Extracts from 'James Holmes & John Varley'

Extracts from ‘James Holmes and John Varley’ by Alfred T. Story (Richard Bentley & Son) 1894

This book is difficult to find so a substantial part is include. There are major references to both Richard & William Westall. The accuracy of some of the statements is questionable and I have placed brackets [ ] when I have corrected definite mistakes.

James Holmes – artist and courtier of George IV b 1777 – Father dealer in diamonds and precious stones lived in Clerkenwell.

p 8 The youth’s progress as an engraver was so rapid under Meadows’ excellent tuition that the entire management of the plates was ere long placed in his hands; and it is worthy to note that Richard Westall’s ‘Storm in Harvest’ and Sir Thomas Lawrence’s portrait of the Duke of Leeds were almost wholly engraved by him. In 1800, that is, when about 23 years of age, he engraved in stipple the portrait of Thomas Clio Rickman, after Hazlitt, which proved to be a work of great merit. Heaphy, the figure painter, and one of the early members of the Old Water Colour Society, was a fellow-apprentice under Meadows, and he and Holmes, in consequence became fast friends. Woolnoth, the painter, was also a fellow-apprentice.

Another man with whom the young engraver (James Holmes) became intimately acquainted during these years was William Westall, who, together with his brother Richard above mentioned, became his life-long friend.

Encouraged probably by these men, Holmes had during his apprenticeship devoted much time to drawing in water-colours.

P 27 During the early years of his artistic career, as already stated, Holmes was brought much in contact with the Westalls, and doubtless learned much from them.

P 35 I do not claim for Mr Holmes that he was the only artist who studied faithfully from nature at this time, but he was undoubtedly one of the advanced guard who had such a healthy influence upon art. The well-known confession of Fuseli, that ‘he did never look upon de nasty nature but it did put him out,’ touched a failing common to most of the artists of the time; and it is to those who were not afraid to approach ‘de nasty natur’, but went to it with sincerity, and copied it with inflexible diligence, that the art of today owes so much.

Holmes was one of the very few who sought nature for everything; and his patience and care in this respect once caused Richard Westall, a man who like Fuseli, preferred to work from his inner consciousness, and had learned by experience the faultiness of the method, to exclaim – ‘Ah Holmes, you are quite right to go to nature for everything; by so doing you will gain your end a great deal better and in half the time you otherwise would. I never went to nature for anything, and I have found my mistakes.’

This may account for Westall’s failure in later life, when his income, from being something like £3000 a year fell to next to nothing. The fact is, a new generation had arisen, - a generation of artists who studied nature more, and a generation of art lovers who were no longer satisfied with the school of pseudo-classicists.

In the early part of his career, that is before his commissions were sufficient either in number or importance to take up his whole time, Holmes did a good deal of work for Richard Westall, who was at that time a popular favourite, and executed many large works, in which he got the younger artist to assist him. In some cases Holmes, being an especially fine draughtsman, worked in the entire picture from the small original sketch.

Some of Westall’s most popular drawings were extensively multiplied by copper-plate in whit is known as aquatint, worked, particularly on the heads, being especially gifted in head-drawing.

Westall’s studio was at this time in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, a region especially affected by artists in those days. An incident which happened during this period of what might now be called “ghost” work greatly impressed Holmes, and he used to narrate it in after years. Westall had one evening given him a five pound note in payment for some work, and he had slipped it into his pocket, and gone some distance on his way home, when it suddenly occurred to him to see if he had got it safe. He felt in his pockets, and to his dismay discovered that he had lost it. Retracing his steps, and carefully examining every foot he had traversed, he had almost reached Westall’s door when he espised a bit of paper on the ground, and picking it up, found it was his lost note.

[Holmes shared with George Dawe]

Holmes’s great friend at this time was William Westall. As already stated, they had become acquainted with each other during Holmes’s apprenticeship. Subsequently their intercourse was interrupted for several years, during which Westall led a most adventurous career. He joined, as draughtsman, the expedition – ill fated so far as the commander was concerned – under Captain Flinders, for the exploration and survey of the coast of Australia, sailing in the Investigator in 1801, and being absent nearly four years. The adventures he went through in that time would have made the fortunes of a novelist of to-day.

After nearly completing her labours the Investigator became unseaworthy, and it was found necessary to return with her to Port Jackson. Here the ship was pronounced incapable of repair, and Captain Flinders was given the Porpoise, an old Spanish prize attatched to the colony, in which to return to England for a new vessel. She put to sea on August 10, 1803, in company with the East India Company’s ship Bridgewater, commanded by Captain Palmer, and the Cato of London. Standing to the north on the 17^th, both the Porpoise and the Cato struck on a reef, afterwards known as Wreck Reef. The Porpoise stuck fast, but the Cato rolled over and sank in deep water, her men having barely time to scramble on shore. Westall used to say that it was a miracle that many did not lose their lives, as when the catastrophe happened nearly all the men were playing cards in the forecastle.

The Bridgewater sailed away, abandoning them to their fate.

Leaving the greater number of the men on the reef, Captain Flinders sailed [his crew rowed] for Port Jackson for succour in one of the boats, and happily arrived there in safety.

Westall was one of those who remained on the reef, and he was wont to describe with much humour the life they lived there until the commander’s return. Once a boat’s crew went to the mainland to explore, and see if anything of the nature of food was to be had. A little way inland several men fell in with a family of Kangaroos, and none of them having ever seen or heard of such creatures before, they were almost terrified out of their wits, and tore back to the boat, exclaiming that they had seen the devil.

