'Application and Dedication in all Endeavours, Domestic as well as Professional', agreed another. 'An Example to the Labouring Classes,' said a third, who later confided in me that an earlier work by Cousin Algernon hung in his study. 'Babette Preparing Vegetables, it is called. So exemplary do I consider his work that on occasion I call in my housekeeper or cook after dinner so that they also can gaze upon it in my company and reflect on its moral worth.' One senior clerical gentleman, suffering what I was later given to understand was hay fever, had to be led away, his eyes watering and his chest heaving after standing as if transfixed in front of The Rape of the Sabine Women in which Babette appeared in no less than twenty seven poses.
'Such flesh tones,' he had started muttering, 'And such flesh!
And so much of it!' Then, as he began to stammer and had to reach out for some support, I, recognising him as a Man of the Cloth-he was in fact the Rural Dean of N-d-assumed that he was in the throes of some transcendental experience. Gwendolen, who has a sharp eye for such things, claimed rather that he had become dangerously over-excited by the proximity of no less than twenty seven naked Babettes on one canvas and that he had in fact come in his trousers. 'Look on my Mighty Works and Despair,' proclaimed a tall, cadaverous man as he traced out the outline of Babette's great pendulous breasts with his walking stick. 'How bounteous is Nature. See where the twin globes of her bosom seem to loom like planets in the celestial firmament of her flesh. Truly a sight to make one humble before one's Creator. All things,' he went on, 'Wide and Wonderful, all Creatures great and tall…' I was afterwards informed that the tall gentleman was a hymn writer of some distinction and regularly attended such showings as this. He claimed to be able to detect the Hand of the Lord in the most unlikely places. After a while most of the people began to drift off and quite soon, apart from the three of us, there was only a small knot of some half a dozen or so gentlemen. Cousin Algernon suggested that we all withdraw to a smaller room that opened off one end of the gallery. He then came over to have a word with us, announcing that Babette herself was about to make an appearance.
'In the flesh?' I asked. 'Not immediately,' he answered, with a quick smile. 'But if you would like to stay on with your friends, lam sure you could be accommodated.' 'Some entertainment is afoot?' asked Gwendolen. 'In a matter of speaking,' he answered. 'Several of the gentlemen gathered here belong to a private club. They dabble in oils in a strictly amateur way. Since they are also collectors and valuable customers, I have arranged that they be given the opportunity to sketch Babette from Life.' 'What an enticing idea,' said Gwendolen. 'But will we not be something of an embarrassment?' 'I suggest that you all act as my assistants. You can help with the arrangement of certain properties, take Babette's robe from her when the moment comes to reveal all. That sort of thing.' 'This sounds great fun,' said Gwendolen. 'But I promise we will behave ourselves and do nothing to prejudice your commercial interests.' We were ushered through to the smaller room. Various items of a domestic nature were heaped in one corner. They included scrubbing brushes, a mop, a portable washtub, a couple of flat irons and a neatly folded pile of linen. It was obvious that Babette would be able to display herself in any number of household chores.
'What's that?' asked George, indicating a stout wooden pole with a cross piece at one end and a round piece at the other with five short legs. 'A poss stick,' said Cousin Algernon. 'It is used to stir up the washing in a tub when it is soaking in the hot water.'
'I am afraid that George, like so many men, has never paid proper attention to the domestic duties that have to be performed in any household,' said Gwendolen. 'I used to venture into the servants area at home when I was much younger,' said George, 'But I was firmly excluded after my mother found me helping one of the maids to adjust her clothing. There was also the small matter that she was holding my youthful prick in her hands and licking the tip in a most attentive fashion.' 'I assume from that that you have led an active life,' said Cousin Algernon. 'A man after my own heart. But for the present, could you give me a hand in setting out a nice derangement of objects.
Our amateur painters can then make the decision as to which pose they would wish Babette to adopt.' At this moment Babette herself swept into the room. Truly a magnificent creature, she was wearing a regal purple robe which entirely swathed the bountiful promise of her body but yet which hinted at the well-fleshed splendours it concealed.
We were quickly introduced and she embraced us all warmly but briefly.
'Cecily, I have heard all about you from Algernon,' she said. 'Do either of your friends have any knowledge of the world of the artist?'
'I have a distant cousin who is employed as a designer of pottery at Messrs Doulton's establishment,' said Gwendolen. 'But she does not have to appear in a state of undress?' asked Babette. 'Not at her place of work,' answered Gwendolen, 'Although on more private occasions she is frequently quite eager to reveal herself in a state of nature.' 'Perhaps I might be introduced to this cousin,' I interjected. 'She has the sound of a person of sympathetic disposition.' 'You will have much in common,' said Gwendolen.
'Fucking and being fucked is her chief delight. What a quartet we will make.' 'Quartet?' I queried. 'She has a sister of similar tastes. Their mother is also a woman with refreshingly unconventional ideas. They now also have staying with them Rosalind Murphy. You may remember her. She was a year behind us at school.' 'Rosie!' I exclaimed. 'Rosie with the rosy bottom. What fun it will be to meet her again.' 'Enough of this chatter,' said Cousin Algernon. 'Our would-be painters will be making their entry shortly.' With this we fell to sorting out the pile of domestic articles. George and Cousin Algernon pulled the mangle into place and a woman appeared with pails of warm water with which the washtub was filled. In a trice the stage had been set for Babette's performance. Our amateur artists were led in. For a moment they fell silent in awe and anticipation at the sight of Babette. She, as yet fully clothed, moved among them, exchanging greetings as they were introduced. Ranging from the middle-aged to the elderly, one and all appeared to be respectable and sober representatives of the professional and upper commercial classes. Two, I vaguely recognised as men of some importance in Public Affairs. Two others were of military bearing and a third, of Gallic appearance, had the ribbon of the Legion d'Honneur in his lapel.
'Gentlemen, I am honoured to welcome you to our Private Master Class in painting from Life,' said Cousin Algernon. Let us now prepare ourselves.' Easels, paints, palettes and canvases were produced. There was a intent bustle of activity. Babette advanced on them with an armful of smocks. 'To avoid any splashes,' she said. 'Painting is an enjoyable but messy exercise.' She passed among them, removing coats, slipping the smocks over them, buttoning them or tieing them briskly at the back. Many of the gentlemen were clearly quite excited at the touch of her hands. One who in turn attempted to place his hand on her splendid rump, had it firmly removed but all was done with a half-smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye so that not only was no offence caused, but a teasing air of promise caused the gentleman to become somewhat purple with pleasure anticipated. 'Gentlemen,' said Cousin Algernon, 'Madame Babette will now take up the first pose of the evening. However, the choice is yours. Would you have her at the tub, at the mangle, or possibly on all fours in her imposing imitation of a servant engaged in scrubbing?' A veritable babble of competing voices was raised. 'The mangle,' cried one.