The Passing of Lady Lydia Elizabeth Acland (née Hoare)

Over the next few entries, we'll be working to get a final few items on-line regarding the life, times, and family of George Mills.

Today, it'll be just a quickie: The obituary of George's great grandmother, Lady Lydia Elizabeth Acland, wife of Sir Thomas Dyke Acland of Killerton, Devon. Lady Acland passed away at the age of 69 on 23 June 1856 at 34 Hyde Park Gardens, London, residence of George's paternal grandfather, Arthur Mills, M.P., husband of her daughter Lady Agnes Lucy Acland Mills.

Lady Acland (née Hoare) is see in the portrait above, left, by Sir Thomas Lawrence, with her children Arthur Henry Dyke Acland and Sir Thomas Dyke Acland, 11th Bt., George's great grandfather

Here is the article from page 257 of the August 1856 issue (Vol. 201) of The Gentleman's Magazine and Historical Review:

June 23, suddenly, at Hyde-park Gardens, London, the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Mills, aged 69, Lydia Elizabeth, wife of Sir Thomas Dyke Acland, Bart., M.P., of Killerton, Devonshire. The funeral of the late lamented Lady Acland took place on Saturday evening last, in the yard of the old family chapel of Columbjohn, and was attended in large numbers by the tenantry and their wives, by the poor, and by almost the whole neighbourhood. The scene was one of the most simple but affecting description, and the demeanour of all present evinced not only their reverence for the sacred rite then performing, but also their deep feeling for the departed, and her surviving relatives. The funeral was attended by Sir Thomas Acland and his four sons, by several grandchildren, by Lady Acland's nephews (sons of her brothers, Mr. George and Archdeacon Hoare) by Lord Carnarvon, Lord and Mr. Charles Courtenay, Right Hon. John Fortescue, Mr. Hoare of Luscombe, Mr. Blencowe, Mr. Jenkinson, Dr. Miller, and several other private friends. In the evening the procession started from the house, soon after six o'clock, and consisted of a hearse and four horses; mourning coaches with four horses each; three private carriages; and by some 300 or 400 of the tenantry on the estate. The Rev. J. Hellings, and the Rev. Appom officiated on the occasion. As a proof of the reverential feeling exhibited by the attendants, it may be stated that on the Lord's Prayer, in the funeral service, being commenced, everyone in the chapel-yard, amounting to several hundreds, immediately knelt, and continued in that posture till the whole was concluded.


Lady Acland, pictured, right, in a posthumous mezzotint executed by Samuel Cousins after an 1848 portrait by painter Joseph Severn, was buried in the graveyard of the Columbjohn Chapel at Broad Clyst, Devon, England.

While George Mills never met Lady Acland—he was born exactly 40 years after her death—this obituary does indicate the connections his family would have had among the powerful Aclands. While his grandfather, Arthur Mills, was an in-law, George's father was blood, as were George, his half-brother, and his sisters.

And, as we don't know where George's body was interred (if, in fact, he was not cremated), we must consider the fcat that George's final resting place may be in there Columbjohn, not far from George last residence in Budleigh Salterton.

I have been unable to find and access records regarding those laid to rest within that burial ground.

Sidebar: Women, Technology, War, and the Army Pay Corps

It may be instructive at this point to examine what sort of an operation the Army Pay Corps was during the tenure of George Mills from 11 April 1917, when he transferred into Dover (presumably voluntarily), to his permanent and compulsory transfer out on 9 September 1918.

John Black published a paper entitled War, women and accounting: Female staff in the UK Army Pay Department offices, 1914-1920 in the Accounting History Review, Volume 16, Issue 2, July 2006 , on pages 195 – 218. Its abstract describes the situation in which members of the APC found themselves at the onset of hostilities during the First World War:

"The role of the APD [Army Pay Department] offices was to manage the pay and allowances of soldiers of the British Army, using the 'Dover' system of military finance and accounting which had been introduced in 1905 along with the command structure of the Army Finance Branch. The flexible 'Dover' system coped with the unprecedented increase in bureaucracy as the strength of the army rose from 140,000 in 1914 to over 5 million by 1918."

A valuable 2008 book, Women and Their Money 1700-1950: Essays on Women and Finance, edited by Anne Laurence, Josephine Maltby, and Janette Rutterford, features Black's detailed essay describing the operation of the APD and APC during the First World War, with their emphasis being on the women staffers. At one point, by some estimates, 28,000 women were employed in the department and corps.

One interesting part of the history of army payrolls is that apparently the system previously had been retrenched and reformed, leaving the APD and the APC in a state of temporary abandonment from 1904 to 1910. Black writes: "The onset of total war [in 1914] resulted in the urgent need for industrial as well as military expansion and mobilization… [and] for enormous administrative and clerical support, as the immediate bureaucratic expansion of the financial system of the Army caused a near-meltdown of the existing system."

The need for assistance resulted in women being recruited as unofficial volunteers to help at the Army Pay Office at Woolwich between August and the end of October 1914. The War Office, however, didn't approve and ordered their removal.

Ironically, just one week later, in November 1914, women were officially recruited for work in the War Office Finance Branch, working on "matters involving separation allowances and the disposal of the effects of soldiers who were battle casualties."

Black continues: "From January 1915 the War Office began to officially recruit clerks on a temporary basis for employment in all APD establishments, including the army pay offices… From 1915 onwards, there were increasing numbers of women clerks employed within APD establishments in the UK measured against the decline of male clerks from 1915 to 1920."

What we see here is that the Army Pay Corps, overwhelmed at the opening of hostilities and in need of clerical help, likely took advantage of as many BIII classified soldiers as possible. George Mills was probably a somewhat hot commodity, even in 1917, coming over from the Rifle Brigade where he'd served as an unpaid Lance Corporal. Even if Mills had left that brigade due to any sort of deficiency, physical or otherwise, we can see that an extra pair of hands would have been considered a boon to the suddenly burgeoning and understaffed APC.

Black also explains: "The loose-leaf ledger system was introduced into the army pay offices during 1915, some moths after the official recruitment of women clerks… [It] possibly accelerated the numbers of women clerks needed to operate the 'mechanical' function successfully. The number of women clerks recruited by July 1915 numbered only 479… Six months later in January 1916 the number had risen to 4,556 and by July 1916 had risen to 9,304."

