throwing him, seeing that whenever he fell
in his mother’s lap he gained new strength, so is it with myself; the
world never throws me,—I never am cast down by circumstances, but
a thrill from the warm bosom of Alma Mater, as powerful but more
enduring than galvanism, inspires me with a new life, and I rise with
fresh courage and fresh heart to the wrestling-match of life.
I have lately visited my old University after a long absence, and
found its outward aspect fair as ever—nay, rather fairer and fresher
than ever. Changed it is undoubtedly, but changed for the better.
Much that is new and tasteful, at the same time—a rare accident in
our times—has been added, and the hand of Time has been arrested,
and that which was decayed or destroyed has been restored with
affectionate fidelity. One of the greatest improvements, to my mind,
has been effected by the railroad, which was at first greatly feared as
a revolutionary agent. It has diverted from the main thoroughfares
that brawling stream of traffic which formerly flowed through them
in the shape of stage-coaches, stage-waggons, and other properties
and accessories of the stage, and left the town to its genuine
academical character of a dignified repose. Although this change
gives to the town, in the eyes of commercial travellers, a somewhat
dead-alive appearance, and although a similar change in other places
seems to take away truly the only life they possessed, it seems, on the
contrary, to have withdrawn an unpleasant intrusion from Oxford,
and left her to the dignified retirement from the world of bustle and
action, in which she most delights.
Oxford is a town which, for its medieval beauty, deserves to be
kept under a glass-case; and nothing can be more advantageous to its
academical character, than diverting from its walls the turbid current
of commerce which belongs to this much-bepraised nineteenth
century. This the railroad has achieved most effectually. There is still
abundance of life in the streets, but life in unison with the history of
the place; and suddenly whirled as one is by the express train from
the turmoil of London to the repose of Oxford, with its lines of
venerable colleges, and troops of sombre but graceful gowned
figures, one experiences a feeling as of having been transported in a
trance on the carpet of the Arabian Nights from one place to another.
Never did the High Street appear so broad or so beautiful as now that
its area is uninvaded by the rattle of vulgar vehicles. The time to see
it to perfection is when the sun happens to set behind the opening at
Carfax Church, dazzling the eye at its focus, and forcing shafts of
amber light out along the fronts of St Mary’s and All Saint’s
churches, and the fantastic façade of Queen’s College. This is a
condition which presents one of the finest town-views in the world
that can be seen where there are no mountains in the case. There is
much similarity between Oxford and the grand old Flemish towns;
and the railway has been a boon to them, as it has been to her, in
preserving their quiet character. Unlike other English towns, the
inhabitants of which point with an ignorant pride to the substitution
of stucco-fronted houses, and cockney plate-glass, for the cross-
beamed gables and lattices, all the architectural changes which have
taken place of late years in Oxford appear to have been for the better.
One is certainly sorry to see the time-corroded and weather-beaten
stone disappearing from the faces of the colleges, and new freestone
appearing in its place; but this change, though one that we may sigh
over as even over the seasonal changes of nature, is, in reality, of a
conservative character, and its absolute necessity is an unanswerable
plea. The nature of the stone of which most of the colleges are built
being such as to peculiarly expose it to wear and tear of weather, we
are not sorry to see it replaced by a material which looks durable in
its novelty, and to many generations yet to come will become more
beautiful with age. No expense has been spared in these reparations;
and the stranger will be peculiarly struck with the manner in which
they have been carried out in many of the principal buildings. In
Oxford alone, of all the towns in England, domestic architecture
appears properly subordinate to that devoted to public purposes; and
as she grows in beauty with each addition, her inhabitants may be
one day allowed to boast as the Romans of the olden time,
“Privatus illis census erat brevis,
Commune magnum,”

for the splendour of her public buildings will quickly dwarf the most
ambitious attempts of private proprietors; and one good result of the
communal, or, as a Cantab would rather say, combinational life of
Oxford, is the prospect that things will be achieved there by bodies of
men imbued with the “genius loci,” which would surpass the
aspiration, taste, or indeed ability of most individuals to accomplish
