Dr. Harold J. Penny of Adelaide and Stoke-on-Trent

Today we'll meet a person who numbered among the most common opponents of the Mills family: Dr. H. J. Penny. Penny presents a figure with an interesting history, especially when one includes him among the diverse mix of post-WWII croquet characters and personalities with which we've become acquainted here at Who Is George Mills?

Harold John Penny was born on 24 June 1888 to Charles James Penny and Emma Stephens Penny in Semaphore, Adelaide, South Australia [upper left]. Of his family or youth we know little to nothing, but in the Adelaide Advertiser of Tuesday, 22 December 1903, we find that Penny (out of St. Peter's Collegiate School) —then 15 years of age—had passed Junior Examinations at "The University." Penny had passed exams in English Literature, Greek, Latin, French, geometry, and chemistry, earning him a place on the "List of students who have passed five or more subjects, and who therefore, receive the junior certificate."

In the same newspaper two years later, on Monday, 18 December 1905, Penny passed three Senior Examinations at the University of Adelaide: Greek, Latin, and geometry. Five passed examinations were required for earning a senior certificate, so Penny's name appeared on a list below that one: "List of candidates who have passed in less than five subjects."


In 1906, Penny also passed five examinations, according to the Tuesday, 25 December, edition of The Advertiser: Greek, Latin, French, arithmetic and algebra, and geometry. He received a 1906 senior certificate.

In the same chronicle, on Thursday, 19 December 1907, Penny appears on a "Pass List" of the University of Adelaide, once more having passed examinations in Greek, Latin, and French.

At this point, Penny, who apparently has enjoyed years of schooling in languages and maths, seems to have left it all for a spell.


He crops up again in 1911. According to data recorded at http://www.rowinghistory-aus.info/, Penny rowed in the Adelaide University Men's Eight, which competed at the 1911 Australian University Championships in Port River, Adelaide. His team finished 3rd behind Melbourne and Sydney Universities.

According to that site: "This was the first of four straight wins pre WWI for Melbourne but the margin was small - 1 1/2 lengths from Sydney. The race was conducted over a 3 mile course on 10th June 1911."

Penny rowed for Adelaide again in the 1912 Championship held in the Parramatta River, Sydney, and once again his team finished 3rd behind Melbourne and Sydney. The site this time adds: "The race was conducted on 1st June 1912."

Penny was clearly back at Adelaide, but studying what subject in earnest?

The Advertiser dated Thursday, 18 December 1913, carried this information about the 25-year-old Australian: "The Dean of the Faculty of Medicine presented for the degrees of Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery:-Walter John Westcott Close, Laurance Llewellin Davey, Sydney Ernest Holder, Frederick Neill Le Messurier, Reginald Blockley Lucas, John Christian Mayo, Harry Carew Nott, Harold John Penny, Harold Powell, and Joseph Stanley Verco (Everard Scholar)."


The next day, Friday, 19 December 1913, the same newspaper ran this item [seen, left]: "At a meeting of the South Australian Medical Board on Monday , afternoon Walter John Westcott Close, Sydncy Ernest Holder, Frederick Neil LeMessurier, Reginald Blockley Lucas, John Christian Mayo, Harry Carew Nott, Harold John Penny, Harold Powell, .Joseph Stanley Verco, and Laurance Lewellin Davey, all M.B., B.S., Adelaide, 1913; and James McBain Ross, M.R.C.S., Eng., L.R.C.P. Lond., 1901, were registered as legally qualified medical practitioners."


By 10 January 1914, we find this note in a column entitled "Personal" within the Adelaide Advertiser: "Dr. Harold John Penny, M.B., B.S., (Adel. 1913), was appointed by the Executive Council to be a resident medical officer of the Adelaide Hospital for the ensuing 12 months."


By 12 March 1914, Penny made the papers in a case in which the master of a four-masted barque, Hougemont, John McDonald, was accused of "having on 18 February unlawfully and maliciously shot at [inebriated able seaman] John Murray with a revolver, with intent to do grievous bodily harm."

The article continued: "Harold John Penny, resident medical officer at the Adelaide Hospital, said he treated Murray in the institution on February 19."

The case was held over for trial, while Penny must have had some interesting dinner table conversation that day.