The author also points out that expansion of the army's pay services spiraled because the "notion that the war begun in 1914 would be a short one, over by Christmas, had evaporated in November 1914," and the services suddenly needed to rethink what was necessary to meet such increased and prolonged demand. New technologies were introduced to pay offices that wouldn't find their way into other sections of the military until after the war.

Not only had loose-leaf mechanics replaced leather-bound ledgers, but stencil duplicators were also in common use, as well as "Qwerty" keyboard typewriters. Evidence of the use of all of these modernisms can easily be found in the WWI records of George Mills. The author also asserts that there is ample evidence the "Burroughs adding machines and other labour-saving devices were also being used at this time."

Black goes on to suggest that there was a "shallow learning curve" associated with the daily APC routine, and that "women and girls whose previous employment may have been as machine operatives and other unskilled factory work took on the role as compiler clerks within the army pay offices very quickly."

The payroll office in Nottingham in 1916 did research that "tends to demonstrate that the transfer of mechanical skills from blue collar to white blouse was quick and effective both in training and performance."

Not everyone was in agreement, however. A contemporary document, the Griffiths Committee Report, related the fact that up to 70% of clerical work in offices was being done by female labour, "much of it an inferior and inexperienced type… The majority of the remainder being men unfit for combatant service and many of them hardly fit for strenuous office work."

While this report certainly knocks the women working for the APC, it is certainly not the least bit flattering to the men in those offices, either. George Mills was likely not alone in being seen as a relatively useless cog in a increasingly complex paperwork-generating machine that was desperately in need of skilled assistance. In 1916, for example, the Army Pay Office dealt with "660,000 accounts, while 25,000 postal communications postal communication are received each day," many of which required follow up investigations. That overwhelming workload would have steadily increased as the war dragged on into 1917 and 1918.

One must keep in mind that Black has pointed out that the APD and APC were at the vanguard ushering in office technologies that most would have found uncommon at the time, especially in the UK. He offers the following quote: "In the United States [at the time] office mechanisation was driven in large part by an ideology of systematic management; this ideology did not make it to Britain until after World War 1."

Finding enough capable workers to operate in fast-paced, increasingly modern offices full of the latest technology—yes, even the clacking typewriter was still 'modern technology' at that time—must have been a yeoman task. A man like George Mills, schooled at Harrow and sequestered in the The Grove, a house "strong in Art and Drama, and increasingly in Music, with a longer reputation for sporting prowess," was unlikely by education or by breeding—George was great-grandson of the Aclands of Killerton, grandson of rich and powerful Arthur Mills, MP, and son of well-to-do cleric and biblical scholar, the Rev. Barton R. V. Mills—to have had even the most remote clerical skills to allow him to keep pace with his distinctly plebeian office mates.

The patience shown by harried superiors is unlikely to have been much, and his situation must constantly have been tenuous at best. I will offer this olive branch of understanding to Mills regarding reverse-sexism that must have bitten him often at the time: Officers watching civilian women of that "inferior and inexperienced type" outperforming him, with his 30-inch chest and upper-crust upbringing, on a daily basis for an entire year must have, indeed, made him seem, by comparison, like one of the biggest failures in khaki.

And there were certainly enough women around to outshine him continually. In March 1917, a month before George Mills transferred into the APC, its overall military manpower was 7,693. That was augmented by 959 male civil clerks and a whopping 11,920 female civil clerks.

In August 1918, just before Mills was unceremoniously shown the door, the totals stood at 11,761 APC military staff, 997 male civil clerks, and a stunning 17,532 female civil clerks in the employ of the Pay Corps.

Between August 1918 and December 1918, the staff of the APC ballooned from that 11,761 figure above to 18,184—an influx of 6,423 actual soldiers in just four months—to reach its high water mark of wartime military staff.

However, at least one soldier was being transferred in the opposite direction, and involuntarily at that: Pte. G. R. Mills, APC 12892.

In a branch of the military so obviously starved for labour, it must have been quite an indictment of Rifleman George Mills to have been described, as we've seen, as a "fatigue man" who wouldn't "ever make corporal" and was simply "not much use."

To have been summarily and permanently sent on his merry way must have been a crushing blow to young and sensitive George, whose Uncle Dudley Mills was a highly respected captain in the Royal Engineers, and whose elder half-brother, Arthur Frederick Hobart Mills, was a recent war hero who had been wounded in France and awarded the 1914 Star, the British War Medal, and the Inter-Allied Victory Medal [left].

This is not to imply that George's family would have been ashamed of him in any way. Still, he would have to have been utterly oblivious or the owner of a certifiably bullet-proof self-esteem not to have felt injured to some degree by the way circumstances had played out for him.

George Mills—Army Form W5010 in hand and on his way to the O.C. Transfer Centre in September of 1918—would need to reinvent himself, both as a soldier in what was left of the Great War and as a potential member of the workforce when peace finally arrived.

How much of the responsibility he must have borne himself, perhaps out of laziness or even an initial feeling of disrespected privilege, is open to conjecture. It seems clear, though, that the slight, polite, and possibly even timid (at least by comparison with other recruits) Mills was quite unprepared in a great many ways for his military duties.

Next time we'll examine in more depth some of the medical reasons Mills had been classified physically as a BIII, including some issues that certainly couldn't have helped matters at all.

Minehead: Saying Goodbye to Vera Louise Mills

Well, what do you know? I'm finally getting efficient at manipulating the painfully cumbersome search engine at The Times. My latest discovery is the death notice of Vera Louise Beauclerk Mills, beloved wife of George Mills, who passed away on 5 January 1942 at the age of 48.

The entire notice reads: MILLS.— On Jan. 5, 1942, suddenly, at 69, Summerland Avenue, Minehead, VERA LOUISE, wife of GEORGE RAMSAY ACLAND MILLS, and daughter of the late William Nelthorpe Beauclerk, aged 48.

This appears in The Times four days after Vera's actual death [right; double-click images to enlarge]. There is no mention of any services or flowers, so could one presume the body was not returned to London for a funeral, even though Vera had kin on both sides of the family in Kensington?