elsewhere. So should it ever be. What can the use be of any
individual, whose establishment does not assume palatial
proportions, pluming himself on the possession of architectural
decorations, or masterpieces of painting or sculpture, which, added
to a public gallery, would give delight and instruction to thousands,
instead of administering to the pleasures of a few? I do not know
whether you have ever visited Oxford. If you have, I may remind you,
though unnecessarily, that, besides the world-renowned High Street,
there are two other streets in it not less characteristic—one the Broad
Street, parallel with it for a part of its length; and the other St Giles’s,
a continuation of the Corn Market, running at right angles to the
High Street from Oxford Cross. The Broad Street is one of those
areas reminding us of Continental cities, where the population might
be mustered in arms if necessary. It was in the middle of this that
Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were martyred; and at its junction
with St Giles’s is now set up an elegant Gothic monument, something
in the manner of Sir Walter Scott’s at Edinburgh, to perpetuate the
memory of that event. St Giles’s is a most remarkable street. It has a
church at its commencement and near its end, where it branches into
two roads. It is so spacious that the houses on each side, irregularly
built as they are, and ought to be, appear diminutive; and between
the houses and the central road, on each side, is a row of trees, which
gives it the appearance of a boulevard. On entering it, you have on
the right the new buildings of Baliol, and farther on, the more
ancient face of St John’s College; facing which are the new Taylor
Buildings—a structure with which much fault has been found, as a
weak centre on the side towards Beaumont Street appears to carry
two heavy wings, but which must be allowed on all hands to conduce
greatly to the adorning of its site, and indeed of the town generally. It
is in this street that fountains, judiciously placed, would add much to
the general effect; but many may doubt whether fountains would
ever have other than an unnatural and artificial aspect in England,
where the wetness of the atmosphere renders drier objects
pleasanter to look upon. There are two seasons of the year when
fountains are especially agreeable—in the summer heats, when it is
delightful to be within reach of their spray; and in frost, when they
are draped with pendulous icicles of the most fantastic beauty—a
phenomenon I have indeed seen on the little fountain in the Botanic
Garden at Oxford. Both these seasons are generally with us of short
duration, and during all the rest, fountains to many would be
somewhat of an eyesore, and create a shivering sensation. Those in
Trafalgar Square count as nothing. As for the Crystal Palace and
Versailles fountains, and all of the same description, people delight
in them more for their mechanical cleverness than their artistic
effect, and they are things got up for holiday occasions, not meant to
form parts of the scenes of everyday life, like the fountains of Italy, or
the gossip-haunted Brunnen of Germany. I fear then that, for the
present, Oxford must be contented with her rivers, and not babble of
fountains. She is one of the few large towns singularly blest with the
presence of ever-flowing and ever-living water. The Isis runs beside
her, covered with a fleet of pleasure-boats, probably as large as that
of Athens during the Peloponnesian war, to which it has been wittily
compared, and in the summer days, swarming in and out amongst
each other like the gondolas of Venice. The Cherwell, which is a river
as large as the famed Cam, or nearly so, encircles the meadows of
Christchurch and Magdalen, and, with its sinuous course, and banks
overshadowed with trees, presents numberless nooks of beauty, and
spots of refuge from the heats of summer. The avenue in
Christchurch meadow is second to none in the world, perhaps
superior to all, though there are many like it; for instance, the avenue
at Cambridge, which was compared by Porson to a college fellowship,
as a long dreary vista with a church at the end of it; the avenue by the
Severn, in the Quarries at Shrewsbury: that of the University of
Bonn, and others at royal residences, and near places of academic
retirement. In connection with this avenue, it is well to mention that
there is a time-honoured custom prevalent in the University, of
making it a general promenade on the Sunday in Commemoration-
week, which generally occurs towards the end of the leafy month of
June. On that day, most of the members of the University are to be
seen in their distinctive dresses; and those are considered happy who
are accompanied with friends, called, from their object in visiting the
University, “lions and lionesses;” nor is the wealth and beauty of the
city unrepresented. From this custom arises the name of “Show
Sunday.”
