By Dale Carnegie

　　Fundamental Techniques in Handling People

　　Chapter 1: ‘If you want to gather honey, don't kick over the beehive.'

　　...

　　On Saturday morning, April 15,1865, Abraham Lincoln lay dying in a hall bedroom of a cheap lodging house directly across the street from Ford's Theater, where Booth had shot him. Lincoln's long body lay stretched diagonally across a sagging bed that was too short for him. A cheap reproduction of Rosa Bonheur's famous painting, 'The House Fair', hung above the bed, and a dismal gas jet flickered yellow light.

　　As Lincoln lay dying, Secretary of War Stanton said, 'There lies the most perfect ruler of men that the world has ever seen.'What was the secret of Lincoln's success in dealing with men? I studied the life of Abraham Lincoln for ten years, and devoted all of three years to writing and rewriting a book entitled Lincoln the Unknown. I believe I have made as detailed and exhaustive a study of Lincoln's personality and home life as it is possible for any human being to make. I made a special study of Lincoln's method of dealing with men. Did he indulge in criticism? Oh, yes. As a young man in the Pigeon Creek Valley of Indiana, he not only criticized but he wrote letters and poems ridiculing people and dropped these letters on the country roads where they were sure to be found. One of these letters aroused resentments that burned for a lifetime.

　　Even after Lincoln had become a practicing lawyer in Springfield, Illinois, he attacked his opponents openly in letters published in the newspapers. But he did this just once too often.

　　In the autumn of 1842, he ridiculed a vain, pugnacious Irish politician by the name of James Shields. Lincoln lampooned him through an anonymous letter published in the Springfield journal. The town roared with laughter. Shields, sensitive and proud, boiled with indignation. He found out who wrote the letter, leaped on his horse, started after Lincoln, and challenged him to fight a duel. Lincoln didn't want to fight. He was opposed to dueling; but he couldn't get out of it and save his honor. He was given the choice of weapons. Since he had very long arms, he chose cavalry broad swords, took lessons in sword fighting from a West Point graduate; and on the appointed day, he and Shields met on a sand bar in the Mississippi River, prepared to fight to the death; but at the last minute, their seconds interrupted and stopped the duel.

　　That was the most lurid personal incident in Lincoln's life. It taught him an invaluable lesson in the art of dealing with people. Never again did he write an insulting letter. Never again did he ridicule anyone. And from that time on, he almost never criticized anybody for anything.

　　Time after time, during the Civil War, Lincoln put a new general at the head of the Army of the Potomac, and each on in turn—McClellan, Pope, Burnside, Hooker, Meade—blundered tragically, and drove Lincoln to pacing the floor in despair. Half the nation savagely condemned these incompetent generals, but Lincoln, 'with malice towards none, with charity for all', held his peace. One of his favorite quotations was‘judge not, that you be not judged.'

　　And when Mrs. Lincoln and others spoke harshly of the Southern people, Lincoln replied: 'Don't criticize them; they are just what we would be under similar circumstances.'

　　When dealing with people, let us remember that we are not dealing with creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, creatures bristling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity.

　　And criticism is a dangerous spark—a spark that is liable to cause an explosion in the powder magazine of pride—an explosion that sometimes hastens death. For example, General Leonard Wood was criticized and not allowed to go with the army to France. That blow to his pride probably shortened his life. Bitter criticism caused the sensitive Thomas Hardy, one of the finest novelists that ever enriched English literature, to give up the writing of fiction forever. Criticism drove Thomas Chatterton, the English poet, to suicide.

　　Benjamin Franklin, tactless in his youth, became so diplomatic, so adroit at handling people that he was made American Ambassador to France. The secret of his success? 'I will speak ill of no man,' he said, '... and speak all the good I know of everybody.'

　　Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain—and most fools do. But it takes character and self-control to be understanding and forgiving. 'A great man shows his greatness,' said Carlyle, 'by the way he treats little man.'

　　Instead of condemning people, let's try to understand them.

　　Let's try to figure out why they do what they do. That's a lot more profitable and intriguing than criticism; and it breeds sympathy, tolerance, and kindness. 'To know all is to forgive all.'

　　As Dr. Johnson said: 'God himself, sir, does not propose to judge man until the end of his day.' Why should you and I?