Autobiography of Andrew Carnegie
of the Old and New Testaments had been discredited by her as unworthy
of divine authorship or of acceptance as authoritative guides for the
conduct of life. I became deeply interested in the mysterious
doctrines of Swedenborg, and received the congratulations of my devout
Aunt Aitken upon my ability to expound "spiritual sense." That dear
old woman fondly looked forward to a time when I should become a
shining light in the New Jerusalem, and I know it was sometimes not
beyond the bounds of her imagination that I might blossom into what
she called a "preacher of the Word."
As I more and more wandered from man-made theology these fond hopes
weakened, but my aunt's interest in and affection for her first
nephew, whom she had dandled on her knee in Scotland, never waned. My
cousin, Leander Morris, whom she had some hopes of saving through the
Swedenborgian revelation, grievously disappointed her by actually
becoming a Baptist and being dipped. This was too much for the
evangelist, although she should have remembered her father passed
through that same experience and often preached for the Baptists in
Edinburgh.
Leander's reception upon his first call after his fall was far from
cordial. He was made aware that the family record had suffered by his
backsliding when at the very portals of the New Jerusalem revealed by
Swedenborg and presented to him by one of the foremost disciples--his
aunt. He began deprecatingly:
"Why are you so hard on me, aunt? Look at Andy, he is not a member of
any church and you don't scold him. Surely the Baptist Church is
better than none."
The quick reply came:
"Andy! Oh! Andy, he's naked, but you are clothed in rags."
He never quite regained his standing with dear Aunt Aitken. I might
yet be reformed, being unattached; but Leander had chosen a sect and
that sect not of the New Jerusalem.
It was in connection with the Swedenborgian Society that a taste for
music was first aroused in me. As an appendix to the hymn-book of the
society there were short selections from the oratorios. I fastened
instinctively upon these, and although denied much of a voice, yet
credited with "expression," I was a constant attendant upon choir
practice. The leader, Mr. Koethen, I have reason to believe, often
pardoned the discords I produced in the choir because of my enthusiasm
in the cause. When, at a later date, I became acquainted with the
oratorios in full, it was a pleasure to find that several of those
considered in musical circles as the gems of Handel's musical
compositions were the ones that I as an ignorant boy had chosen as
favorites. So the beginning of my musical education dates from the
small choir of the Swedenborgian Society of Pittsburgh.
I must not, however, forget that a very good foundation was laid for
my love of sweet sounds in the unsurpassed minstrelsy of my native
land as sung by my father. There was scarcely an old Scottish song
with which I was not made familiar, both words and tune. Folk-songs
are the best possible foundation for sure progress to the heights of
Beethoven and Wagner. My father being one of the sweetest and most
pathetic singers I ever heard, I probably inherited his love of music
and of song, though not given his voice. Confucius' exclamation often
sounds in my ears: "Music, sacred tongue of God! I hear thee calling
and I come."
An incident of this same period exhibits the liberality of my parents
in another matter. As a messenger boy I had no holidays, with the
exception of two weeks given me in the summer-time, which I spent
boating on the river with cousins at my uncle's at East Liverpool,
Ohio. I was very fond of skating, and in the winter about which I am
speaking, the slack water of the river opposite our house was
beautifully frozen over. The ice was in splendid condition, and
reaching home late Saturday night the question arose whether I might
be permitted to rise early in the morning and go skating before church
hours. No question of a more serious character could have been
submitted to ordinary Scottish parents. My mother was clear on the
subject, that in the circumstances I should be allowed to skate as
long as I liked. My father said he believed it was right I should go
down and skate, but he hoped I would be back in time to go with him to
church.
I suppose this decision would be arrived at to-day by nine hundred and
ninety-nine out of every thousand homes in America, and probably also
in the majority of homes in England, though not in Scotland. But those
who hold to-day that the Sabbath in its fullest sense was made for
man, and who would open picture galleries and museums to the public,
and make the day somewhat of a day of enjoyment for the masses instead
of pressing upon them the duty of mourning over sins largely
imaginary, are not more advanced than were my parents forty years ago.
They were beyond the orthodox of the period when it was scarcely
permissible, at least among the Scotch, to take a walk for pleasure or
read any but religious books on the Sabbath.
CHAPTER V
THE TELEGRAPH OFFICE
I had served as messenger about a year, when Colonel John P. Glass,
the manager of the downstairs office, who came in contact with the
public, began selecting me occasionally to watch the office for a few
minutes during his absence. As Mr. Glass was a highly popular man, and
had political aspirations, these periods of absence became longer and
more frequent, so that I soon became an adept in his branch of the
work. I received messages from the public and saw that those that came
from the operating-room were properly assigned to the boys for prompt
delivery.
This was a trying position for a boy to fill, and at that time I was
not popular with the other boys, who resented my exemption from part
of my legitimate work. I was also taxed with being penurious in my
habits--mean, as the boys had it. I did not spend my extra dimes, but
they knew not the reason. Every penny that I could save I knew was
needed at home. My parents were wise and nothing was withheld from me.