The rivers afford an inexhaustible source of amusement, at a cheap
and easy rate, to the gownsmen, who luxuriate in all sorts of boats,
according to their activity or laziness—the energetic eight-oar, the
social four-oar, the friendly pair-oar, the fantastic canoe, the
adventurous outrigger-skiff, the dreamy sailing-boat, and the sleepy
punt, the latter having come into fashion chiefly of late years, and in
the hot season, and being a method of amusement which, at the price
of the violent exertion of one of the party, purchases the perfect
repose of the rest, who lie on their backs in boating-dresses, cigar in
mouth, and the last work of Dickens or Thackeray, chosen for its
lightness, in hand, and watch over the sides the swimmings of their
Skye terriers. This peculiar dog, distinguished from all others by its
sagacity, fidelity, and an ugliness which has worn into beauty, is now
quite a part of the University system; yet I remember when the first
was introduced into Oxford, and considered so remarkable that he
gave his master the name among the townsmen of the “gentleman
what belongs to the dog.” The poor little fellow had to suffer much
for his resemblance to a door-mat, before his position was fully
recognised.
Next in importance to the colleges and rivers of Oxford are the
gardens. With the latter we must include the college-meadows, which
are composed of a real meadow in the centre, surrounded by a
planted gravel-walk, bounded generally, on the outer side, by one of
the rivers. These gardens, though private, are liberally opened by the
college authorities to the public, and, occupying a large part of the
area of the town, they invite the residents to a number of short walks
and lounges, the temptation to which in other towns is generally
wanting, but which must be most conducive to health. In some of
them—as in St John’s—the members of the college amuse themselves
with archery, in others with bowls—a truly after-dinner recreation;
while in the park that is attached to the grounds of Magdalen College
the eye is gladdened by the sight of a number of browsing deer, who
become singularly tame in consequence of the attentions of the
Fellows. Well might Macaulay call it “their pleasant abode” of
Magdalen! Magdalen is now rendered even more pleasant to some
minds by the choral service of the Church of England having been
brought to perfection in its chapel, so that its members can never
attend Divine service without their ears being charmed by the most
exquisite music. Others may be of opinion that the service solemnly
read produces an effect which is appreciable by all rather than by a
few of peculiar temperament. I do not take upon myself to strike the
balance. In two other colleges is the service sung instead of being
said—namely, in St John’s and New Colleges, and these three
colleges are naturally a source of great attraction to strangers—so
much so, that the chapels being of limited dimensions, admission to
them has of necessity been made a favour. In the chapels at Oxford,
customs have been perpetuated from time immemorial, which would
shock rigid Protestantism, unless inured to them by habitual contact
—such as the lighting of candles on the altar, and painted altar-
pieces, instead of the Commandments-table which is usual in
Anglican churches. Be this as it may, the attendance at morning
chapel, which is enforced on the junior members, and sometimes
considered by them a grievance, becomes in time so much a habit
that they feel the want of it when they become parochial clergymen,
and in many cases endeavour to perpetuate it by daily services
(having certainly the letter of the law of their Church on their side),
with considerable success indeed in some town parishes, and among
the richer classes; but with doubtful result in the rural districts,
where the peculiar habits of the labouring poor scarcely seem to
allow them to fall in with it to any great extent.
While on the subject of Oxford, you naturally wish me to say what
I think generally of the system of education of the place. I will tell
you, then, in short, that I consider it the best possible system of
education to form the character of a man and a gentleman. Do you
ask me why? I answer that it is so for this simple reason—that it
tends to develop in the fairest manner all the various energies of that
many-sided creature, Man. There are two sorts of education at
Oxford, as at our public schools—one enforced by law, the other
dependent on social customs: both have their full sway at Oxford.
