1905 The Art of Absinthe

Everybody knew that Peregrine couldn't make a living from his art. It didn't matter anyway, he always said that he didn't want to. That would be vulgar. Art was pure. Art existed on a higher plane. Having said that, he had submitted works for the Royal Academy of Art's Summer Exhibition for the last ten years. Not one had been accepted.

That's why he had left London. Well in part anyway.

The cottage was large. Larger than any farm labourer could have dreamed of. It had been four cottages but Peregrine had had it turned into one. Now equipped with every modern convenience that the new century could provide.

She, Hetty, had first approached him at his Mayfair studio hoping for some opinion on her paintings. He hadn't even looked at them.

She had become his model, his muse, his lover, and then his wife. This was somewhat bizarre as he claimed to be a Bohemian, shunning the whole concept of marriage. Hetty had refused to relocate with him to rural Dorset without the, what he considered to be unnecessary, wedding ring. She had never fully committed to his radical beliefs.

Despite his principles, Peregrine pointed out her aristocratic connections when informing his family that he had married the Honourable Henrietta Milford Strong. Hetty merely told her parents that she had been wed to an artist.

Every morning, a local woman, Mrs Tidy and her daughter, Flora, came to the cottage to clean, cook, and take away the laundry. This left Peregrine and Hetty the rest of the day to paint. The conundrum was that Peregrine liked to paint Hetty and Hetty liked to paint portraits. A compromise was reached. Hetty took her clothes off on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Peregrine worked without his muse on Tuesday and Thursday. This left the muse to paint on those days. She knew that he had little regard for her talent. Weekends were, in theory, paint free.

Portraits of handsome young people held scant magnetism for Henrietta Laycock. She liked to portray characters. In London there was no shortage of such faces but in the country they were there but they weren't on every street corner. Hetty wasn't entirely sure why Peregrine had such a strong desire to move to Dorset if he only wanted to paint her. There was nothing in Dorset that he couldn't have painted in Mayfair. She felt that he may have more success with landscapes than with nudes.

Peregrine Laycock was a socialist. He could afford to be, his father was a Marquess. Peregrine's father had also been a socialist; right up to the day he inherited the title and the estates as well as the coal mines and the steel mills in addition to several Scottish islands and most of an Irish county.

The Bohemian Circle had developed at Cambridge and because of this most of the members were now in a similar age group of about thirty. To be candid, it was made up from the second or third tier of the intellectual elite. Painters, Writers, Philosophers etc. Certainly nobody of whom you would have heard. The common thread that bound them together was the rejection of conventional morality. In particular sexual morality. To them marriage was an outdated anathema.

After Cambridge they had met on an irregular and informal basis at various London addresses. The group had gained some additional members but had also lost some members (sorry to say, mostly to marriage). Of the remaining eight, only two were married men. As well as Peregrine Laycock, the failed painter turned Art Critic Justinian Wayfare had a wife. In her mid fifties, Adele Wayfare was no more committed to the ethos of the Bohemian Circle than was Hetty Laycock.

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Hetty was about to enter the kitchen when she overheard the end of a conversation between Mrs Tidy and Flora. "...........but it's not just you. He says ridiculous things to every other woman in the village. I put it down to him fighting in the African Wars," said Flora.

"Of whom are you speaking?" asked Hetty, intrigued.

"Oh, sorry Madam. We are still working," answered Mrs Tidy.

Hetty said, "Forgive me, I didn't mean to imply that you were doing anything wrong. It is just that the man sounds like a character."

"Oh, he is that," said Flora.

Mrs Tidy stepped in quickly before Flora could say anything else, "Now, don't be unkind my dear."

"Is he an old man?" asked Hetty, "Could he be a suitable sitter for one of my portraits?"

"Martin Venn is only twenty-four but he has the cheek of a dirty old man. Any woman would be well advised not to be in the same room with him. Particularly not a refined lady like yourself," warned Mrs Tidy.

Hetty smiled to herself. The conversations between mother and daughter could be quite refreshing sometimes. She had once overheard Flora expressing the opinion that Peregrine paid them three times what the local gentry would pay. She thought that he was a very generous man. Flora was sixteen and engaged to a local man called Jarvis. She hadn't yet developed her mother's cynicism. Mrs Tidy was of the opinion that Peregrine was a bloody nincompoop to pay too much.

