Monday, Jan. 16, 1950
Magnificent Sir
It was a report to make U.S. college and university fund raisers sit up with a snap. Education Professor Clara P. McMahon of the Johns Hopkins University had done a little digging in 15th Century fund-raising tactics at Oxford, found 20th Century techniques "pale in comparison." In an article in School and Society she told how it used to be done.
In the first place, the characteristic campaign letter--to graduates, nobles, prelates and merchants--was admirably blunt. If the money was to repair a building, the writer left nothing to the imagination. "No one dares to enter the building," ran one appeal for the school of canon law. "It is surprising that the wind does not bring it down, for the foundations are so far gone as to be beyond repair."
Then came the cajolery. "For example," reported Professor McMahon, "the Bishop of London read that his name would be associated with the building of the divinity school as Solomon's name was with the temple at Jerusalem . . . The Black Monks were . . . flatteringly, if untruthfully, told that 'in fact, the University owes its foundation to you.'
If the money came, the donor was lavishly thanked: "Your name was in every mouth; some wondered at your magnificence, some praised your exalted virtues . . . and indeed, that you are but mortal is our bitterest thought." But if, after the death of a longtime benefactor, no gift was forthcoming from his estate, Oxford's agents tried a sterner approach: they badgered the executors. Sometimes they hinted that the executors had misappropriated gifts meant for the university; sometimes they went to court.
Thus, concludes Professor McMahon, Oxford grew and flourished, even at a time "when feudal wars had drained a great part of England's wealth."
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