Thus we have a practical illustration of the strongest kind of the
Platonic theory of education. Plato very properly thought that the
development of the bodily powers was almost of as much
consequence as that of the mental, and accordingly enjoined that
education in his Utopia should consist of music and gymnastics. By
music he understood all that falls into the province of either of the
nine Muses. By gymnastics he understood not a dreary tugging at
ropes, and hugging of bars, and climbing ladders with hands, but a
simultaneous exercise of mind and body in pastimes where the body
is deceived by the mind into activity, and cheated into wholesome
weariness—such as contests of strength and passages of arms,
hunting, fowling, and the like. Even so at Oxford physical education
is complete; and although it does not form a subject of examination
in the schools under the new system, it is carried perhaps to greater
perfection than any other kind, and therefore we may conclude that
the Royal Commission does well to leave it where it stands. These
Oxford gymnastics (using the word always in its special and Platonic
sense) are for the greater part perfectly consistent with the “musical”
part of the system which emanates from authority. Occasionally,
however, those sports, which, as a Catholic founder of one of the
colleges said, “miram atque incredibilem delectationem afferunt”
(showing that the old boy himself, though he wished to see his
seminary like a bee-hive, thoroughly appreciated them), interfere
with the hours devoted to study; and therefore fox-hunting, which I
especially allude to, is generally discouraged by the Dons even in the
case of those students who are able to afford it. The delicious
languor, so unlike the rude and partial fatigue resulting from any
other exercise, which pervades the whole system after a good day’s
riding, and gives a Parisian savour to the plainest dinner, is of course
fatal for the rest of the day to any other intellectual work; for who
shall deny that hunting is intellectual work?—intellectual for the
hounds, who have the sagest of beasts to outwit—intellectual for the
horses, who have the safest footing to choose in a moment of time,
and the exactest distances to measure; intellectual for the rider, who
requires the eye of an eagle and the judgment of a Solon to know
where he ought to be, not to mention the huntsman and M. H.,
whose whole lives, if they take deep interest in the matter, as they
generally do, must be spent in intense thought? An excellent exercise
it is of mind, undoubtedly, but fatal to other exercises of a less
absorbing character, and therefore consistently discouraged by the
Dons. The same may be said of driving. Driving is at best but a lazy
exercise; and though it requires skill, it is not sufficiently gymnastic;
besides, it is expensive, and presents no advantage corresponding to
the expense. But we cannot help thinking that if the thunders of each
university Zeus had been less lavishly launched against tandem-
driving in particular, this antiquated practice, very good in peculiar
countries, but generally merely a puppyish display, would have died
out of itself. There is always a peculiar sweetness to young minds in
forbidden pleasures.
But boating and cricket and football, tennis, rackets, fives, and
billiards, still please, although there is nothing illegitimate about
them, and are perfectly consistent with the earnest pursuits of the
place. With regard to billiards, I must just observe that this
fascinating game has in a great measure lost its reputation, from the
fact that the billiard-room is in most English towns the rendezvous of
all the blackguardism of the place; but in Oxford the billiard-rooms
are private, and engaged by each party of players; they are an
especial refuge on wet days, nor can I see any exception that can be
taken to the pastime, save when it degenerates into the public pool,
becomes a species of gambling, and loses its real character, which is
that of a game of skill, quite as much as that of chess, combined with
gentle exercise. As there is not the slightest danger of the studies I
have mentioned falling into desuetude, so have they been with good
judgment overlooked by the University authorities, and as they
present in every phase an examination of themselves, it has not been
found necessary to create any special honours as a reward for
proficiency in them. The universal existence of this gymnastic
education in Oxford, superadded to a peculiar keenness and
dampness in the air, induces an appetite which can only be satisfied
by what appears to strangers an unusual amount of eating and
drinking. In the latter particular there is indeed a great
improvement. Excess in quantity is extremely rare even among
extravagant students; but the fiery wines of Portugal and Spain still
hold their ground against all comers, and public opinion is decidedly
in their favour—so much so, that others are treated with a sort of
contempt. It is said that on the occasion of the visit of a great
personage to the sister University, whose habits bear a strong
resemblance to those of Oxford, when the servants of that personage
sent a complaint to the entertainer,—a Head of a House,—that they
were only supplied with port when they were used to claret, he sent
back a message to them that the college port, with a due admixture of
pump-water, would make the best claret in the world. The
substantial nature of an Oxford breakfast, enough of itself to convert
Bishop Berkeley to a belief in the existence of Matter, is in itself an
evidence that the potations of the preceding night have seldom been
immoderate. With regard to that part of the education of the place, to
the furtherance of which its gymnastics and good fare are supposed
only to administer, it is truly “musical” in the Greek sense of the
word. Of music, as we understand it, there is certainly little as yet
enjoined; but every encouragement is given to its culture by chanted
services in certain chapels, by a liberal allowance of concerts
sanctioned by authority, by doctor’s degrees conferred in it, with a
most splendid gown worthy of Apollo himself if he ever wore one; by
especially the Grand Commemoration festival, at which the first
public singers are often engaged. On the whole, there is a great taste
in Oxford for this beautiful art, which requires little forcing, for it
grows of itself in the climate of the place. This taste is especially
shown by the liberality with which brass-bands playing your national
airs are remunerated; but important as it is, it is sometimes found to
interfere with the soundless but sounder elements of education, and
therefore it becomes necessary in certain cases to check it. The rooms
of the men have in general such thin partitions, that the noise of one
seriously interferes with the silence of another. I once knew a reading
man in —— College, who was placed between two pianofortes, one
overhead, and the other underfoot: he especially complained of the
interruption on Sundays, as on that day his more celestial neighbour
played sacred tunes, while his neighbour of the nether world played
profane, producing a discord in mid-air as ludicrous as painful to an
ear of taste. But I take it that the sense in which music is used in old
scholastic Latin, is in general the Platonic sense, and thus the Music
school at Oxford means one not especially devoted to exercises in
what we call music, but to exercises on examination in belles lettres.
