Carnegie - Autobiography of Andrew Carnegie

After retiring from active business my husband yielded to the earnestsolicitations of friends, both here and in Great Britain, and began tojot down from time to time recollections of his early days. He soonfound, however, that instead of the leisure he expected, his life wasmore occupied with affairs than ever before, and the writing of thesememoirs was reserved for his play-time in Scotland. For a few weekseach summer we retired to our little bungalow on the moors atAultnagar to enjoy the simple life, and it was there that Mr. Carnegiedid most of his writing. He delighted in going back to those earlytimes, and as he wrote he lived them all over again. He was thusengaged in July, 1914, when the war clouds began to gather, and whenthe fateful news of the 4th of August reached us, we immediately leftour retreat in the hills and returned to Skibo to be more in touchwith the situation.

These memoirs ended at that time. Henceforth he was never able tointerest himself in private affairs. Many times he made the attempt tocontinue writing, but found it useless. Until then he had lived thelife of a man in middle lifeand a young one at thatgolfing,fishing, swimming each day, sometimes doing all three in one day.Optimist as he always was and tried to be, even in the face of thefailure of his hopes, the world disaster was too much. His heart wasbroken. A severe attack of influenza followed by two serious attacksof pneumonia precipitated old age upon him.

It was said of a contemporary who passed away a few months before Mr.Carnegie that "he never could have borne the burden of old age."Perhaps the most inspiring part of Mr. Carnegie's life, to those whowere privileged to know it intimately, was the way he bore his "burdenof old age." Always patient, considerate, cheerful, grateful for anylittle pleasure or service, never thinking of himself, but always ofthe dawning of the better day, his spirit ever shone brighter andbrighter until "he was not, for God took him."

Written with his own hand on the fly-leaf of his manuscript are thesewords: "It is probable that material for a small volume might becollected from these memoirs which the public would care to read, andthat a private and larger volume might please my relatives andfriends. Much I have written from time to time may, I think, wisely beomitted. Whoever arranges these notes should be careful not to burdenthe public with too much. A man with a heart as well as a head shouldbe chosen."

Who, then, could so well fill this description as our friend ProfessorJohn C. Van Dyke? When the manuscript was shown to him, he remarked,without having read Mr. Carnegie's notation, "It would be a labor oflove to prepare this for publication." Here, then, the choice wasmutual, and the manner in which he has performed this "labor" provesthe wisdom of the choicea choice made and carried out in the name ofa rare and beautiful friendship.

LOUISE WHITFIELD CARNEGIE

New York
April 16, 1920

The story of a man's life, especially when it is told by the manhimself, should not be interrupted by the hecklings of an editor. Heshould be allowed to tell the tale in his own way, and enthusiasm,even extravagance in recitation should be received as a part of thestory. The quality of the man may underlie exuberance of spirit, astruth may be found in apparent exaggeration. Therefore, in preparingthese chapters for publication the editor has done little more thanarrange the material chronologically and sequentially so that thenarrative might run on unbrokenly to the end. Some footnotes by way ofexplanation have been added; but the narrative is the thing.

This is neither the time nor the place to characterize or eulogize themaker of "this strange eventful history," but perhaps it is worthwhile to recognize that the history really was eventful. And strange.Nothing stranger ever came out of the Arabian Nights than the storyof this poor Scotch boy who came to America and step by step, throughmany trials and triumphs, became the great steel master, built up acolossal industry, amassed an enormous fortune, and then deliberatelyand systematically gave away the whole of it for the enlightenment andbetterment of mankind. Not only that. He established a gospel ofwealth that can be neither ignored nor forgotten, and set a pace indistribution that succeeding millionaires have followed as aprecedent. In the course of his career he became a nation-builder, aleader in thought, a writer, a speaker, the friend of workmen,schoolmen, and statesmen, the associate of both the lowly and thelofty. But these were merely interesting happenings in his life ascompared with his great inspirationshis distribution of wealth, hispassion for world peace, and his love for mankind.

Perhaps we are too near this history to see it in proper proportions,but in the time to come it should gain in perspective and in interest.The generations hereafter may realize the wonder of it more fully thanwe of to-day. Happily it is preserved to us, and that, too, in Mr.Carnegie's own words and in his own buoyant style. It is a verymemorable recorda record perhaps the like of which we shall not lookupon again.

JOHN C. VAN DYKE

New York
August, 1920

If the story of any man's life, truly told, must be interesting, assome sage avers, those of my relatives and immediate friends who haveinsisted upon having an account of mine may not be unduly disappointedwith this result. I may console myself with the assurance that such astory must interest at least a certain number of people who have knownme, and that knowledge will encourage me to proceed.

A book of this kind, written years ago by my friend, Judge Mellon, ofPittsburgh, gave me so much pleasure that I am inclined to agree withthe wise one whose opinion I have given above; for, certainly, thestory which the Judge told has proved a source of infinitesatisfaction to his friends, and must continue to influence succeedinggenerations of his family to live life well. And not only this; tosome beyond his immediate circle it holds rank with their favoriteauthors. The book contains one essential feature of valueit revealsthe man. It was written without any intention of attracting publicnotice, being designed only for his family. In like manner I intend totell my story, not as one posturing before the public, but as in themidst of my own people and friends, tried and true, to whom I canspeak with the utmost freedom, feeling that even trifling incidentsmay not be wholly destitute of interest for them.

To begin, then, I was born in Dunfermline, in the attic of the smallone-story house, corner of Moodie Street and Priory Lane, on the 25thof November, 1835, and, as the saying is, "of poor but honest parents,of good kith and kin." Dunfermline had long been noted as the centerof the damask trade in Scotland. My father, William Carnegie, was adamask weaver, the son of Andrew Carnegie after whom I was named.