It may be important to note that George Mills at this time was serving as a paymaster in the Royal Army Pay Corps, and had been for well over a year. My speculation had been that, since Vera died in "Exmoor" according to records available at ancestry.com, he may have been assigned to the temporary pay office set up in Ilfracombe. Now, knowing that Vera must have been living in Minehead, it's more likely that Mills was serving at the pay office in Taunton, near family land and where his grandfather once served as M.P. If George had actually been at Ilfracombe, he'd have been almost as close to Minehead as Taunton, but what is now solidly the Exmoor National Park would have had to be traversed near the sea during winter.

Despite living often in London, George Mills showed a proclivity to be seaside throughout his life, possibly stemming from his boyhood in Bude Haven, Cornwall, near the Celtic Sea. Portslade, Brighton, Eastbourne, Seaford, and Budleigh Salterton on the English Channel were all places where Mills later in life either worked or lived.

Was Vera living with a family a block or two from Minehead's Esplanade, waiting for Mills to be granted leave so he could travel from Taunton [pictured, left] and spend a weekend with her now and then by the Bristol Channel? According to Wikipedia, "Evacuees were billeted in Minehead during the Second World War." Perhaps while an evacuee in the strictest sense, Vera probably traveled to an area well away from the Blitz to be near husband George.

Did the fact that Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth often strolled the hills above Minehead also enter into George helping find a nearby place for Vera? Wikipedia: "The wooded bluffs above Minehead feature as the Hermit's abode 'in that wood which slopes down to the sea,' in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Coleridge. Mills, apparently a schoolmaster of "English or English subjects" in his career before the war may have had a soft spot in his heart for the work of the two Romanticists and encouraged Vera to hunker down there, below the rise [below, right] where the two giants once trod.

How Vera died, we do not know. Heart attack? Stroke? Possible, but at 48 not as likely as at 58, I suppose. Car accident? Could be.

Her death record lists the location as being "Exmoor, Somerset." Perhaps that was almost the same as saying "Minehead, Somerset" in 1942—I don't know. One might think, perhaps, a fall from a horse while riding in the vast forest, but on January 5? I guess that could be more likely than I suppose, but I wouldn't think so now—not in winter. No matter: Whatever happened must have simply shattered Mills.

Anyway, the world and the war had certainly begun to change in the four weeks prior to Vera's unexpected passing. The bombing of Pearl Harbor had thrust the United States into the war in both the European and Pacific theatres. What that meant to the British I'm uncertain, but it had to be a lift knowing that reinforcements would be arriving after the frustratingly isolationist Americans were finally involved.

Just a glance at the headlines [below, left] in The Times from the day of Vera's notice, January 9th, shows clearly how worldwide the war had become and how much of the surface of the Earth deeply concerned citizens in England.

Now, for all we know right now, Mills could have been assigned to Ilfracombe, or to Wolverton, Nottingham, or York. He might have already been assigned to post near a front. Perhaps Vera or George had friends or family in Minehead, or could it even have been that Vera had been evacuated—Could she have been injured?—from London for her own good, regardless of George's geographical location at the time? Could she even have been volunteering at the children's home at Holnicote. After all, Holnicote was on the huge 12,500 acre Exmoor estate owned by the Aclands—kin of George Ramsay Acland Mills.

The question there is: Why would Vera have been staying at 69 Summerland Avenue when Mills's relatives had vast holdings in the area. The domicile on Summerland is lovely, but not exactly what would seem to me to be Acland-worthy, at least not back at that time, when the land was may still have been, or else extremely recently was, Acland land.

We don't even know how close George was to that side of his family at the time—his sisters, Agnes and Violet, lived with their mother, Edith, who may have tended to be closer to the Ramsay clan after the death of patriarch Revd. Barton R. V. Mills. The only person by that name who attended George's 1925 wedding was a "Miss Acland," whose name was not listed by The Times anywhere near the close family.

Of course, George's step-brother, Arthur Mills, and sister-in-law, Lady Dorothy Mills, did not attend what appears to have been a fairly lavish society wedding in Brompton and the Hans-crescent Hotel.

Why, exactly was Vera in Minehead? Had it anything to do with the Aclands? Had it more to do with the proximity of the Taunton office of the RAPC? Or had it simply been that Vera had been evacuated there and never made it back to London? Who owned 69 Summerland (Oh, for a copy of Kelly's Directory, Somerset, for 1939!) and how did Vera hook up with them? And where was George?

As always, if you have any information to share, no matter how little it may seem, please contact me. It would be greatly appreciated!

Of Walpoles, Beauclerks, Ramsays, Aclands, and Mills

Let's take a holiday break from the sordid tale of Robert "Robin" Horace Walpole—whose fate was lamented in our last post by an unnamed "London correspondent"—and recall why his proceedings against German governess and alleged 'adventuress' Valerie Wiedemann are anything more than an interesting sidebar to our research on George Mills.

Remember that Mills's grandfather had been Arthur Mills, a moderately powerful Member of Parliament, friend of Gladstone, world traveler, expert on colonization, and son-in-law of Thomas Dyke Acland, 11th Baronet, M.P. for Devon North and Somerset West, and Privy Counsellor.

George's father had been the Reverend Barton Reginald Vaughan Mills, an Anglican cleric (who was a practicing Catholic) with a checkered career who became a foremost scholar researching, interpreting, translating, and publishing the writings of St. Bernard of Clairvaux.

Barton had two sons and two daughters, the first son having been born of his first wife, Lady Catherine Mary Valentia Hobart-Hampden, who was granted the rank of Earl's daughter at their wedding.

Barton's elder son, Arthur Frederick Hobart Mills [pictured, right, circa 1925], was born on 12 July 1887 after his mother had returned from Italy after surviving the February earthquake in San Remo, where Barton was apparently working as a chaplain. Lady Catherine would die two years later, an event that must have rocked the worlds of both Barton and young Arthur.

Barton eventually remarried, taking Elizabeth Edith Ramsay, daughter of Sir George Dalhousie Ramsay, C.B., as his second wife. "Edie" would give birth to Agnes Edith (1895), our George Ramsay Acland (1896), and Violet Eleanor Mills (1901).

Barton himself had married well, and his two boys would eventually do the same.

George, who became a schoolmaster masquerading as a graduate of Oxford, took the hand of Vera Louise Beauclerk, a society girl listed among the peerage in The Plantagenet Roll of Royal Blood, in 1925.

