would be "Livy" and "Harmony," and in a few years "Uncle Joe" and "Uncle
Mark," "Aunt Livy" and "Aunt Harmony," and so would remain until the
end.
LXIX. A LECTURE TOUR
James Redpath, proprietor of the Boston Lyceum Bureau, was the leading
lecture agent of those days, and controlled all, or nearly all, of the
platform celebrities. Mark Twain's success at the Cooper Union the
year before had interested Redpath. He had offered engagements then and
later, but Clemens had not been free for the regular circuit. Now there
was no longer a reason for postponement of a contract. Redpath was eager
for the new celebrity, and Clemens closed with him for the season of
1868-9. With his new lecture, "The Vandal Abroad," he was presently
earning a hundred dollars and more a night, and making most of the
nights count.
This was affluence indeed. He had become suddenly a person of
substance-an associate of men of consequence, with a commensurate
income. He could help his mother lavishly now, and he did.
His new lecture was immensely popular. It was a resume of the 'Quaker
City' letters--a foretaste of the book which would presently follow.
Wherever he went, he was hailed with eager greetings. He caught such
drifting exclamations as, "There he is! There goes Mark Twain!" People
came out on the street to see him pass. That marvelous miracle which we
variously call "notoriety," "popularity," "fame," had come to him. In
his notebook he wrote, "Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident; the
only, earthly certainty oblivion."
The newspapers were filled with enthusiasm both as to his matter and
method. His delivery was described as a "long, monotonous drawl, with
the fun invariably coming in at the end of a sentence--after a pause."
His appearance at this time is thus set down:
Mark Twain is a man of medium height, about five feet ten, sparsely
built, with dark reddish-brown hair and mustache. His features are
fair, his eyes keen and twinkling. He dresses in scrupulous evening
attire. In lecturing he hangs about the desk, leaning on it or
flirting around the corners of it, then marching and countermarching
in the rear of it. He seldom casts a glance at his manuscript.
No doubt this fairly presents Mark Twain, the lecturer of that day. It
was a new figure on the platform, a man with a new method. As to his
manuscript, the item might have said that he never consulted it at
all. He learned his lecture; what
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