I also had it understood that I was
not to speak in the capacity of a professional lecturer, or for
mere commercial gain.
In my efforts on the public platform I never have been able to
understand why people come to hear me speak. This question I
never can rid myself of. Time and time again, as I have stood in
the street in front of a building and have seen men and women
passing in large numbers into the audience room where I was to
speak, I have felt ashamed that I should be the cause of
people--as it seemed to me--wasting a valuable hour of their
time. Some years ago I was to deliver an address before a
literary society in Madison, Wis. An hour before the time set for
me to speak, a fierce snow-storm began, and continued for several
hours. I made up my mind that there would be no audience, and
that I should not have to speak, but, as a matter of duty, I went
to the church, and found it packed with people. The surprise gave
me a shock that I did not recover from during the whole evening.
People often ask me if I feel nervous before speaking, or else
they suggest that, since I speak often, they suppose that I get
used to it. In answer to this question I have to say that I
always suffer intensely from nervousness before speaking. More
than once, just before I was to make an important address, this
nervous strain has been so great that I have resolved never again
to speak in public.
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