His half-brother, Arthur, had also married well, taking Lady Dorothy Rachel Melissa Walpole, elder daughter of our own Robert Horace Walople, 5th Earl of Orford, as his wife in 1916. Marrying Arthur, then an apparently impoverished commissioned officer and war hero in the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, caused Lady Dorothy to become estranged from her father who insisted on a marriage to a more suitable [read: rich] match.

Lady Dorothy Mills [pictured, left, in 1924], of course, had been born and bred amid the turmoil and seemingly endless repercussions of the scandalous Wiedemann v. Walpole trials, and all of that could not have had any small impact on the entire family, including impressionable Lady Dorothy.

Nevertheless, the boys had done well for themselves in regard to matrimony, which is likely why we know so much about the family today. Even with such influential wives, the literary works of George and Arthur Hobart Mills have been largely forgotten. Having married into the peerage, however, assured that they had been recorded in the public record for posterity—at least the portions of their lives led within the duration of each man's childless marriage.

George's wife, Vera, died in 1942, after which George, in seriously ill health a year later, faded into almost impenetrable obscurity. He surfaced only as editions of his books from the 1930s were revived in the 1950s, as a summer instructor at the Ladycross School in Seaford, East Sussex, in 1956, and as an on-again, off-again croquet player in amateur tournaments around southern England while residing with his spinster sisters in Budleigh Salterton, Devon, where he passed away in 1972.

His brother, Arthur, was divorced by Lady Dorothy in 1933 after having been discovered engaging in an adulterous affair the previous year.

Arthur Mills did remarry later in 1933, but, like his brother, George, almost completely dropped off the proverbial map except to publish 14 lightly-regarded crime/spy novels. Apparently, Arthur primarily gardened, golfed, and spent time with his new wife, Monica, 17 years his junior, until his death at Winds Cottage, Downton, near Lymington, Hampshire, in 1955. George Mills appears to have never remarried.

The fact that we know so much about the Mills brothers, George and Arthur, is largely attributable to their "high profile" first wives.

There's still much to be known about Arthur's relationship with his entire family, and especially with his brother George [pictured, right, in 1956], whose 1925 wedding Arthur failed to attend.

We can glimpse some of what must have been Arthur's life through the eyes of Lady Dorothy, a prolific and extremely private travel writer, who left clues to her relationship with Arthur—a relationship that was certainly coloured by her own relationship with her father, the estranged Earl of Orford—bread-crumbed through her writings.

And so we have been exploring the relatively sordid roots of Lady Dorothy's family history for clues to both her relationship with her husband, Arthur Mills, and his brother, George.

There are still a few more twists and turns in the story of Robert Horace Walpole, the last Earl of Orford and father of our Lady D., and we'll examine them in upcoming posts, as well as linking interestingly ambiguous aspects of her autobiography to her father's life story.

And before I forget, many thanks to everyone who has helped me research the life and career of George Mills, and have a safe, healthy, and happy new year!

Peculiar. Very peculiar...

My father retired, I think, in 1979. I remember asking him about something and he replied that he hadn't had time to think about it yet.

"Time?" I asked him. "You're retired, Dad."

"I'll tell you," he replied, "I don't know how I ever squeezed in working full-time. It seems like I've more to do now then ever!"

That's basically how I feel just a few weeks into my summer. Time to write about George Mills? Not as much as I would have thought, and having my work e-mail shut down for a week for a system upgrading didn't help at all.

Long ago, it seems, we looked at phone numbers and addresses for the Mills family through 1925, the year of the wedding of George Mills and Vera Louise Beauclerk. It seemed a natural time to graze the British telephone directories for new listings involving George Mills. I knew he and Vera had gone to Portslade to work at Windlesham House School. I'd have expected to find him there.

Geoerge and Vera never crop up in Brighton or Portslade listings, but apparently did surface in the October 1926 London telephone directory—perfect timing, considering George had cut ties with Windlesham at the end of the Summer Term in 1926.

He had appeared at a time I would have expected, given how the events at Windlesham played out, but it was at an address I didn't expect. The 1926 listing reads: "Mills George R. A, 51 Wickham Rd. S.E. 4… New X… 2332." [And, as we know, George's full name is George Ramsay Acland Mills.]

Now, I found these London directory pages at ancestry.com, but their search engine always frustratingly teases you with only occasional dribs and drabs of specifically what you're looking for while often barraging you with completely unrelated references. It took awhile, but I eventually ferreted out listings for that same name, address, and phone number through the March 1929 book.

Thinking about the Mills time-line we know, George worked for some unspecified time at Warren Hill School in Meads, Eastbourne, after he and Windlesham separated in 1926. This address would seem to imply that George remained working on the southeastern coast through the end of the decade. the 51 Wickham Road address is a building housing multiple flats today, as it likely did then.

I speculated things must have been going well for the young couple, being able to both buy a home in Portslade and keep a flat in town. Of course, they may immediately sold the home in 1926. Still, it seemed a bit odd that their flat would have been in Lewisham, so far away from Kensington, where all of the kin on both sides of their families lived within a small radius.

We also know that by 1933, George had also taught in Windermere at The Craig School, and in Glion, Switzerland, at the mysterious English Preparatory School.

A second 1929 London directory came out that September, and the same listing has changed significantly, reading: "Mills, G. R. A, 27 Le May av S.E.12…….LEE Gn.. 4643." G. R. A. Mills then stays listed at 27 Le May Avenue [pictured, upper left] in each year through the May 1934 London directory.

I wondered about that, but realized that Vera would probably not have been inclined to go north with him, or to Switzerland, and probably wanted to stay near her family. 27 Le May Avenue [right] in Lewisham is actually a pretty nice home today, and must have been then as well. Still, it struck me as quite odd that, if George had been living away from home in Windermere and Switzerland, why would Vera have wanted to be residing so far from Kensington?

Vera's mother had passed away in June of 1933, as had George's father in 1932. It wouldn't be surprising if George and Vera had come into some money during that span of time, and there also would have been additional income for the couple from the publication of his first book, Meredith and Co. in 1933.

Given the financial windfalls the couple likely would have experienced, it wasn't surprising for me to find yet another new listing for G. R. A. Mills in the November 1934 phone directory: "Mills, G. R. A, 24 Beadon rd, Bromley….. RAVensbrn 0819." Using Google Maps to take a peek at 24 Beadon Road reveals a extremely fine-looking house to be moving into in the midst of the Great Depression. Not bad for a fellow who, at this time, would seem to have then found some employment as a schoolmaster at institution, seemingly lost in the mists of time, the Eaton Gate Preparatory School, London, S.W.1.