According to The Advertiser, dated Tuesday, 21 April 1914, Penny took part in an inquest into the death of a 38-year-old laborer, Joseph Eade, who had died at the hospital on 16 April: "Dr. Harold John Penny, of the Adelaide Hospital attributed the cause of death to shock and hemorrhage, consequent upon bullet wounds. These were just below the ribs on the left side of the body. The internal organs in this vicinity were injured. The deceased had told the witness that he used a firearm with his right hand… The Coroner's verdict was that deceased died from bullet wounds self-inflicted whilst of unsound mind."


Yet another case, this one described in the same paper on Saturday 27 February 1915, actually involving the will, estate, and beneficiarfies of Catherine Ratliffe of Australia Plain, cited: "Harold John Penny, medical practitioner at the Children's Hospital, said that on January 21 he was a resident medical officer at the Adelaide Hospital. He recollected the informant being brought in. She was suffering from shock and hemorrhage, caused by three recent bullet wounds in the right shoulder, two cuts on the lip, and a bruise near the collarbone. He attended to the patient for 10 days until she left the hospital. The wounds could be caused by bullets from a revolver of the kind produced."


Perhaps it was the violence of such cases that caused Penny to look into a shift to the local Children's Hospital [picturd, left].

And treating those victims of gunshot wounds would foreshadow the next phase of Penny's medical career.

We now fast-forward to the London Gazette of 1 June 1915 for the item regarding Penny. In a section entitled "ARMY MEDICAL SERVICE. Royal Army Medical Corps." it says: "The undermentioned to be temporary Lieutenants:— Dated 26th March 1915. Harold John Penny, M.B."


That notice confirmed what had appeared in the Adelaide Advertiser on Saturday 20 March 1915, several months after Great Britain had entered hostilities in the First World War: "Dr. Harold J. Penny, late of the Adelaide and Children's Hospitals, and youngest son of Mr. C. J. Penny, Hackney, has been notified of his appointment to the staff of the R.A.M.C., and leaves by the R.M.S. Mongolia [seen below, right] on Thursday next for London."


The Gazette followed with this in their 10 April 1916 edition, in a similar section: "ARMY MEDICAL SERVICE. Royal Army Medical Corps." It reads: "The undermentioned temporary Lieutenents to be temporary Captains:— Dated 26th March 1916. Harold J. Perry, M.B."


In exactly one year, Penny had entered the service and been promoted to Captain. Under unprecedented and nightmarish conditions, Penny was obviously excelling.


Following the war, the Medical Directory of 1919 listed Penny's practice as having been in his hometown at "23, Osborne Street, Hackney, Adelaide, S.A." Penny have returned to Australia and hung out a shingle after witnessing the carnage of the war. Considering the chemical warfare, as well as the technological advances made in the efficient mechanized destruction of soldiers, during the worldwide conflict, one shudders to think of some of the horrors he witnessed—ones that would have made those gunshot simple gunshot wounds treated in Adelaide seem extremely mild by comparison.

But records at Britain's National Archives at Kew contain the following record: "Divorce Court File: 8145. Appellant: Harold John Penny. Respondent: Winifred Annie Penny. Co-respondent: Frederick Haddon Rowat. Type: Husband's petition for divorce. Covering dates: 1925."


This would indicate that, at some point between 1919 and 1925, Penny relocated once again, this time to back to England.

F. H. Rowat was a dentist. His description in the 1960 edition of The Author's & Writer's Who's Who reads: "ROWAT, Frederick Haddon, FDS, HDD, LDS b: India 1894. e: Merchant Venturers Sch. Bristol, m: Munro-Chick. d: 2. Dentist, publ.: This Won't Hurt a Bit (J. Wright); The Palmy Days of British Oratory (Ceylon Times), a: Braeside, North Petherton, Somerset."


Penny's wife was probably born in Australia in the late 19th century, but there is no dearth of "Winifred Annies" having been born in South Australia during that period. Her maiden name is unknown. Neither records from the UK nor Australia record their marriage. In fact, ancestry.com has no record of the Penny union in any of its collections.

In 1938, at the age of 50, Dr. Penny sailed into Southampton aboard the steam ship Balmoral Castle of the Union-Castle Line on 19 September from Madeira. His address is handwritten as "28 Windmill St., Tunstall, Stoke/Trent."


This address is corroborated by a 1950 Stoke-on-Trent telephone directory, which lists his practice—clearly a partnership—in this way:

Penny, H. J, & Fee, S. R, Physns, Srgns,
      28 Windmill St, Tunstall . . . . . . Stoke-on-Trent 87642

His residence is listed as:

Penny, Dr. H. J,
      Claremont Porthill . . . . . . . . . . . Stoke-on-Trent 88180


The Medical Directory of 1961, however, lists the practice as being called "Penny, Fee, Wojtulewski, & Neill."


