Autobiography of Andrew Carnegie | Page 7

developed into a violent young
Republican whose motto was "death to privilege." At that time I did not
know what privilege meant, but my father did.
One of my Uncle Lauder's best stories was about this same J.B. Smith,
the friend of John Bright, who was standing for Parliament in
Dunfermline. Uncle was a member of his Committee and all went well
until it was proclaimed that Smith was a "Unitawrian." The district was
placarded with the enquiry: Would you vote for a "Unitawrian"? It was

serious. The Chairman of Smith's Committee in the village of Cairney
Hill, a blacksmith, was reported as having declared he never would.
Uncle drove over to remonstrate with him. They met in the village
tavern over a gill:
"Man, I canna vote for a Unitawrian," said the Chairman.
"But," said my uncle, "Maitland [the opposing candidate] is a
Trinitawrian."
"Damn; that's waur," was the response.
And the blacksmith voted right. Smith won by a small majority.
The change from hand-loom to steam-loom weaving was disastrous to
our family. My father did not recognize the impending revolution, and
was struggling under the old system. His looms sank greatly in value,
and it became necessary for that power which never failed in any
emergency--my mother--to step forward and endeavor to repair the
family fortune. She opened a small shop in Moodie Street and
contributed to the revenues which, though slender, nevertheless at that
time sufficed to keep us in comfort and "respectable."
I remember that shortly after this I began to learn what poverty meant.
Dreadful days came when my father took the last of his webs to the
great manufacturer, and I saw my mother anxiously awaiting his return
to know whether a new web was to be obtained or that a period of
idleness was upon us. It was burnt into my heart then that my father,
though neither "abject, mean, nor vile," as Burns has it, had
nevertheless to
"Beg a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil."
And then and there came the resolve that I would cure that when I got
to be a man. We were not, however, reduced to anything like poverty
compared with many of our neighbors. I do not know to what lengths
of privation my mother would not have gone that she might see her two
boys wearing large white collars, and trimly dressed.

In an incautious moment my parents had promised that I should never
be sent to school until I asked leave to go. This promise I afterward
learned began to give them considerable uneasiness because as I grew
up I showed no disposition to ask. The schoolmaster, Mr. Robert
Martin, was applied to and induced to take some notice of me. He took
me upon an excursion one day with some of my companions who
attended school, and great relief was experienced by my parents when
one day soon afterward I came and asked for permission to go to Mr.
Martin's school.[8] I need not say the permission was duly granted. I
had then entered upon my eighth year, which subsequent experience
leads me to say is quite early enough for any child to begin attending
school.
[Footnote 8: It was known as Rolland School.]
The school was a perfect delight to me, and if anything occurred which
prevented my attendance I was unhappy. This happened every now and
then because my morning duty was to bring water from the well at the
head of Moodie Street. The supply was scanty and irregular.
Sometimes it was not allowed to run until late in the morning and a
score of old wives were sitting around, the turn of each having been
previously secured through the night by placing a worthless can in the
line. This, as might be expected, led to numerous contentions in which
I would not be put down even by these venerable old dames. I earned
the reputation of being "an awfu' laddie." In this way I probably
developed the strain of argumentativeness, or perhaps combativeness,
which has always remained with me.
In the performance of these duties I was often late for school, but the
master, knowing the cause, forgave the lapses. In the same connection I
may mention that I had often the shop errands to run after school, so
that in looking back upon my life I have the satisfaction of feeling that I
became useful to my parents even at the early age of ten. Soon after
that the accounts of the various people who dealt with the shop were
entrusted to my keeping so that I became acquainted, in a small way,
with business affairs even in childhood.
One cause of misery there was, however, in my school experience. The

boys nicknamed me "Martin's pet," and