Up from Slavery: An Autobiography
approaching Commencement an honorary degree; but it is our custom to
confer degrees only on gentlemen who are present. Our Commencement
occurs this year on June 24, and your presence would be desirable from
about noon till about five o’clock in the afternoon. Would it be
possible for you to be in Cambridge on that day?
Believe me, with great regard,
Very truly yours,
Charles W. Eliot.
This was a recognition that had never in the slightest manner entered
into my mind, and it was hard for me to realize that I was to be
honoured by a degree from the oldest and most renowned university in
America. As I sat upon my veranda, with this letter in my hand, tears
came into my eyes. My whole former life—my life as a slave on the
plantation, my work in the coal-mine, the times when I was without food
and clothing, when I made my bed under a sidewalk, my struggles for an
education, the trying days I had had at Tuskegee, days when I did not
know where to turn for a dollar to continue the work there, the
ostracism and sometimes oppression of my race,—all this passed before
me and nearly overcame me.
I had never sought or cared for what the world calls fame. I have
always looked upon fame as something to be used in accomplishing good.
I have often said to my friends that if I can use whatever prominence
may have come to me as an instrument with which to do good, I am
content to have it. I care for it only as a means to be used for doing
good, just as wealth may be used. The more I come into contact with
wealthy people, the more I believe that they are growing in the
direction of looking upon their money simply as an instrument which God
has placed in their hand for doing good with. I never go to the office
of Mr. John D. Rockefeller, who more than once has been generous to
Tuskegee, without being reminded of this. The close, careful, and
minute investigation that he always makes in order to be sure that
every dollar that he gives will do the most good—an investigation that
is just as searching as if he were investing money in a business
enterprise—convinces me that the growth in this direction is most
encouraging.
At nine o’clock, on the morning of June 24, I met President Eliot, the
Board of Overseers of Harvard University, and the other guests, at the
designated place on the university grounds, for the purpose of being
escorted to Sanders Theatre, where the Commencement exercises were to
be held and degrees conferred. Among others invited to be present for
the purpose of receiving a degree at this time were General Nelson A.
Miles, Dr. Bell, the inventor of the Bell telephone, Bishop Vincent,
and the Rev. Minot J. Savage. We were placed in line immediately behind
the President and the Board of Overseers, and directly afterward the
Governor of Massachusetts, escorted by the Lancers, arrived and took
his place in the line of march by the side of President Eliot. In the
line there were also various other officers and professors, clad in cap
and gown. In this order we marched to Sanders Theatre, where, after the
usual Commencement exercises, came the conferring of the honorary
degrees. This, it seems, is always considered the most interesting
feature at Harvard. It is not known, until the individuals appear, upon
whom the honorary degrees are to be conferred, and those receiving
these honours are cheered by the students and others in proportion to
their popularity. During the conferring of the degrees excitement and
enthusiasm are at the highest pitch.
When my name was called, I rose, and President Eliot, in beautiful and
strong English, conferred upon me the degree of Master of Arts. After
these exercises were over, those who had received honorary degrees were
invited to lunch with the President. After the lunch we were formed in
line again, and were escorted by the Marshal of the day, who that year
happened to be Bishop William Lawrence, through the grounds, where, at
different points, those who had been honoured were called by name and
received the Harvard yell. This march ended at Memorial Hall, where the
alumni dinner was served. To see over a thousand strong men,
representing all that is best in State, Church, business, and
education, with the glow and enthusiasm of college loyalty and college
pride,—which has, I think, a peculiar Harvard flavour,—is a sight that
does not easily fade from memory.
Among the speakers after dinner were President Eliot, Governor Roger
Wolcott, General Miles, Dr. Minot J. Savage, the Hon. Henry Cabot
Lodge, and myself. When I was called upon, I said, among other things:—
It would in some measure relieve my embarrassment if I could, even in a
slight degree, feel myself worthy of the great honour which you do me
to-day. Why you have called me from the Black Belt of the South, from
among my humble people, to share in the honours of this occasion, is
not for me to explain; and yet it may not be inappropriate for me to
suggest that it seems to me that one of the most vital questions that
touch our American life is how to bring the strong, wealthy, and
learned into helpful touch with the poorest, most ignorant, and
humblest, and at the same time make one appreciate the vitalizing,
strengthening influence of the other. How shall we make the mansion on
yon Beacon Street feel and see the need of the spirits in the lowliest
cabin in Alabama cotton-fields or Louisiana sugar-bottoms? This problem
Harvard University is solving, not by bringing itself down, but by
bringing the masses up.
