Autobiography of Andrew Carnegie
The name of a dear man comes to me just here, Dr. Oliver Wendell
Holmes, of Boston, everybody's doctor, whose only ailment toward the
end was being eighty years of age. He was a boy to the last. When
Matthew Arnold died a few friends could not resist taking steps toward
a suitable memorial to his memory. These friends quietly provided the
necessary sum, as no public appeal could be thought of. No one could
be permitted to contribute to such a fund except such as had a right
to the privilege, for privilege it was felt to be. Double, triple the
sum could readily have been obtained. I had the great satisfaction of
being permitted to join the select few and to give the matter a little
attention upon our side of the Atlantic. Of course I never thought of
mentioning the matter to dear Dr. Holmes--not that he was not one of
the elect, but that no author or professional man should be asked to
contribute money to funds which, with rare exceptions, are best
employed when used for themselves. One morning, however, I received a
note from the doctor, saying that it had been whispered to him that
there was such a movement on foot, and that I had been mentioned in
connection with it, and if he were judged worthy to have his name upon
the roll of honor, he would be gratified. Since he had heard of it he
could not rest without writing to me, and he should like to hear in
reply. That he was thought worthy goes without saying.
This is the kind of memorial any man might wish. I venture to say that
there was not one who contributed to it who was not grateful to the
kind fates for giving him the opportunity.
CHAPTER XXIII
BRITISH POLITICAL LEADERS
In London, Lord Rosebery, then in Gladstone's Cabinet and a rising
statesman, was good enough to invite me to dine with him to meet Mr.
Gladstone, and I am indebted to him for meeting the world's first
citizen. This was, I think, in 1885, for my "Triumphant Democracy"[63]
appeared in 1886, and I remember giving Mr. Gladstone, upon that
occasion, some startling figures which I had prepared for it.
[Footnote 63: _Triumphant Democracy, or Fifty Years' March of the
Republic._ London and New York, 1886.]
I never did what I thought right in a social matter with greater
self-denial, than when later the first invitation came from Mr.
Gladstone to dine with him. I was engaged to dine elsewhere and sorely
tempted to plead that an invitation from the real ruler of Great
Britain should be considered as much of a command as that of the
ornamental dignitary. But I kept my engagement and missed the man I
most wished to meet. The privilege came later, fortunately, when
subsequent visits to him at Hawarden were made.
Lord Rosebery opened the first library I ever gave, that of
Dunfermline, and he has recently (1905) opened the latest given by
me--one away over in Stornoway. When he last visited New York I drove
him along the Riverside Drive, and he declared that no city in the
world possessed such an attraction. He was a man of brilliant parts,
but his resolutions were
"Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought."
Had he been born to labor and entered the House of Commons in youth,
instead of being dropped without effort into the gilded upper chamber,
he might have acquired in the rough-and-tumble of life the tougher
skin, for he was highly sensitive and lacked tenacity of purpose
essential to command in political life. He was a charming speaker--a
eulogist with the lightest touch and the most graceful style upon
certain themes of any speaker of his day. [Since these lines were
written he has become, perhaps, the foremost eulogist of our race. He
has achieved a high place. All honor to him!]
One morning I called by appointment upon him. After greetings he took
up an envelope which I saw as I entered had been carefully laid on his
desk, and handed it to me, saying:
"I wish you to dismiss your secretary."
"That is a big order, Your Lordship. He is indispensable, and a
Scotsman," I replied. "What is the matter with him?"
"This isn't your handwriting; it is his. What do you think of a man
who spells Rosebery with two _r's_?"
I said if I were sensitive on that point life would not be endurable
for me. "I receive many letters daily when at home and I am sure that
twenty to thirty per cent of them mis-spell my name, ranging from
'Karnaghie' to 'Carnagay.'"
But he was in earnest. Just such little matters gave him great
annoyance. Men of action should learn to laugh at and enjoy these
small things, or they themselves may become "small." A charming
personality withal, but shy, sensitive, capricious, and reserved,
qualities which a few years in the Commons would probably have
modified.
When he was, as a Liberal, surprising the House of Lords and creating
some stir, I ventured to let off a little of my own democracy upon
him.
"Stand for Parliament boldly. Throw off your hereditary rank,
declaring you scorn to accept a privilege which is not the right of
every citizen. Thus make yourself the real leader of the people, which
you never can be while a peer. You are young, brilliant, captivating,
with the gift of charming speech. No question of your being Prime
Minister if you take the plunge."
To my surprise, although apparently interested, he said very quietly:
"But the House of Commons couldn't admit me as a peer."
"That's what I should hope. If I were in your place, and rejected, I
would stand again for the next vacancy and force the issue. Insist
that one having renounced his hereditary privileges becomes elevated
to citizenship and is eligible for any position to which he is
elected. Victory is certain. That's playing the part of a Cromwell.
Democracy worships a precedent-breaker or a precedent-maker."
We dropped the subject. Telling Morley of this afterward, I shall
never forget his comment:
"My friend, Cromwell doesn't reside at Number 38 Berkeley Square."