This would all seem to blow my theory about a struggling and often jobless George Mills during this time frame right out of the water! The only thing I wonder: With kin in Kensington and a job right there in Eaton Gate, why keep addresses—no matter how lovely—so far across the river in Lewisham and Bromley. Perhaps, I thought, real estate was much cheaper at the time if one purchased in the southeast of London, on the far side of the Thames.

That 24 Beadon Road listing in Bromley stays in the London telephone directory until the next watershed year in the career of George Mills: 1939. In that year, Mills publishes two books, Minor and Major as well as St. Thomas of Canterbury, after having published his second novel, King Willow, in 1938.

Predictably, with new finacial gain, that 24 Beadon Road listing disappears from the February 1939 London directory. That's not too surprising since G. R. A. Mills seems to change domiciles in tune with the major events of his life. No listing for a G. R. A. Mills replaces it, however.

Perhaps Mills had anticipated the war in a very pragmatic way. We know that George returned to the army in October 1939, becoming a paymaster in the Royal Army Pay Corps, and perhaps, knowing he planned to make that career move, he had already started to make arrangements for a change back to a career in the service of the Colours. No matter, that 24 Beadon Road listing stays out of the London directories for quite a while.

A listing for a Mrs. G. Mills soon shows up in the 1940 Exeter telephone directory: "Mills, Mrs. G, South Vw, 28 Exeter rd……..Crediton 112." Crediton is just a few miles outside of Exeter, where George could have been stationed as a paymaster at the FCO there. It would make sense: He had kin among the Aclands at Killerton and Broad Clyst.

Vera died in 1942, however, in Exmoor—again Acland land, only farther north—where there was also an FCO of the RAPC in nearby Taunton. There are no listings for any Mills, G. R. A., George, or Mrs. George, in Somerset around 1942. In fact, there are hardly any Acland listings there at that time.

By 1943, Mills relinquished his commission in the service due to "ill health." Where did he then go? A recent widower and presumably too ill to work, it would make sense for him to head to Kensington, and the care of his mother, Edith Mills, and his sisters, Agnes and Violet.

By 1948, the listing for G. R. A. Mills at 24 Beadon Road in Bromley returns to the London directory, this time sporting a barand-new telephone number "RAVensbrn 0451." Is Mills finally well again, and ready to resume his life in Bromley once more after so much time?

Again, there are very good reasons to think that 1948 is another key year in the life of George Mills, but that's something we'll get to next time.

Before I finish, here’s the caveat regarding all of this. While preparing to write this post, I happened to notice something I hadn't seen before.

There was a listing—a new London listing— I'd overlooked in the earlier 1926 London directory, the edition that had been published in April: "Newcross .. 2332 Mills, George Robert Alexander .. .. 51 Wickham rd S.E.4."

George Robert Alexander Mills. G. R. A. Mills…

That 51 Wickham Road address apparently never did belong to George and Vera Mills. I'd been fooled by the fact that after one publication, George Robert Alexander had condensed his full name to G. R. A in subsequent editions of the London directory.

What of those other addresses? Have I simply tracked the upwardly-mobile movements of George Robert Alexander Mills through 1948, and not those of George Ramsay Acland Mills at all?

Is it sheer coincidence that key dates in the life of our George Ramsay Acland Mills always seemed to—somehow, through the ether—prompt someone named George Robert Alexander Mills to relocate as well?

Or is the coincidence simply that one of those listings coincidentally saw the permanent removal of the George Robert Alexander Mills listing at the same time George Ramsay Acland Mills began his own new listing?

It's odd: I can't find any other documentation in ancestry.com that a gentleman named George Robert Alexander Mills existed in the United Kingdom. No birth record, no marriage, no death certificate—nothing. The only reference I could squirrel out myself was that single, April 1926 London telephone listing providing his full name.

Peculiar. Very peculiar.

Next time we'll look at some other interesting listings in the London telephone directories between 1925 and 1948 that aren't in doubt and clearly aren't listings for any George Millses at all.

These listings would have had an impact on the life of our George Mills. In two days, I'm leaving for a 10-day holiday in Michigan to spend time with friends and family there.

If you don't hear from me by then, check back around the 14th of July!

Tracking the Life and Travels of Vera Louise Beauclerk Mills, Part 2

When last we peeked in on the life and travels of Vera Louise Mills [née Beauclerk], she had just pledged her troth to George Mills at the altar of the Holy Trinity Church in Brompton on 23 April 1925.

A reception was held at the Hans-crescent Hotel afterwards, after which the couple must have honeymooned and began their lives together. The honeymoon likely didn't take too long as George was likely on holiday from his duties as a schoolmaster.

Mills, then recently of Oxford, had just secured what appears to have been a "junior appointment", a position that was "seldom held for long," at Windlesham House School [its gardens as seen in Portslade, above left]. Despite that, the new couple apparently bought a house near on Benfield Way in Portslade.

George appears to have been very active at Windlesham and quite happy. Not only was he a master there, likely in "English or English subjects," he was involved in extra-curricular activities, especially in the arts of drama and music.

In fact, to say that Mills had been happy there may be understating the reality of the situation. Mills wrote three children's books based on the acquaintances and experiences he accrued at Windlesham, and was still proudly proclaiming his allegiance to the school as late as 1935.

As we know, however, by the end of the Summer Term in 1926, Mills surprisingly disappeared from the faculty list at the school, and Windlesham seems to have recorded no reason why—although they know a remarkable amount about him personally, even today. It has been speculated that Mills was one of the prep school masters at that time who were "excited about the General Strike" that occured during term.

British teachers at the time, according to the book, The General Teaching Council, by John Sayers, were more politically charged—confrontational and involved in unionization—than ever in the 1920s, and Mills could well have been involved. Still, given his family and connections, and those of his new bride, along with his newfound position as household breadwinner, I simply find it hard to believe that Mills would have been willing to chuck a plum job like the one he'd found in Portslade in favor of playing union politics. I find it more likely that the school found he'd lied about having a "B.A. Oxon" but, liking him very well, allowed him to resign rather than being dismissed.

