I have heard, in such a way as to believe it, of your recently saying that both the army and the government needed a dictator.  Of course, it was not for this, but in spite of it, that I have given you the command.  Only those generals who gain successes can set up dictators.  What I now ask of you is military success, and I will risk the dictatorship.  The government will support you to the utmost of its ability, which is neither more nor less than it has done and will do for all commanders.  I much fear that the spirit you have aided to infuse into the army, of criticising their commander and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you.  I shall assist you as far as I can to put it down.  Neither you nor Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army while such a spirit prevails in it.  And now beware of rashness, but with sleepless vigilance go forward and give us victories.

Yours very truly, A. Lincoln.

One point in this letter is especially worth our consideration, for it suggests a condition that springs up like deadly nightshade from a poisonous soil.  I refer to the habit of carping, sneering, grumbling and criticising those who are above us.  The man who is anybody and who does anything is certainly going to be criticised, vilified and misunderstood.  This is a part of the penalty for greatness, and every great man understands it; and understands, too, that it is no proof of greatness.  The final proof of greatness lies in being able to endure contumely without resentment.  Lincoln did not resent criticism; he knew that every life was its own excuse for being, but look how he calls Hooker’s attention to the fact that the dissension Hooker has sown is going to return and plague him!  “Neither you, nor Napoleon, if he were alive, could get any good out of an army while such a spirit prevails in it.”  Hooker’s fault falls on Hooker—­others suffer, but Hooker suffers most of all.

Not long ago I met a Yale student home on a vacation.  I am sure he did not represent the true Yale spirit, for he was full of criticism and bitterness toward the institution.  President Hadley came in for his share, and I was given items, facts, data, with times and places, for a “peach of a roast.”

Very soon I saw the trouble was not with Yale, the trouble was with the young man.  He had mentally dwelt on some trivial slights until he had gotten so out of harmony with the place that he had lost the power to derive any benefit from it.  Yale college is not a perfect institution—­a fact, I suppose, that President Hadley and most Yale men are quite willing to admit; but Yale does supply young men certain advantages, and it depends upon the students whether they will avail themselves of these advantages or not.  If you are a student in college, seize upon the good that is there.  You receive good by giving it.  You gain by giving—­so give sympathy and cheerful loyalty to the institution.  Be proud of it.  Stand by your teachers—­they are doing the best they can.  If the place is faulty, make it a better place by an example of cheerfully doing your work every day the best you can.  Mind your own business.