Slowly, solemnly spoken, but conclusive.
Fine fellow, Rosebery, only he was handicapped by being born a peer.
On the other hand, Morley, rising from the ranks, his father a surgeon
hard-pressed to keep his son at college, is still "Honest John,"
unaffected in the slightest degree by the so-called elevation to the
peerage and the Legion of Honor, both given for merit. The same with
"Bob" Reid, M.P., who became Earl Loreburn and Lord High Chancellor,
Lord Haldane, his successor as Chancellor; Asquith, Prime Minister,
Lloyd George, and others. Not even the rulers of our Republic to-day
are more democratic or more thorough men of the people.
When the world's foremost citizen passed away, the question was, Who
is to succeed Gladstone; who can succeed him? The younger members of
the Cabinet agreed to leave the decision to Morley. Harcourt or
Campbell-Bannerman? There was only one impediment in the path of the
former, but that was fatal--inability to control his temper. The issue
had unfortunately aroused him to such outbursts as really unfitted him
for leadership, and so the man of calm, sober, unclouded judgment was
considered indispensable.
I was warmly attached to Harcourt, who in turn was a devoted admirer
of our Republic, as became the husband of Motley's daughter. Our
census and our printed reports, which I took care that he should
receive, interested him deeply. Of course, the elevation
of the representative of my native town of Dunfermline
(Campbell-Bannerman)[64] gave me unalloyed pleasure, the more so since
in returning thanks from the Town House to the people assembled he
used these words:
"I owe my election to my Chairman, Bailie Morrison."
[Footnote 64: Campbell-Bannerman was chosen leader of the Liberal
Party in December, 1898.]
The Bailie, Dunfermline's leading radical, was my uncle. We were
radical families in those days and are so still, both Carnegies and
Morrisons, and intense admirers of the Great Republic, like that one
who extolled Washington and his colleagues as "men who knew and dared
proclaim the royalty of man"--a proclamation worth while. There is
nothing more certain than that the English-speaking race in orderly,
lawful development will soon establish the golden rule of citizenship
through evolution, never revolution:
"The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that."
This feeling already prevails in all the British colonies. The dear
old Motherland hen has ducks for chickens which give her much anxiety
breasting the waves, while she, alarmed, screams wildly from the
shore; but she will learn to swim also by and by.
In the autumn of 1905 Mrs. Carnegie and I attended the ceremony of
giving the Freedom of Dunfermline to our friend, Dr. John Ross,
chairman of the Carnegie Dunfermline Trust, foremost and most zealous
worker for the good of the town. Provost Macbeth in his speech
informed the audience that the honor was seldom conferred, that there
were only three living burgesses--one their member of Parliament, H.
Campbell-Bannerman, then Prime Minister; the Earl of Elgin of
Dunfermline, ex-Viceroy of India, then Colonial Secretary; and the
third myself. This seemed great company for me, so entirely out of the
running was I as regards official station.
The Earl of Elgin is the descendant of The Bruce. Their family vault
is in Dunfermline Abbey, where his great ancestor lies under the Abbey
bell. It has been noted how Secretary Stanton selected General Grant
as the one man in the party who could not possibly be the commander.
One would be very apt to make a similar mistake about the Earl. When
the Scottish Universities were to be reformed the Earl was second on
the committee. When the Conservative Government formed its Committee
upon the Boer War, the Earl, a Liberal, was appointed chairman. When
the decision of the House of Lords brought dire confusion upon the
United Free Church of Scotland, Lord Elgin was called upon as the
Chairman of Committee to settle the matter. Parliament embodied his
report in a bill, and again he was placed at the head to apply it.
When trustees for the Universities of Scotland Fund were to be
selected, I told Prime Minister Balfour I thought the Earl of Elgin as
a Dunfermline magnate could be induced to take the chairmanship. He
said I could not get a better man in Great Britain. So it has proved.
John Morley said to me one day afterwards, but before he had, as a
member of the Dunfermline Trust, experience of the chairman:
"I used to think Elgin about the most problematical public man in high
position I had ever met, but I now know him one of the ablest. Deeds,
not words; judgment, not talk."
Such the descendant of The Bruce to-day, the embodiment of modest
worth and wisdom combined.
Once started upon a Freedom-getting career, there seemed no end to
these honors.[65] With headquarters in London in 1906, I received six
Freedoms in six consecutive days, and two the week following, going
out by morning train and returning in the evening. It might be thought
that the ceremony would become monotonous, but this was not so, the
conditions being different in each case. I met remarkable men in the
mayors and provosts and the leading citizens connected with municipal
affairs, and each community had its own individual stamp and its
problems, successes, and failures. There was generally one greatly
desired improvement overshadowing all other questions engrossing the
attention of the people. Each was a little world in itself. The City
Council is a Cabinet in miniature and the Mayor the Prime Minister.
Domestic politics keep the people agog. Foreign relations are not
wanting. There are inter-city questions with neighboring communities,
joint water or gas or electrical undertakings of mighty import,
conferences deciding for or against alliances or separations.