XXXII

In spite of her retiring nature and shrinking from publicity, Clara Barton remained probably the best known woman in America, surely one of the best-beloved.

New Orleans (La.)Item.

Miss Barton took the lecture platform, under an agreement to lecture 300 nights at $100 a night.

Louisville (Ky.)Courier-Journal.

Fear is the mother of foresight.Henry Taylor.

Fear is the mother of safety.Edmund Burke.

Fear makes us feel for humanity.Earl of Beaconsfield.

In the earlier years of my life, I remember nothing but fear.

Clara Barton.

It was high counsel that I once heard given to a young person: “Always do what you are afraid to do.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Timid as a sheep.Ouida.

Timid as a doe.Robert Noel.

Timid as a fawn.Thackeray.

I am the most timid person on earth.Clara Barton.

Some critic has said that I was visibly agitated when I arose to address my audience;—the critic was right, and why should I not be?Clara Barton.

All speech-making terrifies me. First I have no taste for it, and lastly I hate it.Clara Barton.

Nothing could gratify me more than to know that I had been one of these self-reliant American girls like our sweet poetess Lucy Larcrom.Clara Barton.

If I could have gotten over my timid sensitiveness it would have given far less annoyance to my friends, and trouble to myself, all through life.Clara Barton.

Fear is relative. The fear of death by flames is greater than by water. The fear not to do is ofttimes greater than the fear to do. The fear of failure is supplanted by courage. To the sensitive nature the fear that others may suffer impels to the greatest courage. Despite innate fear, courage is uppermost in the minds of those who would achieve results. The most renowned in the fine arts, in oratory, in patriotism, in the humanities, are those by nature timid.

John B. Gough and Clara Barton at one time lived in the same town; were personal friends; in the lecture season, successively talked from the same platform. These two Americans were each as timid, probably, as ever appeared before a public audience. But each achieved an enviable reputation as a platform lecturer.

The morning following one of his inimitable temperance lectures, I remarked: “Mr. Gough, I wish I had your assurance before an audience.” “Young man,” he replied, “you don’t know me. I have given thousands of lectures, but I never rise to address an audience that my knees don’t knock together, from stage fright. Last night, as I arose to address that splendid body of college boys, I was scared stiff; for some moments I was so frightened I couldn’t utter a word.”

In his autobiography he wrote: “For thirty-seven years I have been a public speaker, but have never known the time when I did not dread an audience. Often that fear amounts to positive suffering. In my suffering, trembling seizes every nerve.”

Clara Barton was a timid child; so much so as to annoy her parents, and other friends. When about eight years of age she was sent away to school in the hope that, among strangers, she would become at ease in the presence of others. At school she grew tired; became thin and pale; said she was hungry, but refused to eat. It was suspected that it was all on account of her timidity, and that she might die of starvation. Because she dared not eat, the teacher returned her to her home. In referring to this experience, and her later experiences in the presence of strangers, a few years before she died, she said: “To this day I would rather stand behind the lines of artillery at Antietam, or cross the pontoon bridge under fire at Fredericksburg, than to preside at a public meeting.”

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