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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