Author: Andrew Carnegie
Translator: Sang-eun Park
Publisher: Book21
Hardcover / 528 pages
| Important! Please read before you order! |
| >>>This book is written in Korean only. |
About This Book
"Preface
AFTER retiring from active business my husband yielded to the earnest
solicitations of friends, both here and in Great Britain, and began to jot down
from time to time recollections of his early days. He soon found, however, that
instead of the leisure he expected, his life was more occupied with affairs than
ever before, and the writing of these memoirs was reserved for his play-time in
Scotland. For a few weeks each summer we retired to our little bungalow on the
moors at Aultnagar to enjoy the simple life, and it was there that Mr. Carnegie
did most of his writing. He delighted in going back to those early times, and as
he wrote he lived them all over again. He was thus engaged in July, 1914, when
the war clouds began to gather, and when the fateful news of the 4th of August
reached us, we immediately left our retreat in the hills and returned to Skibo
to be more in touch with the situation.
These memoirs ended at that time. Henceforth he was never able to interest
himself in private affairs. Many times he made the attempt to continue writing,
but found it useless. Until then he had lived the life of a man in middle life -
and a young one at that - golfing, 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 the failure of his hopes, the world disaster was too much. His heart was
broken. A severe attack of influenza followed by two serious attacks of
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 who were privileged to know it
intimately, was the way he bore his "burden of old age." Always patient,
considerate, cheerful, grateful for any little pleasure or service, never
thinking of himself, but always of the dawning of a better day, his spirit ever
shone brighter and brighter until "he was not, for God took him."
Written with his own hand on the fly-leaf of his manuscript are these words: "It
is probable that material for a small volume might be collected from these
memoirs which the public would care to read, and that a private and larger
volume might please my relatives and friends. Much I have written from time to
time may, I think, wisely be omitted. Whoever arranges these notes should be
careful not to burden the public with too much. A man with a heart as well as a
head should be chosen."
Who, then, could so well fill this description as our friend Professor John C.
Van Dyke? When the manuscript was shown to him, he remarked, without having read
Mr. Carnegie's notation, "It would be a labor of love to prepare this for
publication." Here, then, the choice was mutual, and the manner in which he has
performed this "labor" proves the wisdom of the choice - a choice made and
carried out in the name of a rare and beautiful friendship.
LOUISE WHITFIELD CARNEGIE.
New York
April 16, 1920"
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