Over the next decade or more, Mills became an itinerant teacher, and given the economic landscape of the Great Depression, he may well have been forced to find work at other positions as well to support his young bride.

Mills lists his teaching stops between 1926 and 1933 as the defunct Warren Hill School [right] in Eastbourne [actually Meads], The Craig School in Windermere, the mysterious English Preparatory School in Glion. Later, in 1938, he will add the surprisingly unknown Eaton Gate Preparatory School in London. How long Mills taught at each institution is simply unknown as these schools have been largely if not completely forgotten by their various communities.

Vera Mills, we can assume, had a mother still residing at 4 Hans-mansion, S.W., for at least the outset of this time period of one dozen years. Would she have traveled with Mills as he moved about?

It's possible George lived in the master's dormitory at Warren Hill, but perhaps not, preferring to reside in Portslade and drive to Eastbourne. From Benfield Way by automobile, he'd likely have to have driven down Old Shoreham Road east, turned south until it met the coastal highway, A259, through Seaford and between Eastbourne Downs and Beachy Head, on into The Meads. The trip would have been over 35 kilometers, one way, each morning to make the school bell and breakfast with the boys.

Given the technological advances of the time, autos were clearly hardy enough to make that journey easily in 1926. However, with a round-trip of 70 km, each day, all week, one wonders if there was such a 'commuter culture' at the time that Mills would have done it. Would Mills really have spent that much time behind the wheel of an automobile to teach?

It's natural to assume, from today's perspective he might've commuted by auto, but it simply seems to me so unlikely. Perhaps he rode the London Brighton and South Coast Railway, traveling from Brighton into Eastbourne daily on the East Coastway Line. Would that have been a better possibility? I suppose it's also possible he'd sold the house and just moved Vera over to Eastbourne, but I'm not sold on that idea either.

Either way, he was subsequently off to Windermere in Cumbria, anyway, and then to Glion, Switzerland, and one wonders for how long those positions were held, and whether or not Vera was in tow in those cases as well.

Vera's family had been certainly not one to worry about whether or not a wife accompanied a breadwinning husband at his out-of-town [or out-of-country] employment. Her grandmother, Hester Hart, as we know, gained a reputation for being "the absentee wife" of Sir Robert Hart in Peking, China, and she consequently almost evaporates from the family record.

Hester left China with two of her children, Bruce and Nollie, in 1881. Except for what were characterized as "rare and brief visits," she never returned to live with Sir Robert [right]. He faithfully corresponded with her until he left China in 1908, and there was one 17 year period during which the husband and wife never met, although Hart "provided generously for her rather luxurious style of life in England."

By 1878, Hester had "established" her children with her mother in Portadown, Ireland, to arrange for and oversee their educations, and then she began "the life of independence and travel that was to be hers over a long lifetime." Hart's London agent in Customs "reported her whereabouts from time to time, but mainly by hearsay."

Sir Robert provided Hester, then Lady Hart, "a house in a good section of London together with a handsome allowance and frequent presents. [She] entertained well and traveled widely."

Vera's mother, Evelyn Amy Hart Beauclerk, had been educated in England and Ireland and apparently came to visit Sir Robert in Peking in 1892, having been between "Aden and Colombo" in March earlier that year, traveling to China with her uncle, James Hart.

While in Peking with her father, "Evey" decided to marry the First Secretary of the British Legation, William Nelthorpe Beauclerk, a British diplomat who was assigned to China, Hungary, Peru, Ecuador, and Bolivia from 1890 through his death in 1908.

Her mother, Hester, did not attend the "Jerusalem style" ceremony in Peking.

After her honeymoon, the soon pregnant Evelyn was in England in early in 1893 when her father posted a letter to his London agent, Campbell, on 18 February to cover the cost of a new maid for "Evey." Where Beauclerk was or why he could not cover the cost is unknown. She would soon return to China, however.

Vera was born on 5 September 1893, and Evelyn left China the very next day! "Evey" would soon return to Peking, as her younger sister, Hilda, would be born there in 1895.

By 1896, however, Beauclerk was assigned to the legation in Hungary, and I find it hard to believe that with an endowed mother in London and a rich father in Peking, that "Evey" would be raising her two infant girls in Hungary. This is especially true since the duties he would encounter in his new eastern European locale were characterized as a "hard card to play—against Russia and France politically, and against Germany (von Brandt) economically."

Evelyn, who had family and economic roots in both the United Kingdom and Peking, may indeed have followed Beauclerk, twenty years her senior, from Asia, to Europe, and on to South America. From her earliest life, though, Evelyn would not have seen a her own father and mother together as husband and wife very often, if at all.

And it's quite likely newlywed Vera Mills had never seen that either. It's hard to imagine Vera sitting alone in Bowness-on-Windermere in distant Cumbria, waiting for Mills to come home from a hard day up at The Craig, especially after she had led a relatively cosmopolitan lifestyle—one that certainly was not in any way limited in its opportunities to socialize and travel.

I can imagine her seeing George in Glion once or twice, but not finding herself by any means chained to an English prep school there. It simply doesn't seem to have been something the women in her family would have ever considered!

In my mind, there's no way Vera was following George around the United Kingdom and Europe, simply in his tow. Her own mother was clearly quite established in a nice part of Kensington in 1925, and her monied grandmother, Hester, wouldn't pass on until 1928 in Bournemouth, Hampshire, at the age of 80. Vera clearly had places to stay and people to spend time with while George pursued his career in the preparatory education of boys!

By 1933, however, the sands had begun to shift.

In that year, George Mills published his first book, Meredith and Co.: The Story of a Modern Preparatory School, with the Oxford University Press. Aspects of it indicate that he'd been back in London for a while.

In the book's preface, Mills thanks a close friend, Mr. H. E. Howell, who has been associated with All Saints Church Margaret Street, just to the northeast of Hans-mansions, past Hyde Park Corner and Grosvenor Square, as well as mentioning a headmaster from a school in Brackley.

He's also had a difficult, perhaps even bitter, time editing the book under the eye of a Mr. E. M. Henshaw, whose name disappears from later editions of the book. It's unkown if Henshaw was employed by the O. U. P., but Mills obviously was obliged to pay attention to his "devastating, but most useful, criticisms"—criticisms he may not have found in a softer editor outside of the hard core of British publishing in London.