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Unfortunately, Hetty rarely took good advice so when she saw a young man and a mature woman in conversation in the village she waited until the lady went bright red and hurried away.

"Mr Venn?" Hetty enquired of the man, feeling sure that it was him.

Within that moment, with an artist's eye, she took in his whole face. Not old but a face that had lived a dozen lifetimes.

"Just Venn will do," he replied.

"As you wish, Venn. I would like to paint you," she said.

He laughed and teased her, "Without seeing the best bits of me, you want to change my hue?"

"No, you purposely misunderstand me, I wish to paint your portrait. Have you had your likeness done before?"

"I once was photographed. But with me standing in the fifth row of a regiment, you would hardly be able to pick me out."

"Yes, I had heard that you have been a military man," said Hetty.

"Oh and what else have you heard about me?" Venn said.

"I have been informed that you are a character."

Venn simply laughed out loud.

Slightly irritated, she said, "Can I paint your portrait or not?"

"Not!" said Venn.

"Why ever not?"

"Because I won't be here."

"Where shall you be?" asked the artist.

"Twelve miles off, over Linden way. I have bought a small holding with my Army savings and I am moving up there the week after next."

"Oh," said Hetty, thinking.

"Could you spare me two days next week? I can work quickly." she asked.

"Well, I suppose that I could use the money," answered Martin Venn.

Hetty hadn't really considered that Venn would probably want paying. Nevertheless, they eventually agreed on a fee. He was to be paid more to pose fully clothed for two days than she had ever been paid to be painted stark naked in her whole life. It only served to confirm Hetty's belief that character was worth far more than beauty.

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Just when she didn't need it, Peregrine had heeded Hetty's advice and had gone off to try his hand at landscape painting.

Venn arrived just as Mrs Tidy and Flora were about to leave for the day.

"Would you like us to stay?" asked the older woman.

"That won't be necessary, thank you," said Hetty.

Flora gave her mother a rather knowing smirk.

"As you wish. We will bid you good day then," said her mother.

Hetty had very definite ideas about how she wanted to compose the portrait and had the studio set up accordingly. The light was to strike Venn at a forty-five degree angle from his right hand side.

Once seated, Venn was in a position that no man wishes to be in. He had a woman asking him questions when he couldn't run away. Women and men have differing views on the sanctity of a direct question. Women believe that they have a God given right to ask a man anything. Men, on the other hand, believe that it is their duty to avoid answering a woman's questions unless cornered.

Venn was cornered.

"Is your wife excited by your move to the small holding, Mr Venn?"

"Just Venn. I have no use for a wife."

"Hold still please. You don't believe in marriage then?"

"Not from what I've seen of it."

"You have had a bad experience?"

"My mother did. My father buggered off when I was two," said Venn, with a little bitterness.

"You shouldn't allow that to colour your judgement of relationships. Turn slightly towards the light, please."

"Besides, the only benefits of marriage that are worth having, I can pick up without marrying."

Hetty felt that she should change the subject.

"I understand that you fought in the Boer Wars," she said.

Venn went quiet for almost a minute.

"If you must know, I was with the Hampshires in the Transvaal. Before that I was holed up with Baden-Powell at Mafeking. I take no credit from any of it and I'd rather not talk about the whole evil business."

"Oh, I'm sorry I asked," apologised Hetty. She went quiet this time.

The tables were now turned.

He asked and Hetty couldn't run away.

"Is it true that the artists in London are always having orgies?" he said.

"I couldn't say. But if they do, I haven't yet received my invitation," Hetty deflected.

Hetty worked on in silence.

Eventually, Venn ventured another question. "Do you prefer to be tupped from the front or the rear?"

Hetty thought for a while before saying, "I'm not at all sure as I don't have a dictionary here."

The rest of the afternoon followed a similar pattern of long periods of silence interspersed with a question from either of them.

Thursday was much the same. Hetty would try to extract information about Venn's past and Venn would try to gain information regarding Hetty's private life.

