An event occurred in 1929 that created a national sensation ineducational circles. Learned men from all over America rushedto Chicago to witness the affair. A few years earlier， a young manby the name of Robert Hutchins had worked his way throughYale， acting as a waiter， a lumberjack， a tutor， and a clothes-linesalesman. Now， only eight years later， he was being inauguratedas president of the fourth richest university in America， theUniversity of Chicago. His age？ Thirty. Incredible！ The oldereducators shook their heads. Criticism came roaring down uponthe “boy wonder” like a rockslide. He was this and he was that—too young， inexperienced—his educational ideas were cockeyed.
Even the newspapers joined in the attack.
The day he was inaugurated， a friend said to the father ofRobert Maynard Hutchins： “I was shocked this morning to readthat newspaper editorial denouncing your son.”
“Yes，” the elder Hutchins replied， “it was severe， but rememberthat no one ever kicks a dead dog.”
Yes， and the more important a dog is， the more satisfactionpeople get in kicking him. The Prince of Wales who later becameEdward VIII （now Duke of Windsor） had that forcibly broughthome to him. He was attending Dartmouth College in Devonshireat the time—a college that corresponds to the Naval Academy atAnnapolis. The Prince was about fourteen. One day one of thenaval officers found him crying， and asked him what was wrong.
He refused to tell at first， but finally admitted the truth： he was being kicked by the naval cadets. The commodore of the collegesummoned the boys and explained to them that the Prince hadnot complained， but he wanted to find out why the Prince hadbeen singled out for this rough treatment.
After much hemming and hawing and toe scraping， the cadetsfinally confessed that when they themselves became commandersand captains in the King’s Navy， they wanted to be able to saythat they had kicked the King！
So when you are kicked and criticised， remember that it isoften done because it gives the kicker a feeling of importance.
It often means that you are accomplishing something andare worthy of attention. Many people get a sense of savagesatisfaction out of denouncing those who are better educated thanthey are or more successful. For example， while I was writing thischapter， I received a letter from a woman denouncing GeneralWilliam Booth， founder of the Salvation Army. I had given alaudatory broadcast about General Booth； so this woman wroteme， saying that General Booth had stolen eight million dollarsof the money he had collected to help poor people. The charge，of course， was absurd. But this woman wasn’t looking for truth.
She was seeking the mean-spirited gratification that she got fromtearing down someone far above her. I threw her bitter letter intothe wastebasket， and thanked Almighty God that I wasn’t marriedto her. Her letter didn’t tell me anything at all about GeneralBooth， but it did tell me a lot about her.
Schopenhauer had said it years ago： “Vulgar people take hugedelight in the faults and follies of great men.”
One hardly thinks of the president of Yale as a vulgar man； yeta former president of Yale， Timothy Dwight， apparently took hugedelight in denouncing a man who was running for President ofthe United States. The president of Yale warned that if this man were elected President， “we may see our wives and daughtersthe victims of legal prostitution， soberly dishonoured， speciouslypolluted； the outcasts of delicacy and virtue， the loathing of Godand man.”
What American do you suppose was denounced as a“hypocrite”， “an impostor”， and as “little better than a murderer”？
A newspaper cartoon depicted him on a guillotine， the big kniferead to cut off his head. Crowds jeered at him and hissed him ashe rode through the street. Who was he？ George Washington.
But that occurred a long time ago. Maybe human nature hasimproved since then. Let’s see. Let’s take the case of AdmiralPeary—the explorer who startled and thrilled the world byreaching the North Pole with dog sleds on April 6， 1909—a goalthat brave men for centuries had suffered and died to attain.
Peary himself almost died from cold and starvation； and eightof his toes were frozen so hard they had to be cut off. He was sooverwhelmed with disasters that he feared he would go insane.
His superior naval officers in Washington were burned upbecause Peary was getting so much publicity and acclaim. So theyaccused him of collecting money for scientific expeditions andthen “lying around and loafing in the Arctic.” And they probablybelieved it， because it is almost impossible not to believe whatyou want to believe. Their determination to humiliate and blockPeary was so violent that only a direct order from PresidentMcKinley enabled Peary to continued his career in the Arctic.
Would Peary have been denounced if he had had a desk job inthe Navy Department in Washington. No. He wouldn’t have beenimportant enough then to have aroused jealousy.
General Grant had an even worse experience than AdmiralPeary. In 1862， General Grant won the first great decisive victorythat the North had enjoyed-a victory that was achieved in one afternoon， a victory that made Grant a national idol overnight-avictory that had tremendous repercussions even in far-offEurope—a victory that set church bells ringing and bonfiresblazing from Maine to the banks of the Mississippi. Yet withinsix weeks after achieving that great victory， Grant—hero of theNorth—was arrested and his army was taken from him. He weptwith humiliation and despair.
Why was General U.S. Grant arrested at the flood tide of hisvictory？ Largely because he had aroused the jealousy and envyof his arrogant superiors. If we are tempted to be worried aboutunjust criticism here is Rule 1：
Remember that unjust criticism is often a disguised compliment.
Remember that no one ever kicks a dead dog.