Notable on the manifest of Dr. Penny's return trip from Madeira is the lack of a wife, or even of a travelling companion. He was the only unaccompanied male from Britain or its colonies on the voyage. This trip alone may say a great deal about the pain from which Penny still must have suffered due to the betrayal committed by his wife and their divorce proceedings some 13 years earlier.

In the Medical Directory for 1959, Commonwealth List, Penny is listed as practicing at "28, Holland Street, Tunstall, Staffs," and it indicates his "Date of Registration" as having been 3 May 1915—coincidental with his arrival for service in the Royal Army Medical Corps.


Penny began playing tournament croquet, just before his trip to Spain, having competed in the North of England from 27 June to 2 July 1938. He also played that tournament in 1939, as well as in the Derbyshire Championship and for Hurlingham's Younger Cup, in which he beat Aimee Reckitt.

After the war, Penny—58 years of age in the summer of 1946—returned to the lawns. His career post-war record can be found in the database of the Croquet Association by clicking HERE.

Although the CA records Penny as an opponent of the Mills siblings—George, Agnes, and Violet—just 3 times (1-2 versus Agnes Mills), results from the London Times provide some evidence that—aside from doubles games which included George Mills—Penny played Violet Mills at least 3 times. He lost to her in 1960 (Parkstone) and twice (Budleigh Salterton). In fact, there is no evidence Penny ever beat Vi Mills.

Six career games against the Mills siblings may not seem like a great deal, but it does make him one of their arch enemies here—especially figuring in his appearances as a doubles partner and opponent of one or the other of the sibs.

The Times also records the Mills siblings as having encountered a C. H. R. Penny during their time playing croquet, although I also cannot locate him in the database. The Pennys played doubles together at least once, on 15 September 1960 at Parkstone, where they lost to the tandem of George Mills and Bryan Lloyd-Pratt [pictured, left], (-13).

A 1960 telephone directory for Southampton lists a C. H. R. Penny as residing at Chaffyn Grove Cottage, 75 Bourne Avenue, with telephone number "Salisbury 2905."


[Update: This was received today, 6 July 2011, from Mr. Williams of the CA:

CHR (Christopher) Penny is in the 1946-1984 database. Search for Christopher Penny. I have 14 games for him between 1957 and 1963.

Chris

For career information on Christopher H. R. Penny, click HERE, and thank you, Chris!

The database records no games against them, but C. H. R. Penny played singlely against the Mills at least once: He defeated Violet Mills in the Level Singles Final at Parkstone in 1960, according to The Times.]


Were the two Pennys related, they would have played even more matches as a family against the Mills family—hence, their inclusion here.

A member of what we recently saw referred to as "Croquet's Old Brigade," Dr. H. J. Penny died in Bournemouth, Dorset, England in March 1968. As far as we know, he never remarried. Penny played croquet from 1938 through 1967, winning 232 of 513 post-war games.

Steyning Mansions Hotel, Eastern Terrace, Brighton

We know a great deal about the life of Lady Dorothy Mills (née Walpole), and still more information is coming to light regarding her penchant for globetrotting.

Our last 'contact' with Lady Dorothy, however, came as a telephone listing in a 1939 London directory years after her ostensible retirement and divorce from author Arthur F. H. Mills, brother of George Mills: Mills Lady Dorothy, 17 Burnsall st S.W.3 FLAxman. 2476.

More than one source describes Lady D. as living in Brighton at the time of her death in 1959, including records at ancestry.com. Where in Brighton, though, I couldn't determine.

Yesterday, I found the manifest of the twin-screw ship Alcantara [right] of the Royal Mail Lines that arrived in Southampton on 21 January 1952, steaming in from "Brasil and the River Plate." Aboard was a "MILLS, Dorothy R. M."—our own Dorothy Rachel Melissa Mills—and English author, aged 62 years.

The typewritten address given is "Steyning Mansions Hotel, Eastern Terrace, Brighton." [Pictured in 1950, top left]

A quick internet search turns up only one mention of Steyning Mansions Hotel in the National Archives:

"BRIGHTON BOROUGH PETTY SESSIONAL DIVISION

LICENSING PLANS PTS/2/9 1909-54

Steyning Mansions, Kemp Town Client; Steyning Mansions Hotel Syndicate PTS/2/9/804 23.4.47, 3.3.48"

There's more, however, to be found in Google Books.