George's parents were probably still in Onslow Gardens, at least until the passing of George's father, Barton, in 1932. Mills's brother and sister-in-law, Arthur and Lady Dorothy Mills, also lived just south of there on Ebury Street, at least through their divorce in 1933.

Yes, there certainly were a lot of reasons for Mills to have finally returned to this area by the early 1930s!

There's no reason to think, then, that Vera is not with George at this time, 1933, no matter where she may have been during his nomadic years just before. The questions are: Did they have a place of their own in 1933? Were they living with George's parents in Onslow Gardens? Or might they have been residing with Vera's family? One wonders where George was actually sitting as he was writing the manuscript for Meredith and Co.!

1933 brings us to another interesting piece of paperwork as well: A manifest from a ship called the Dempo from the Royal Rotterdam Lloyd Line that steamed into the harbor in Southampton, England, on 10 April 1933. Aboard were Vera's mother, Evelyn Amy Beauclerk, and sister, Hilda de Vere Beauclerk, ages 64 and 38 respectively, sailing in from Surabaya, Indonesia, on an itinerary that had included stops in Singapore, Belawan, Colombo, Tanger, Port Said, Marseilles, Gibraltar, and Lisbon.

The address of both Mrs. Beauclerk and Hilda is listed on that document as "45 Knightsbridge Court, London SW. 1." That address today would seem to be in the vicinity of Harrod's, premier hotels, fine shopping and dining, the Kuwaiti Embassy, and an awful lot of expensive-looking automobiles. Might it have been a pretty nice area back then as well?

Yes, perhaps I can imagine Vera shopping out on Knightsbridge in April 1933 while George pecks at his typewriter near a window in his mother-in-law's fine home, awaiting the arrival of both "Evey" and Hilda from their voyage to the Far East.

Hilda would very soon marry Canadian Miles Malcolm Acheson [who puzzlingly was not aboard the Dempo, at least not as a passenger, but was employed then by Chinese Maritime Customs] on 21 June 1933, just over two months after their arrival in Southampton. Had she arrived home for just in time for her own wedding, which was held in Canterbury, Kent?

Unfortunately her mother, Evelyn Beauclerk, never attended the affair, having passed away on 10 June 1933, exactly two months after their arrival!

Given the 1928 passing of Vera's grandmother, Hester, the 1932 death of George's father, Barton, with his sister-in-law, Lady Dorothy, still recovering from a horrific car 1929 accident, with his brother Arthur's divorce dragging from 1932 into 1933, which had followed on the heels of the death of Lady Dorothy's own father in New Zealand in 1931, it certainly had to have been a difficult five years for the families of George and Vera, particularly with George seemingly having apparently suffered concurrent employment woes and the world having been embroiled in a Great Depression!

1935, however, found George casually visiting Steyning, and singing the praises of Windlesham House School, while mentioning he'd authored a book based on Windlesham and Warren Hill back in 1933. Was Vera along? Perhaps not. Either way, he was apparently in good spirits that day!

1938 saw George publishing a sequel to Meredith and Co. called King Willow, this time with G. G. Harrap & Co. In the book's dedication, dated June 1938, he mentions that "Eaton Gate Preparatory School" in "London, S.W. 1," where he presumably had been teaching sometime between 1933 and that year. Eaton Gate is in Belgravia, just a stone's toss from "Cadogen Gardens" [where George's sisters will be living by 1935] and presumably less than a half-mile south of where Evelyn Beauclerk had lived at Hans-mansions in 1925, and in Knightsbridge in 1933.

Unfortunately, the school using that particular name has been forgotten completely, although there is another prep school at Eaton Gate today.

In 1939, George published two more books, Minor and Major [the third in his trilogy of tomes based at least partly on beloved characters from his fictional Leadham House School] and St. Thomas of Canterbury, which was published in Burns, Oates & Co.'s "Shilling Series" of children's books.

Surprisingly, at least for me, 1939 also found Mills abandoning any career he might have had as an author and returning to the military as a commissioned officer and paymaster at the outset of Britain's entry into the Second World War on 3 September 1939. Mills, 44, was commissioned on 11 October of the same year and given the rank of Lieutenant.

Not bad for a fellow who, some twenty years before, had checked out of the army after the First World war holding the rank of Lance Corporal!

I had assumed Mills had been assigned to a Royal Army Pay Corps in London or Sussex, but I now believe that I was wrong. I think he must have been assigned to the RAPC in Taunton [right].

His grandfather, Arthur Mills, had been an M.P. from Taunton from 1852-1853 and 1857-1865. The family of George's grandmother, Lady Agnes Lucy Acland Mills, owned a great deal of land in northern Devon and into Somerset. His great-grandfather, Sir Thomas Dyke Acland, had been a lord and power broker over an area of land that ranged from the rocky coast of Cornwall, through Devon, past Exmoor, and on into Taunton throughout the late 19th century.

The Holnicote Estate in Exmoor has been owned and managed by the National Trust since 1944, but it had been a home of the Acland family, along with Killerton in Devon. I'm not suggesting that Mills lived there while he worked for the RAPC, but I suspect he at the very least may have lived nearby.

The death certificate of Vera Louise Mills was filed in Exmoor, Somerset, on 5 January 1942. Holnicote House is a good ways from Taunton, but the Aclands would have had plenty of land around there [pictured is a 1890s cottage in part of the estate called Selworthy Green]. Perhaps George rented one of the estate's 170-some cottages from the Aclands. Perhaps, with a war on and George in the service, he was even given a place to stay with Vera free of charge. Could it even be that Vera stayed on as a guest of the estate itself with George at the barracks? One could easily imagine a cosmopolitan girl like Vera making herself quite at home in such surroundings!

Perhaps, though, George Mills simply had been randomly assigned to Taunton. After all, there wouldn't have been too many places around southern England where he could have landed and you couldn't have made a case that he'd have had some kin nearby, or in a locale that had had something to do with his family's history. Still, he didn't end up in Manchester, Leicester, or York with virtually no connections. He landed in Taunton.

The circumstances of Vera's death are unknown to me. Just 48, she seems to have been so very young to have died. Still, I don't know what caused her passing. Illness? An accident? It's hard to say, just as it's hard to say exactly what effect it might have had on George.