Westall managed to save most of his effects from the wreck, but in the disorder which ensued he lost a small silver palette, which was a prize awarded to him for drawing by the Society of Arts, and bore his name. He valued the article very much, and was greatly annoyed at the loss of it, but all his effects to find it were in vain. When he got back to England he applied to the Society in the hope that they might be induced to let him have another made like it; but this they refused. However, some time afterwards, going along Holborn and happening to look in a pawnbrokers window, Westall saw something so much like his lost palette that he went in and asked to be allowed to look at it. He found, to his joy, that it was the missing article, and of course straightaway purchased it. It had undoubtedly been stolen by one of the sailors during the disorder consequent on the wreck, and secreted amongst his effects till he got back to London, when he pawned it.

But this was not the strangest thing connected with this adventurous voyage. On Captain Flinders’ arrival at Port Jackson, the Rolla, bound for china, was sent to the relief of the castaways. Two schooners accompanied her, one to take back to Port Jackson those who preferred that course and the other, the Cumberland, of 29 tons, to carry Flinders to England for another vessel. On his way home the latter put in at Port Louis, Mauritius, and was taken prisoner by the French, who were then at war with England, and kept there for nearly seven years, not being released until June 1810. In the interim he had been almost forgotten. Setting to work, however, on the record of the expedition, he finished it by 1814, but was denied the satisfaction of seeing the consummation of his work in its issue to the public, as he died on the very day it was published.

One more incident connected with the expedition is worthy of record, as it rounds off the story with a sort of dramatic or poetic consistency, beloved of both reader and narrator. When the Bridgewater sailed away, leaving the crews of the Porpoise and the Cato to their fate, there was one man on board who charged Captain Palmer with his inhumanity, and prophesied that punishment for such misconduct must surely follow. History does not preserve the name of this man, [In fact it was Lt Tucker see Flinders p 309] but he was either the purser or one of the mates of the vessel. Moreover, so wroth was he at such conduct, or so convinced that the ship was accursed, that he quitted her at Calcutta. Sailing thence in due course for England, the Bridgewater was never more heard of, neither she nor any of her passengers or crew.

Westall sailed with the Rolla to China, and after an adventurous career there, returned home by way of India. He stayed some time in India, however, and met there the Duke of Wellington, then General Wellesley, who suggested his accompanying him in the campaign (his last in India) for which he was then making preparations. Westall used to regret afterwards that he did not do so; but after being away so long he was home-sick and eager to get back.

The Westalls were altogether a remarkable family. Besides Richard and William, there were several sisters, two of whom married brothers of the same profession as their own brothers. These were William Daniell RA, and Samuel Daniell, both of whom, like William westall, were great travellers. William accompanied his uncle Thomas Daniell RA to India, where they remained for many years, helping him with his drawings and sketches for his grand work on “Oriental Scenery” [There were only two known sisters of Richard & William – Mary married William Daniell but there is no record of her sister Anne marrying Samuel Daniell.]

…….

P 44 Richard Westall, it may not be generally known, had the honour of being the teacher of the Queen, while still a child, in drawing and painting, and won the sincere admiration and esteem of both Her Majesty and the Duchess of Kent by his amiability of manners and the care and address with which he directed Her Majesty’s early efforts in art.

He was a very proud man, and would not as a rule condescend to give instruction, but he consented to teach the Princess Victoria on the express condition that he should receive no pay.

P 45 Unlike his brother William, Richard never married; unlike William, too, who left a considerable fortune to be divided amongst his sons, he appears never to have saved anything and so in his later days fell into difficulties. It is said that when the Duchess of Kent and the Princess heard of this, a message was conveyed to him in the most delicate way inquiring if he needed any help. He replied that he did not. But as his end drew near, he became troubled about a blind sister [Anne], who was dependent upon him, and whom he feared to leave unprovided for.

He therefore wrote a letter to the Dutchess of Kent, telling her of his poverty and his consequent inability to make any provision for his sister, and asking her and the Princess’s consideration on her behalf. He gave direction that the letter should be posted immediately after his death. This was done, and the Duchess received it in the morning following his decease, and before the news of the event had reached the palace.

Knowing the handwriting, the Duchess exclaimed, “Oh, here is a letter from Mr Westall,” and immediately opened it to read its contents to the Princess, who was always delighted to hear from her old teacher.

Both were naturally very much surprised to learn the contents of the letter. It need hardly be added – so well is Her Majesty’s sympathy and bounty in such cases known – that the dying Academician’s request was nobly responded to, Miss Westall being at once granted a pension of £100 a wear from Her Majesty’s private purse, which she continued to receive until her death at an advanced age at Brighton, where she lived. As Westall’s death occurred in December 1836, this act of generosity on Her Majesty’s part took place in her eighteenth year.

Another intimate artist friend of Holmes was Luke Clennel, who, unfortunately, afterwards became insane.

P 121 William Westall was accustomed to relate how Turner’s look went through him when, on one occasion, seeing a picture of the master’s in which he had painted a palm-tree yellow, he ventured to approach the famous painter with trepidation and apologies, and inform him that a palm-tree was never yellow. “I have travelled a great deal in the East, Mr Turner” he went on, “and therefore I know of what I am speaking; and I can assure you that a palm-tree is never of that colour; it is always green,” “Umph!” grunted Turner, almost transfixing him with his glance. “Umph! I can’t afford it – can’t afford it;” and with these words he walked away. “I felt under his steady gaze,” said Westall, when relating the incident, - “I felt that it was quite immaterial what colour it was in nature, so long as he desired it different, and I think I could have sworn that it was different when under his eye.”

Holmes died on 24^th Feb 1860.