Here's an advertisement found in The New Statesman and Nation, Volume 8, issue 355, dated February 7, 1948:

STEYNING Mansions Hotel, Brighton. Kings Cliff. Sea front near bathing pool. Unique comfort and excellent cuisine. Every room has own private bathroom "en suite," G.P.O., phone, wireless and elec. fire. Lift. Garage. Fully licensed. Brochure... Tel. 2589.

And here's an almost identical entry from The Spectator, volume 80, 1948:

BRIGHTON. Kings Cliff. STEYNING MANSIONS. Unique comfort and excellent cuisine. Sea Front. Every room has own private bathroom "en suite," G.P.O. Telephone, wireless, and electric fire. Lift. Garage... Tel. 2589.

Nothing anywhere mentions Mills being a resident. However, we do know a smattering about a few of her neighbors, at least around the time Lady Dorothy likely moved to seaside Steyning Mansions [A view from a flat today is pictured, left] , circa 1939.

We know that in 1939, Steyning Mansions housed a "Miss Parry" of the British Orthoptic Society, according to Volume 1 of the British Orthoptoic Journal of that same year.

Another resident just before WWII was Georgette Heyer (16 August 1902 – 4 July 1974), an English Regency romance and detective fiction novelist, who'd moved "briefly to a flat in Steyning Mansions, Brighton, and then to a service flat at 25 Adelaide Crescent, Hove", with her unemployed husband (according to biographer Jane Aiken Hodge in The Private World of Georgette Heyer; Bodley Head, 1984). Heyer had recently lived in Macedonia, and one wonders if Lady Dorothy might have taken a fancy to the fellow traveller, author, and breadwinning woman.

Heyer was renowned during her career for rejecting her publishers' requests to do interviews to propote her books, saying, "My private life concerns no one but myself and my family," a sentiment that must have been echoed by Lady Dorothy, whose so-called autobiography contains precious little about her own private life.

Steyning Mansions is also advertised in the periodical The English-speaking World (vol. 40-42) in 1958:

BRIGHTON. Marine Parade, Steyning Mansions Hotel PRIVATE BATH and telephone to every bedroom. Licensed. TV. Winter from 9 gns., Summer from 10½ gns. Tel. 26461-2-3.

When did the Steyning Mansions Hotel Syndicate start operating the hotel? When did the hotel cease operation? We do know it was at least in business from 1939 through 1958.

It wasn't the only hotel on the block: Unit No.1 on Eastern Terrace became the Court Royal Hotel in 1914 and was converted into Court Royal Mansions around 1955 [The time is pictured in the photograph, circa 1955, right].

Among other units on Eastern Terrace, numbers 4, 5, 7, 8, and 9 are now owned and maintained by Brighton Polytechnic as Halls of Residence. Others contain flats that range from over a half million pounds down to a basement flat going for roughly £250,000—quite a change from back in 1958, when a winter in likely that same subterranean locale started at just 9 guineas a week!

Yes, Eastern Terrace has changed a bit since Lady Dorothy Mills called the area home in the mid-20th century.

If you have any information about Lady Dorothy, Steyning Mansions Hotel, or the Eastern Terrace, Brighton, of that era, please don't hesitate to contact me... and thank you!

Arthur Hobart Mills: A Whole New Life with a Whole New Wife

Sometimes, as I'm working on this project, I find something new. Other times, I find something surprising! That happened to me yesterday when I stumbled upon this: A 1968 telephone directory listing for "Mrs. A. Hobart Mills."

That came as a surprise for a few reasons. Arthur Frederick Hobart Mills, half-brother of George Mills, apparently used the name Arthur Hobart Mills, and even occasionally simply Arthur Hobart, as an author of novels and magazine articles. For example, this is from ebay.com:

Product Category : Books

Title : Escapade

Authors : Arthur Hobart Mills

Publication Date : 1931

Condition : Very Good

A quick dash shows that a search for "Arthur Hobart Mills" using the admittedly crappy engine at ancestry.com either turns up our own Arthur F. H. Mills or unrelated junk. He's the only "Hobart" among the Arthur Millses.

