John Holms, born in 1897, was the son of a governor-general of the United Provinces of India, a prestigious beginning that hinted at a life of prominence. However, Holms’s path diverged from the diplomatic service his father envisioned, leading him instead to the battlefields of World War I and the bohemian circles of Europe, marked by both extraordinary potential and a tragic inability to realize it. This exploration of John Holms‘s life reveals a complex figure admired by literary contemporaries and entangled in the passionate life of Peggy Guggenheim, yet ultimately defined by his unfulfilled literary promise.
Early Life, Military Bravery, and Wartime Captivity
Sent to boarding school in England as a young boy, John Holms was initially expected to follow his father into diplomacy. However, the advent of World War I ignited a different ambition. He enrolled at Sandhurst Military College and, upon the war’s outbreak, joined the British Army. Deployed to the Western Front, Holms demonstrated remarkable courage and physical prowess. Peggy Guggenheim recounted a striking anecdote of his wartime service: “he was strong as a bull and had killed four Germans by hammering them on the head when he had surprised them breakfasting under a tree.” This act of brutal efficiency, however shocking, earned him the Military Cross, a testament to his bravery in the face of conflict.
Alt text: Portrait of John Holms in uniform during World War One, showcasing his youthful yet determined demeanor as a British Army officer.
Holms participated in the harrowing Somme offensive before being captured by the German Army in March 1918 during a night patrol. The subsequent seven months were spent in a prison camp in Mainz. This period of captivity, while restrictive, proved to be intellectually stimulating. Among his fellow prisoners were notable figures like Alec Waugh, Hugh Kingsmill, and John Milton Hayes. As author Mary Dearborn noted, these men, “students of what Waugh called the University of Mainz,” found themselves with ample time for intellectual pursuits, engaging in reading, writing, and discussion within the confines of their barbed-wire enclosure. This unlikely “university” fostered connections and conversations that would resonate in Holms’s post-war life.
Literary Aspirations and the Allure of Bohemia
After the war, John Holms aspired to become a full-time writer. His work garnered the attention of literary figures like Ernest Wishart, Douglas Garman, and Edgell Rickword, and his stories and book reviews found a place in their esteemed quarterly literary review, Calendar of Modern Letters. Despite this early promise and the encouragement from his peers, Holms struggled with productivity. Alec Waugh, a friend from his time in Mainz, observed, “He was how I expected a genius to look after he found his medium,” suggesting a man brimming with potential but somehow unable to harness it effectively. This sentiment of unfulfilled genius would become a recurring theme in descriptions of John Holms.
In 1919, Holms’s personal life took a significant turn when he met Dorothy Peacock, a woman seven years his senior. Their relationship blossomed, and though they never married, she became known as Dorothy Holms. For the next eight years, they embraced a nomadic lifestyle, traversing Europe, living in locations like St. Tropez, Salzburg, Dresden, Zagreb, and Paris. This period of wandering suggests a restless spirit, perhaps seeking inspiration or escape, or simply reflecting Holms’s disinclination to settle into a conventional life. A friend’s remark that Dorothy felt like a “governess to a baby” hints at the complexities of their dynamic and perhaps Holms’s inherent immaturity or dependence.
Entanglement with Peggy Guggenheim and a Life of Travel
A pivotal moment in John Holms‘s life arrived in 1928 when he and Dorothy met Peggy Guggenheim and her husband, Laurence Vail, while visiting Emma Goldman and Alexander Berkman. Peggy Guggenheim, known for her adventurous spirit and patronage of the arts, was immediately captivated by Holms. She described her first impression: “When I first met John Holms I was impressed by his elastic quality. Physically, he seemed barely to be knit together. You felt as if he might fall apart anywhere.” She elaborated on his striking physical presence: “He was very tall, over six feet in height. He had a magnificent physique, enormous broad shoulders and small hips and a fine chest. He wore a small red beard and looked very much like Jesus Christ.” This vivid description paints a picture of a man of striking appearance and unconventional charm.
