I have always thought that the word “Bohemian” has got something infuriatingly bourgeois about it. Some how it is a glib and inadequate classification for some of the most interesting people in modern cultural history. But there it is and here we are. That is the word that has been bestowed by history – and for those who are interested I would heartily recommend Virginia Nicholson’s masterly survey Among the Bohemians – experiments in living 1900 – 1939.This is a rich and warm-hearted survey of people who in the early part of the twentieth century were linked together by art and eccentricity. It knits together lives entangled and divergent but all of its characters are colourful. They are for the most part artists and writers and Nicholson looks at how their daily lives differed from the norm. She unashamedly and very successfully takes a “laundry list view of history” and her compelling conclusion is that this motley crew of drinkers, dancers, talkers and painters were behind a minor cultural revolution.
So how might a bohemian of the period have been recognised by his or her countrymen? These were people who, in an age of economic uncertainty, prioritised art and beauty a long way above money. Whilst there were a few rich bohemians – they were for the most part, almost comically poor – living on a diet of black coffee and boiled eggs in freezing garret flats. In addition to this and probably most famously, they advocated rather more freedom in sexual relations that was otherwise accepted in their era. It was on this basis that Augustus John’s household came to consist of his wife, his mistress, at times, her other lover – and the collective children of the ensemble. Speaking of children – the raising of the young to be fearful of authority was another Victorian stricture which the bohemians had no truck with. Their children knew upbringings quite different from the rest of the population. Nicholson also shows how the bohemian was marked out by his dress, his (or rather, her) housekeeping, his willingness to travel, and even his dinner.
This patchwork of daily life is interesting for two reasons. Firstly, it clearly shows an historical parting of the ways – with the age of Victoria receding into the past and the modern age of individualism
opening up before us. Secondly, it shines a light upon the domestic circumstances, the everyday paraphernalia from which some of the most interesting British art and literature of the 20th century emerged. I am fascinated to learn that Dylan Thomas – whose poems I love – was so poor that he habitually stole clothes from his friends and wracked up colossal bar and hotel bills on their behalf. I have always loved Augustus John’s portrait of the Marchesa Casati (for more on the Marchesa Casati see my earlier post) – and this is enriched by the knowledge of the personal drama that sat behind its production.I have called Nicholson’s work “warm hearted”. This is because she manages to catalogue her “laundry list” of bohemia humorously, keeping in balance sympathy and admiration for the bohemians and also an awareness of how ill a life without boundaries could sometimes treat them. For all of the colour and drama and notable work produced, for many, po
verty, ill education and a chaotic home life were in fact the enemies of promise. Nicholson manages to show this without a trace of self-righteousness and her work is all the richer for it.I have included a few illustrations of notable bohemians. The images are of Dylan and Caitlin Thomas, Augustus John and Nina Hamnett.
As much as the name annoys me, I must admit to being a bit of a “bohemia” junkie in my book collection. For those who are interested, I have loved reading the following first hand accounts of this community:
- The Life of Dylan Thomas by Constantine Fitzgibbon
- Two Flamboyant Fathers by Nicolette Devas
- Laughing Torso by Nina Hamnett
- Our Spoons Came From Woolworths by Barbara Comyns.