I knew every week the receipts of each of the three who were
working--my father, my mother, and myself. I also knew all the
expenditures. We consulted upon the additions that could be made to
our scanty stock of furniture and clothing and every new small article
obtained was a source of joy. There never was a family more united.
Day by day, as mother could spare a silver half-dollar, it was
carefully placed in a stocking and hid until two hundred were
gathered, when I obtained a draft to repay the twenty pounds so
generously lent to us by her friend Mrs. Henderson. That was a day we
celebrated. The Carnegie family was free from debt. Oh, the happiness
of that day! The debt was, indeed, discharged, but the debt of
gratitude remains that never can be paid. Old Mrs. Henderson lives
to-day. I go to her house as to a shrine, to see her upon my visits to
Dunfermline; and whatever happens she can never be forgotten. [As I
read these lines, written some years ago, I moan, "Gone, gone with the
others!" Peace to the ashes of a dear, good, noble friend of my
mother's.]
The incident in my messenger life which at once lifted me to the
seventh heaven, occurred one Saturday evening when Colonel Glass was
paying the boys their month's wages. We stood in a row before the
counter, and Mr. Glass paid each one in turn. I was at the head and
reached out my hand for the first eleven and a quarter dollars as they
were pushed out by Mr. Glass. To my surprise he pushed them past me
and paid the next boy. I thought it was a mistake, for I had
heretofore been paid first, but it followed in turn with each of the
other boys. My heart began to sink within me. Disgrace seemed coming.
What had I done or not done? I was about to be told that there was no
more work for me. I was to disgrace the family. That was the keenest
pang of all. When all had been paid and the boys were gone, Mr. Glass
took me behind the counter and said that I was worth more than the
other boys, and he had resolved to pay me thirteen and a half dollars
a month.
My head swam; I doubted whether I had heard him correctly. He counted
out the money. I don't know whether I thanked him; I don't believe I
did. I took it and made one bound for the door and scarcely stopped
until I got home. I remember distinctly running or rather bounding
from end to end of the bridge across the Allegheny River--inside on
the wagon track because the foot-walk was too narrow. It was Saturday
night. I handed over to mother, who was the treasurer of the family,
the eleven dollars and a quarter and said nothing about the remaining
two dollars and a quarter in my pocket--worth more to me then than all
the millions I have made since.
Tom, a little boy of nine, and myself slept in the attic together, and
after we were safely in bed I whispered the secret to my dear little
brother. Even at his early age he knew what it meant, and we talked
over the future. It was then, for the first time, I sketched to him
how we would go into business together; that the firm of "Carnegie
Brothers" would be a great one, and that father and mother should yet
ride in their carriage. At the time that seemed to us to embrace
everything known as wealth and most of what was worth striving for.
The old Scotch woman, whose daughter married a merchant in London,
being asked by her son-in-law to come to London and live near them,
promising she should "ride in her carriage," replied:
"What good could it do me to ride in a carriage gin I could na be seen
by the folk in Strathbogie?" Father and mother would not only be seen
in Pittsburgh, but should visit Dunfermline, their old home, in style.
On Sunday morning with father, mother, and Tom at breakfast, I
produced the extra two dollars and a quarter. The surprise was great
and it took some moments for them to grasp the situation, but it soon
dawned upon them. Then father's glance of loving pride and mother's
blazing eye soon wet with tears, told their feeling. It was their
boy's first triumph and proof positive that he was worthy of
promotion. No subsequent success, or recognition of any kind, ever
thrilled me as this did. I cannot even imagine one that could. Here
was heaven upon earth. My whole world was moved to tears of joy.
Having to sweep out the operating-room in the mornings, the boys had
an opportunity of practicing upon the telegraph instruments before the
operators arrived. This was a new chance. I soon began to play with
the key and to talk with the boys who were at the other stations who
had like purposes to my own. Whenever one learns to do anything he has
never to wait long for an opportunity of putting his knowledge to use.
One morning I heard the Pittsburgh call given with vigor. It seemed to
me I could divine that some one wished greatly to communicate. I
ventured to answer, and let the slip run. It was Philadelphia that
wanted to send "a death message" to Pittsburgh immediately. Could I
take it? I replied that I would try if they would send slowly. I
succeeded in getting the message and ran out with it. I waited
anxiously for Mr. Brooks to come in, and told him what I had dared to
do. Fortunately, he appreciated it and complimented me, instead of
scolding me for my temerity; yet dismissing me with the admonition to
be very careful and not to make mistakes. It was not long before I was
called sometimes to watch the instrument, while the operator wished to
be absent, and in this way I learned the art of telegraphy.
We were blessed at this time with a rather indolent operator, who was
only too glad to have me do his work. It was then the practice for us
to receive the messages on a running slip of paper, from which the
operator read to a copyist, but rumors had reached us that a man in