For the purposes of this story, let us call this game of Chess a draw.

By late afternoon she was not completely happy with the portrait but felt that she could go no further with it.

"Do you wish to see the end result?" she asked Venn.

"If I wanted to see my face there is a mirror behind the bar in the pub. What I wish to see is..............the money."

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"So, how many of Mr Laycock's London friends will be staying for the weekend?" asked Mrs Tidy.

"Three single gentlemen and an older married couple," answered Hetty.

"In that case I will make up the other three bedrooms. Two of the gents will have to share."

"I'm sure that they won't mind," said Mrs Laycock.

"Will I cook two meals on Saturday and one on Sunday, then?" said Mrs Tidy.

"Oh no, that won't be necessary. The weather is set fair so if you leave some sandwiches for lunch on Saturday and a cold collation for the evening, that will be superb. They will catch the late morning train from Dorchester on Sunday so they can make their own arrangements," said Hetty.

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Peregrine had two motor cars pick them up from Dorchester Station and the party arrived at the cottage at about 11-30 am.

After a noisy chatty lunch they all went for a walk in the woods behind the cottage. As well as Adele and Justinian Wayfare there was the Philosopher, Cormack Snark.

Cormack had been at Cambridge with Peregrine. He could quote word for word from the philosophical writings of everyone from Plato to Bertrand Russell but he had never had an original thought in his life.

The novelist Roger Cass had, along with Cormack and Peregrine, been a founder member of the Bohemian Circle. He had previously had one book published. Of the one hundred copies printed precisely thirty-six had been sold, mostly to family and friends.

His publishers had refused to take on his latest work on the grounds that it was filth. Every other publishing house agreed that it was filth although not one of them returned his manuscript. Cass was forced to have the book printed privately abroad. When the two hundred books were finally delivered to him, he had been advised by his Solicitor that if he tried to sell any he would most likely be arrested immediately. On the other hand, giving them away was perfectly legal. His Solicitor had taken five copies. The remaining copies had been quickly snapped up.

As well as his two columns, which were published in Art Magazines, Justinian Wayfare also taught on a part-time basis at a North London Art School. This served to reinforce the old adage that 'those who can do, those that can't teach'. Among his students had been Albert Paige. At twenty-four Albert was the newest and youngest member of the Bohemian Circle as well as this weekend party.

Because the width of the path through the woodland was limited they naturally split into groups. Justinian and Peregrine led the way. No doubt they were denouncing the latest artistic movements. They shared the pet hate of photography and both believed that it was not art in any way.

Roger and Cormack followed.

Slightly behind them was Albert. He had found a stick and was enthusiastically taking the heads off of as much of the Dorset Flora as he could. He would occasionally complain loudly to his companions that he hadn't seen any of the wildlife yet. One suspected that his previous experience of wild animals had been confined to the Zoological Gardens of Regents Park.

Hetty and Adele lagged well behind.

"So, did you meet Justinian through your painting?" asked Hetty.

The older woman laughed, "Good God, no I don't paint. When I was young I had a rebellious streak. A friend of a friend mentioned that Justinian was looking for a model. The romantic notion of being a muse excited me. Besides, I knew it would upset my parents so I approached him. You young things can't appreciate how shocking it was back then. Mind you I did insist that he married me before I would sleep with him."

"In many ways my story echoes yours," said Hetty, not quite truthfully.

"Yes, taking your clothes off is one thing but you can't go too far," added Adele.

She went on, "I have kept my streak mainly under control as I have got older. Justinian still thinks that he is a wild spirit with all this talk of Bohemianism."

"I know, it sounds idyllic when men say it. Everybody should be free to act as they feel but they forget that women's desires may not always match theirs," said Hetty.

"Not to mention our insecurities, as one gets older one's bosom and backside fill out. Justinian says he prefers mine this way but he may just be saying that," said Adele.

"I would take him at his word if I were you. Men have such a wide range of tastes," giggled Hetty.

"Oh they do, they certainly do," laughed Adele.

She added tentatively, "Have you read Roger's latest work?"

Hetty thought before answering. She smiled and said, "I have but I'm not entirely sure that I would like anyone to know about it."