Guggenheim’s attraction to John Holms was immediate and intense. She admitted, “all I remember now is that he took me to a tower and kissed me… that certainly made an impression on me, and I can attribute everything that followed to that simple little kiss.” This “simple little kiss” led to a passionate affair. Guggenheim invited the Holmses to her home in Pramousquier, where, as she recounted, “John and I found ourselves alone on the beach and we made love.” This marked the beginning of the end of Holms’s relationship with Dorothy and the start of his tumultuous and defining relationship with Peggy Guggenheim.
John Holms subsequently left Dorothy to live with Guggenheim. Their life together was characterized by constant travel. Guggenheim wrote, “It seems to me that John Holms and I did nothing but travel for two years. We must have gone to at least twenty countries and covered ten million miles of ground.” This relentless movement mirrors the earlier nomadic period with Dorothy, suggesting a deep-seated restlessness and perhaps an avoidance of commitment or sustained effort in any single area, including his writing.
The Frustration of Unfulfilled Genius
Despite his captivating personality and the high regard of his peers, John Holms was consistently plagued by an inability to realize his potential as a writer. Edwin Muir, a close friend, considered him “the most remarkable man I ever met,” praising his “majestic clarity and order” of mind. Yet, Muir lamented, “Though his sole ambition was to be a writer, the mere act of writing was another enormous obstacle to him.” Muir poignantly described it as “if the technique of action were beyond his grasp, a simple, banal, but incomprehensible mystery.” This “paralysis of will,” as others termed it, became the defining tragedy of Holms’s life.
Peggy Guggenheim echoed this assessment, acknowledging Holms’s extraordinary intellect but also his crippling inertia. “Since no one else shared his extraordinary mental capacity, he was exceedingly bored when talking to most people. As a result, he was very lonely.” She observed his self-awareness of his wasted potential: “He knew what gifts he had and felt wicked for not using them. Not being able to write, he was unhappy, which caused him to drink more and more.” Guggenheim was “shocked by his paralysis of will power. It seemed to grow steadily, and in the end he could hardly force himself to do the simplest things.” Her frustration is palpable as she admitted, “John had written only one poem in all the years he was with me. I had done nothing but complain about his indolent life.”
Even Emma Goldman, known for her radical activism, offered a sharp assessment in January 1929: “The main trouble is that John (Holms) is weak and ineffectual, a drifter unable to make one single decisive step. He wants to eat the pie and keep it at the same time.” Emily Coleman similarly noted his “incapacity to shoulder responsibility through some inexplicable paralysis of the will.” William Gerhardie captured the paradoxical nature of Holms’s reputation: “In every age… there are men who while achieving nothing give an impression of greater genius than the acknowledged masters of the day.” This poignant observation encapsulates the enigma of John Holms: a man who, despite lacking a tangible body of work, left a lasting impression of brilliance on those who knew him.
Tragic End and Lasting Impression
In March 1933, John Holms and Peggy Guggenheim met Douglas Garman, a director at Lawrence and Wishart, to discuss publishing Ryder, a novel by Djuna Barnes, a friend of Holms. While Garman did not publish Ryder, this encounter led to a new romantic entanglement as Guggenheim fell in love with Garman, though she initially remained with Holms.
That summer, Holms fractured his wrist in a riding accident on Dartmoor. Despite medical attention, the bones did not heal correctly, necessitating a minor operation. Tragically, on the morning of January 19, 1934, weakened by heavy drinking and suffering from a hangover, John Holms died under anesthesia during this routine procedure. His untimely death at a relatively young age solidified the narrative of a life cut short, a potential tragically squandered.
After Holms’s death, Peggy Guggenheim and Douglas Garman established a home together, marking a new chapter in Guggenheim’s life. However, the memory of John Holms and his profound, albeit unrealized, potential lingered. He remains a fascinating figure, a man who captivated those around him with his intellect and personality, yet ultimately succumbed to an internal struggle that prevented him from fulfilling his promise. John Holms‘s life serves as a poignant reminder of the complexities of genius and the often-unpredictable path from potential to achievement.
