“It would increase his popularity immensely,” I sotto voce’ed back.
Lenbach returned—with a camera, and as Mark looked puzzled, Lenbach explained: “I always get every possible angle I can of the persons I want to paint. Now, if you will just stand still, Mr. Clemens, for a little while, I will be ever so much obliged.”
And Lenbach made the rounds of Clemens, who had taken off his overcoat, more than once, photographing every important bit of anatomy, back, sides, front, arms, legs, ear, full face, back of head, cheeks, hands, eyes, etc.
“They told me in Vienna that Lenbach was an artist,” commented Mark when we gained the sidewalk. “As you saw, he is merely a photographer. Glad I never went to pieces over his art with a capital A.”
Whether the painting was ever undertaken by Lenbach I don’t know, but it would be immensely interesting to get those plates from the “photographer’s” studio.
MARK INTERVIEWED THE BARBER ABOUT HARRY THAW
During his last visit to London, Mark called me up one morning and said: “My arm aches and I can’t do it myself, so for God’s sake, take me to a barber who can scrape one’s face without taking half the hide off. I am getting mighty tired of being flayed alive in this here burg.”
Accordingly we drove down to the Cecil in the Strand.
“I understand you are the man who treats a delicate skin like an American beauty rose,” said Mark to the barber.
“I will treat yours, Mr. Clemens, as if it were a butterfly. For I have read what you have said about Italian barbers,” was answered. And the things that happened to Mark’s face, head, hands and feet while in the chair would fill a column of “The Times” to enumerate. He remained two hours in the chair, and was not allowed to pay a red penny for the accommodation.