Adele laughed out loud again. "Yes, that young man has a rather vivid imagination."

"Quite."

"If he ever did fall into a relationship, I'm not sure if I should feel pleased or sorry for the young lady concerned," Adele went on.

"I know, some of the chapters are appealing but some are less so," Hetty went on.

Adele said a bit too much when she added, "I know that there is a fine line between pleasure and pain but there was a little too much tying up and use of the cane for my taste."

"Oh look, a few Primroses are still hanging on!" said Hetty.

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Mrs Tidy had excelled herself. As well as a Chicken and Ham Pie there was cold Roast Beef, Jersey Potatoes and a selection of Salad items. Followed by a Summer Pudding and Cream. They sat and ate at a large table in the garden.

As the evening light faded the party made their way indoors.

The gentlemen lounged in two loose groups. The composition of these ebbing and flowing depending upon the subject being discussed.

Hetty and Adele sat on a chaise a little on the edge of the room.

"Did it never bother you to have paintings of your naked body exhibited for public view?" asked Hetty.

"Not really," laughed Adele, "for two reasons. Firstly, Justinian's style was so abstract that I doubt anyone would recognise me, and secondly, nobody ever came to his exhibitions."

Hetty smiled broadly. "For someone who is not an artist you paint an accurate picture. Peregrine has talent but it is not in representing the human form. Some of his landscapes are first rate. I am endeavouring to steer him in that direction."

"Yes, they need to find their niche. Justinian is far better at writing about art than actually painting," confided Adele.

The Brandy was being passed around. Adele was sipping hers. Hetty preferred to continue drinking the Sauterne wine from dinner. That was until Roger Cass left the room and reappeared with a bottle of some green liquid.

"Anyone for Absinthe?" he asked.

The gentlemen all stated that they were and small glassfuls were poured.

"I would like to try some," said Adele.

"Not really a ladies drink, my dear," said Roger.

"On what possible grounds? I understand that intellectual women in France drink the stuff. You cannot extol outlandish notions of female freedom and then patronise me," said Adele, only half in jest.

"Forgive me, you are quite correct. Do try the Green Fairy," the writer said, placing the bottle on the table in front of the women.

Adele drained the remains of her Brandy and then poured herself a generous measure of the spirit. She slipped the yellowish green liquid.

"Oh, it's like aniseed but not quite and it's like liquorice but not quite that either. I rather like it. Will you take some Hetty?" Adele said.

"No thank you, I'm rather enjoying this Sweet Sauterne. Besides, you mentioned the two flavours I like least."

Cormack Snark good naturedly chided Roger for his inconsistencies of thinking regarding the weaker sex. This led to all of the other men expressing their opinions on Cormack's opinion.

It was almost inevitable that the topic of sexual freedom should raise its head.

As a mature free thinker, Justinian Wayfare believed that everybody would benefit from his view on the subject. Besides, the Absinthe had gone straight to his scrotum.

"It is abundantly obvious that men and women should be free to indulge any sexual passion that takes them without regard for the outmoded norms of society," he said.

"Yes, this is something that I will touch upon in my next novel," commented Roger Cass.

Cormack Snark questioned them further on the matter, "Do you feel that just because a woman is married that it should prevent her from indulging her passion with anyone she chooses?"

"No, she should never repress her desires. It is not natural," said Justinian.

Adele stood up, walked across the room and refilled her glass with Absinthe. She knocked it back in one gulp.

"Now, listen to me. Do I understand that you are all saying that a woman, even a mature woman, is free to have any sort of sex with anyone she chooses?" she asked.

She took the bottle of Absinthe and topped up her husband's glass. "Drink!" she commanded.

He drank and then answered, "Of course, it is obvious."

"You mean that she could perform any sort of act and none of you gentlemen would consider her lewd?"

Most of them spoke at the same time but the general consensus was that they wouldn't.

Adele addressed her husband directly, "So, it would be perfectly acceptable, to you, for me to remove my blouse, for instance?"

"It would," he said.

She did just that.

"And my skirt?"

"By all means."

Adele removed the belt and stepped out of her skirt.

"What about my petticoat and the ridiculous padding which is designed to make my more than ample hips and backside appear even bigger?"