If my life in the past has meant anything in the lifting up of my
people and the bringing about of better relations between your race and
mine, I assure you from this day it will mean doubly more. In the
economy of God there is but one standard by which an individual can
succeed—there is but one for a race. This country demands that every
race shall measure itself by the American standard. By it a race must
rise or fall, succeed or fail, and in the last analysis mere sentiment
counts for little. During the next half-century and more, my race must
continue passing through the severe American crucible. We are to be
tested in our patience, our forbearance, our perseverance, our power to
endure wrong, to withstand temptations, to economize, to acquire and
use skill; in our ability to compete, to succeed in commerce, to
disregard the superficial for the real, the appearance for the
substance, to be great and yet small, learned and yet simple, high and
yet the servant of all.
As this was the first time that a New England university had conferred
an honorary degree upon a Negro, it was the occasion of much newspaper
comment throughout the country. A correspondent of a New York paper
said:—
When the name of Booker T. Washington was called, and he arose to
acknowledge and accept, there was such an outburst of applause as
greeted no other name except that of the popular soldier patriot,
General Miles. The applause was not studied and stiff, sympathetic and
condoling; it was enthusiasm and admiration. Every part of the audience
from pit to gallery joined in, and a glow covered the cheeks of those
around me, proving sincere appreciation of the rising struggle of an
ex-slave and the work he has accomplished for his race.
A Boston paper said, editorially:—
In conferring the honorary degree of Master of Arts upon the Principal
of Tuskegee Institute, Harvard University has honoured itself as well
as the object of this distinction. The work which Professor Booker T.
Washington has accomplished for the education, good citizenship, and
popular enlightenment in his chosen field of labour in the South
entitles him to rank with our national benefactors. The university
which can claim him on its list of sons, whether in regular course or
honoris causa, may be proud.
It has been mentioned that Mr. Washington is the first of his race to
receive an honorary degree from a New England university. This, in
itself, is a distinction. But the degree was not conferred because Mr.
Washington is a coloured man, or because he was born in slavery, but
because he has shown, by his work for the elevation of the people of
the Black Belt of the South, a genius and a broad humanity which count
for greatness in any man, whether his skin be white or black.
Another Boston paper said:—
It is Harvard which, first among New England colleges, confers an
honorary degree upon a black man. No one who has followed the history
of Tuskegee and its work can fail to admire the courage, persistence,
and splendid common sense of Booker T. Washington. Well may Harvard
honour the ex-slave, the value of whose services, alike to his race and
country, only the future can estimate.
The correspondent of the New York Times wrote:—
All the speeches were enthusiastically received, but the coloured man
carried off the oratorical honours, and the applause which broke out
when he had finished was vociferous and long-continued.
Soon after I began work at Tuskegee I formed a resolution, in the
secret of my heart, that I would try to build up a school that would be
of so much service to the country that the President of the United
States would one day come to see it. This was, I confess, rather a bold
resolution, and for a number of years I kept it hidden in my own
thoughts, not daring to share it with any one.
In November, 1897, I made the first move in this direction, and that
was in securing a visit from a member of President McKinley’s Cabinet,
the Hon. James Wilson, Secretary of Agriculture. He came to deliver an
address at the formal opening of the Slater-Armstrong Agricultural
Building, our first large building to be used for the purpose of giving
training to our students in agriculture and kindred branches.
In the fall of 1898 I heard that President McKinley was likely to visit
Atlanta, Georgia, for the purpose of taking part in the Peace Jubilee
exercises to be held there to commemorate the successful close of the
Spanish-American war. At this time I had been hard at work, together
with our teachers, for eighteen years, trying to build up a school that
we thought would be of service to the Nation, and I determined to make
a direct effort to secure a visit from the President and his Cabinet. I
went to Washington, and I was not long in the city before I found my
way to the White House. When I got there I found the waiting rooms full
of people, and my heart began to sink, for I feared there would not be
much chance of my seeing the President that day, if at all. But, at any
rate, I got an opportunity to see Mr. J. Addison Porter, the secretary
to the President, and explained to him my mission. Mr. Porter kindly
sent my card directly to the President, and in a few minutes word came
from Mr. McKinley that he would see me.
How any man can see so many people of all kinds, with all kinds of
errands, and do so much hard work, and still keep himself calm,
patient, and fresh for each visitor in the way that President McKinley
does, I cannot understand. When I saw the President he kindly thanked
me for the work which we were doing at Tuskegee for the interests of
the country. I then told him, briefly, the object of my visit. I
impressed upon him the fact that a visit from the Chief Executive of
the Nation would not only encourage our students and teachers, but
would help the entire race. He seemed interested, but did not make a
promise to go to Tuskegee, for the reason that his plans about going to
Atlanta were not then fully made; but he asked me to call the matter to
his attention a few weeks later.
By the middle of the following month the President had definitely
decided to attend the Peace Jubilee at Atlanta. I went to Washington
again and saw him, with a view of getting him to extend his trip to