That this term has acquired a broader significance by the recent
changes in the Oxford University system, I cannot but think a subject
for congratulation. When the University departed as a general
principle from the practice of making verse-writing in the dead
languages the mainspring of erudition in them—a practice still far
from obsolete in the public schools of England—it became necessary,
if only to take up the time of the students, and prevent them from
lapsing into intellectual inanition, to supply them with other food
congenial to the spirit of the place. The germ of these new studies
had existed before, and only required development. There could be
no better foundation for culture in modern history and jurisprudence
than the exact study of the ancient historians of Greece and Rome
pursued under the old system. Even so with mathematics. The
modern examinations are, for the most part, mere distributions of
the former work, and by getting part of it over sooner, the student is
less puzzled as to the disposal of his time. But the paucity of
candidates for mathematical honours, in comparison with those who
cling to belles lettres, is a sign that the exact sciences are still exotics
in the atmosphere of Oxford; and as long as the spirit of the place
remains what it is, they are scarcely likely to become otherwise. Nor
are the physical sciences apparently likely to acquire soon a hold on
the popular feeling of the University. Still, as before, the pivot around
which Oxford studies revolve is formed by the solid metal of the
ancient classical authors, whose words are picturesque and
statuesque, and fraught with the same eternal beauty, the same
adaptability as models for all time, as the things that the hands of
their contemporaries produced. Although as yet no school of modern
languages has been formed in which examination in them forms a
part of the University system, yet every encouragement has been
given to the study of them by the foundation of a professorship
supported by public teacherships; and even if nothing more is done,
there is every reason to think that, supported as it is by the
cosmopolitan position which our country has taken of late years, this
important branch of literature will sufficiently nourish in Oxford.
