Any fool can try to defend his or her mistakes—and most foolsdo—but it raises one above the herd and gives one a feeling ofnobility and exultation to admit one’s mistakes. For example， oneof the most beautiful things that history records about Robert E.
Lee is the way he blamed himself and only himself for the failureof Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg.
Pickett’s charge was undoubtedly the most brilliant andpicturesque attack that ever occurred in the Western world.
General George E. Pickett himself was picturesque. He wore hishair so long that his auburn locks almost touched his shoulders；and， like Napoleon in his Italian campaigns， he wrote ardent lovelettersalmost daily while on the battlefield. His devoted troopscheered him that tragic July afternoon as he rode off jauntilytoward the Union lines， his cap set at a rakish angle over his rightear. They cheered and they followed him， man touching man，rank pressing rank， with banners flying and bayonets gleaming inthe sun. It was a gallant sight. Daring. Magnificent. A murmur ofadmiration ran through the Union lines as they beheld it.
Pickett’s troops swept forward at any easy trot. All the time，the enemy’s cannon was tearing ghastly holes in their ranks，Suddenly the Union infantry rose from behind the stone wall onCemetery Ridge where they had been hiding and fired volley aftervolley into Pickett’s onrushing troops. The crest of the hill wasa sheet of flame， a slaughterhouse， a blazing volcano. In a few96 ·
minutes， all of Pickett’s brigade commanders except one weredown， and four-fifths of his five thousand men had fallen.
General Lewis A. Armistead， leading the troops in the finalplunge， ran forward， vaulted over the stone wall， and， waving hiscap on the top of his sword， shouted： “Give ’em the steel， boys！”
They did. They leaped over the wall， bayoneted their enemies，smashed skulls with clubbed muskets， and planted the battleflagsof the South on Cemetery Ridge. The banners waved there onlyfor a moment. But that moment， brief as it was， recorded thehigh-water mark of the Confederacy.
Pickett’s charge—brilliant， heroic—was nevertheless thebeginning of the end. Lee had failed. He could not penetrate theNorth. And he knew it. The South was doomed.
Lee was so saddened， so shocked， that he sent in hisresignation and asked Jefferson Davis， the president of theConfederacy， to appoint “a younger and abler man.” If Lee hadwanted to blame the disastrous failure of Pickett’s charge onsomeone else， he could have found a score of alibis. Some of hisdivision commanders had failed him. The cavalry hadn’t arrivedin time to support the infantry attack. This had gone wrong andthat had gone awry.
But Lee was far too noble to blame others. As Pickett’s beatenand bloody troops struggled back to the Confederate lines， RobertE. Lee rode out to meet them all alone and greeted them with aself-condemnation that was little short of sublime. “All this hasbeen my fault，” he confessed. “I and I alone have lost this battle.”
Few generals in all history have had the courage and characterto admit that. When we are right， let’s try to win people gentlyand tactfully to our way of thinking， and when we are wrong—andthat will be surprisingly often， if we are honest with ourselves—let’s admit our mistakes quickly and with enthusiasm. Not only97 ·
will that technique produce astonishing results； but， believe it ornot， it is a lot more fun， under the circumstances， than trying todefend oneself.
Remember the old proverb： “By fighting you never get enough，but by yielding you get more than you expected.”
