It was the following letter, which came to me one Sunday
morning when I was sitting on the veranda of my home at Tuskegee,
surrounded by my wife and three children: --
Harvard University, Cambridge, May 28, 1896.
President Booker T. Washington,
My Dear Sir: Harvard University desired to confer on you at
the 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.
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