So far it appears that the changes which have been made in the
constitution of Oxford have been of a conservative character—the
reforms have destroyed nothing, but developed a great deal that
formerly lay dormant in the University system. They will continue to
be of this character if the University is allowed abundance of light
and air and space to put forth its own energies, and not damaged by
injudicious meddling from without. There have been rumours of
further changes, some of which are apparently called for by the
necessities of the time, while others have merely been engendered by
the inventiveness of the spirit of innovation. One peculiarly delicate
subject has been brought on the tapis, which, although I hold an
opinion of my own respecting it, I should prefer stating in the
position of one balancing two conflicting views, as far as my
prejudice admits. I mean the celibacy of the Fellows. In the first
place, if it is true that women are like a church, because there is no
living without them, a proposition I heard the other day in the form
of a riddle, the business is settled at once, because it is cruelty to
condemn any body of men to a living grave; but, on the other hand, if
the men themselves acquiesce in this social burial, and refuse to be
delivered from it, they have undeniably a voice in the matter, even
though it be from the catacombs, and ought to be heard in a manner
so nearly and dearly affecting their own interests. The defenders of
the present system have a great advantage in being able to raise a
laugh against those who from within advocate a change, alleging that
they have some gentle reasons for doing so. We are a nation
peculiarly sensitive to being placed in a ridiculous position, and it
requires no small amount of moral courage for any man who is a
member of a body to start opinions which the rest, though they may
in their hearts sympathise with, are not immediately prepared to fall
in with. It must be allowed that the outcry against collegiate celibacy
has been louder outside than inside the walls of common rooms. It
may be said, on the other side, that the voices of those without are
not stifled by the fear of snubbing and ridicule as those within are,
and that those who see the effect of a system on others are better
qualified to judge than those whose own minds are biassed by its
pressure. Those who work in mines and live in unwholesome air only
feel by diminished energy the evil effects of the miasma they have to
breathe, while those who live apart from them see it in their pale and
haggard looks. It is not the bondsman in general who calls for
emancipation so loudly as the spectator who has tasted the sweets of
freedom. To come to a practical aspect of the question; it is urged by
the advocates of emancipation that celibacy was part of the religious
system under which the colleges were founded, and that as that
religious system has ceased to exist in reference to them, there is no
object in keeping up a restriction which can have no such motive;
and to those who would urge that the intentions of the founders
ought to be consulted as that of any testator ought to be, it is
answered that it is hypocrisy to pretend to consult the wills of
founders in a matter which is merely a corollary to a rule which has
been essentially broken through, and that the wills of founders are
even in this instance nullified by the marriage of heads of colleges,
who being of necessity priests by the statutes under the papal regime,
would render such a prohibition in their cases superfluous. Again,
those who are for continuing the celibacy system urge that a
fellowship is intended only as a stepping-stone to a permanent
provision in the view of the world, and that to allow the marriage of
Fellows would render the succession so slow as to destroy the
practical value of the foundations. To this is opposed the statement
that in fact men are well content to settle down on a fellowship,
which is indeed a premium on indolence, and that they acquire, even
if industrious, habits of expense, which make them loth to part with a
large proportion of their incomes without grave cause, so that in fact
many men do continue Fellows until late in life, when they care
naturally less about marriage; and moreover, that the slowness of
succession might equally be urged in the case of livings which only
become vacant by death, and that for the same reason it would be
equally reasonable to enforce the celibacy of bishops were they not
expressly commanded to be husbands, as some interpret Scripture;
yet more, the fellowship might be made tenable for a certain number
of years only, and superannuation might not entail, as it does now,
the loss of the chance of college patronage to livings. Some satirical
writers have drawn a humorous picture of the condition of colleges
with sets of rooms inhabited by family Fellows, the quadrangles
turned into play-grounds, and the sacred grass-plots invaded by
nursemaids with their charges, still further presuming to imagine
intestine feuds between jealous fellowinnen (as you Germans would
call them), which they think would be incompatible with the feeling
of collegiate brotherhood or sisterhood. To this it may be answered,
that, as it is, the majority of Fellows reside in the country, and are
otherwise occupied than with collegiate duties, and there would be
less inducement than formerly for the plural Fellow to content
himself with the limited accommodation of a college; and it would be
easy to make a rule that a certain number of the Fellows,—that is to
say, of the younger, should reside to undertake the offices; and even
if they were married, those offices should only continue so long as to
incur no danger of their inundating the quadrangles with urchins.
The worst of it is, that the Oxford education has a peculiar tendency
to develop the poetical and artistic temperament; and to men of this
temperament, who are, in all countries, in a much larger proportion
to others than is generally thought, the long vista of celibacy is little
else than a long perspective of purgatory. To all who love the
beautiful, whether saints or sinners, there is one central point round
which all their thoughts revolve—one standard by which all their
comparisons are made,—and that is none other than woman. The
musical mind is drawn to her through the symphonies of Mozart or
Handel—through the complicated opera strain, and the simple
national air—
“The soul of love and bravery;”

for even the hero-songs of war, by arousing the manliness of man,

suggest the loveliness of woman. The artistic mind is drawn to her
through all the schools of painting—through even the sumptuous
Madonnas which the sacred painters have imagined, as through the
sun-warm but less heavenly creations of Titian or Correggio. It is
impossible for the artistic eye to look at the symmetry of a tree or the