Mills, a man who was known for his humorous stories and for "making people laugh, a lot," presumably had a good relationship with his wife. He obviously had been working well at his desk in the Pay Corps, having been promoted to 2nd Lieutenant in April of 1942.

Yet, on 3 November 1943, Mills relinquished his commission on account of "ill health" and was given the honorary rank of Lieutenant.

Is it a coincidence that Mills took so sick within two years of Vera's death that his health drove him from the armed forces during the middle of a global conflict during which Great Britain literally had its hands full?

Perhaps. But one actually might tend think that George—not coming from a nuclear family in which husbands and wives lived separate lives, and by 1942 finally having the chance to spend quality time together with Vera while he was gainfully and steadily employed—took her death very hard.

[To read Part 1, click HERE.]

Flat for Sale in Efford Down House, Bude, Cornwall - 2 Bedrooms, 1 Reception Room, 2 Bathrooms

It will be another scorcher here in Ocala, Florida, with the temperature scheduled to tickle 100°F yet again today. Let's just say it's been warming up nicely around here, and it will be a great day to sit in our cool, air conditioned living room and watch the United States play England in the first round of the World Cup in South Africa. For weeks now, we repeatedly have seen that the cover of The Sun regarding the draw on television in anticipation of today's match…

Looking at yesterday's entry, I couldn't help but feel a bit like a real estate agent running from address to address. With that in mind, let's look at an actual listing for flats in Bude, Cornwall, at the former home of George Mills's grandfather, Arthur Mills!

Here's the text from the internet listing [pictured, right]:

Efford Down House was constructed in the early nineteenth century. It was the private residence for Agnes Acland and her husband Arthur Mills MP. Her father Sir Thomas Acland had given the land to Agnes as a wedding gift, Arthur Mills was the member of Parliament for Taunton and later Exeter and was a leading figure in the Bude community. The house later became a hotel. In 1989 Efford Down House was tastefully converted into individual luxury apartments offering superb accommodation in one of the most enviable positions in Bude. In all this 2 bedroom apartment would be considered ideally suitable for holiday use or retirement and early viewing is recommended to avoid disappointment. The accommodation briefly comprises entrance hall, lounge/dining room, kitchen two bedrooms with en-suite to master and separate shower room, further complimented by gas fired central heating and UPVC double glazing.

Room Dimensions

Entrance Hall

Sitting/Dining Room 14'4 x 12'6

Kitchen 11'4 x 6'7

Master Bedroom 10'11 x 9'6

En-Suite Bathroom 6'11 x 5'10

Bedroom 2 10'3 x 8'1 plus door recess

Shower Room 7' x 5'2

Outside Services

Lady Agnes Lucy Acland Mills [presumably in the carriage, left, being driven by husband Arthur] had passed away on 23 May 1895, never living to see the births of grandchildren Agnes [her namesake, born just 19 days after her death], George [1896], or Violet Mills [1902]. The executor was Reginald Brodie Dyke Acland, barrister, not Arthur Mills. My hunch, then, is that the Efford Down House did not go to Arthur after her demise.

Arthur himself passed away on 12 October 1898 leaving an estate probated at £42 035 to Reginald Brodie Dyke Acland, barrister, Theodore Dyke Acland, MD, the Rev. Barton Reginald Vaughan Mills, and Dudley Acland Mills, major in the Royal Engineers.

Even adjusting in my mind for inflation, cost of living, etc., I just can't see how that £42 035 included the property and home at Efford Down [pictured in the 1890s, below, at right, and today, below, at left]] , as well as Arthur's colonial properties, flat in London, and various other holdings.

Soon after Arthur's demise, Rev. Barton Mills left the vicarage at Bude for the Chapel Royal at the Savoy in London in 1901. It is presumable that he had some of that £42 035 in his pocket, possibly up to ¼ of it, and perhaps more, depending on how barrister-proof was Arthur's will on behalf of his sons Barton and Dudley.

The Mills family, as we know, ended up in London in 1901, and that he'd already conducted a service at the Chapel Royal by that time: The year of 1901 marked the passing of Queen Victoria on 22 January. Barton R. V. Mills preached his first sermon at the Chapel Royal on 2 February 1901 at the Festival of the Purification, Memorial Service on the day and at the hour of the Funeral at Windsor of Queen Victoria. Records show that the preachers on that day were "T E Franklyn, Assistant Chaplain, and Barton R V Mills, Vicar of Bude Haven, Cornwall."

It's unclear whether he'd been invited to participate, and as a result ended up in the employ of the Savoy, or if it was already accepted that he'd soon become a cleric there. He'd apparently also preached Ash Wednesday and Good Friday services in the Chapel Royal before he was officially listed as an assistant chaplain on the 25th Sunday after Trinity, 24 November 1901.

Nonetheless, the family of the Reverend Barton had been residing at 13 Brechin Place in London by the evening of the 31 March 1901 census. Had he come to town knowing he had a job at the Savoy waiting, or because he needed to find work and London seemed the place to find it?

I've always assumed that Barton left the vicarage at Bude of his own accord, but the vicarage itself was endowed by the Acland family. Perhaps I've been mistaken. Is it possible he actually had been removed from his post in Bude Haven in favor of a new vicar who was a closer relative of the Aclands, or at least someone held in higher esteem at the time? After all, he'd seen a long-time vicar of Poughill unceremoniously thrown over in favor of him in the recent past. Might the connections of the powerful Aclands have arranged for his position at the Savoy, or at least been a foot in the door? Had he, his wife, and his children, been disenfranchised since his most direct living benefactors had all passed away by the outset of the 20th century? One wonders.

I have to doubt that much, if any, of the value of the property and manor at Efford Down went to London with Reverend Barton, or covered his moving expenses.

You, however, have an opportunity he likely never had: To own a piece of Mills family history in Bude!

For just £245,000, you could own a two-bedroom flat [sitting/dining or "reception" room pictured, right] in the manor at Efford Down! Just call 0843 315 1302.

£245000 for two bedrooms and two baths: It's enough to make a wealthy fellow like Arthur Mills believe that he was born by far in the wrong century!

I invite any thoughts, information, or speculation you might have into wills, probate, inheritance, or property you may have regarding the late 19th century.

That said, enjoy England vs. the U.S.—it should be a good one!