Much of what we know about Arthur's life has already been published here, taking us through his divorce from Lady Dorothy Mills [née Walpole] due to infidelity with a Miss Jasmine Webster. The divorce petition was filed in 1932 and notice of the divorce decree ran in the London Times on 24 March 1933.

Lady Dorothy had suffered a nervous breakdown in 1932, and I'm certain most folks assumed it had much to do with her recovery from a horrific traffic accident in 1929 and her all-too-ambitious travel to Venezuela and the Middle East soon after. One wonders if the breakdown was, at least in part, a result of discovering Arthur's adultery.

Arthur and Lady Dorothy had lived separate but equal lives throughout at least the last decade of their marriage. They traveled independently of one another, celebrated Christmases away from one another, and essentially seemed to have lived parallel lives. It wouldn't be the world's biggest shock to realize that they'd drifted far apart.

London telephone directories indicate that Arthur and Dorothy Mills first had a telephone in 1917. The listing read: "Victoria .. 3292 Mills, A. H., Capt. .. .. .. .. 131 Ebury st S.W."

In 1920, they move to anearby residence and the listing changes to: "Victoria 2285 .. Mills Arthur .. .. .. .. .. 91A Ebury st S.W.1."

In 1922, the listing changes Arthur's name to "Mills, Capt. Arthur H." That stays the same until the September 1929 directory, when only the telephone number changes: "SLOane 6986."

The 1930 London book, however, adds something interesting. There's an additional entry at that number: "Mills Lady Dorothy, 91A Ebury st S.W.1 . SLOane .. 6986." The same number, just an entry for herself.

It stayed that way through the November 1932 directory, but in the subsequent May 1933 London book, the listing for Capt. Arthur H. Mills at 91A Ebury Street is gone. The listing for his ex-wife was changed to "Mills Lady Dorothy, 17 Burnsall st S.W.3 FLAxman. 2476." That listing, after their divorce, remains in place until 1939.

[Note: I can't find a telephone directory for 1940, likely due to the war, but in the 1941 London directory, Lady Dorothy's Burnsall Street listing is gone. After that, although I know that she moved to Sussex and ended her days in Brighton, I can no longer verify any telephone listing as being hers through her passing in 1959.]

It's a crapshoot knowing exactly where and when ex-husband Arthur went for the next two decades. There's a relatively immediate 1933 directory listing for him in Hurstpierpoint, Hassocks, just 5 miles south of Cuckfield: "Mills Arthur, Stables cottage ……… Hurstpierpoint 188." A 1942 listing remains the same, save for the actual telephone number having been changed to "2188." The listing would make complete sense because, as an avid golfer, Mills would have been close to the Hassocks Golf Club [seen in the map, left]. In 1943, however, that listing was gone.

Finding a future wife for Arthur had me checking other for records of that apparent second marriage, and I found one of the most peculiar entries I've ever seen in British record-keeping!

Sometime in late 1933 [October-December], an Arthur F. H. Mills married a woman named either "Wilson" or "Wilks" in Cuckfield. That's actually what is recorded [below, right]: "Wilson or Wilks."

I looked up Wilks and found that "Monica C. G. Wilks" married a man named "Mills" in Cuckfield during that time frame.

However, I also found a record showing that "Monica C. G. Wilson" married a man named "Mills" during that same period in Cuckfield.

I thought to myself, "Let's check more records!" We know that Arthur Mills died while living at Winds Cottage, Downton, near Lymington, Hampshire. Today, that's actually listed on Google Maps as being in "New Forest." The result of a quick records search turned up a death in New Forest between July and September in 1981: "MONICA CECIL G MILLS" who had been born on 07 JE 1902 [where JE apparently stands for "June"'.

Arthur Mills did, in fact, take a second wife! And, with a marriage in 1933, Monica would have been 29 years old to Arthur's 46 at the time of their nuptials—something that must have chafed Lady Dorothy as she pined over her own lost youth, looks, and health.

Finding Monica Wilks or Wilson's own birth record wasn't quite satisfying. It states that Monica Cecil G. Wilks was born in Ecclesall Bierlow [apparently once part of Sherwood Forest] somewhere between July and August 1902. The name simply would be too coincidental to be an accident, so I must assume they've recorded her birth date incorrectly on either her birth or death record—but who knows which?

Arthur's own death record has him passing on in 1955, at the age of 67, in "New Forest" as well.

Finding records for Monica is quite problematic. I can only find one other, and that's a listing from a 1946 telephone directory for Hampshire, Devon, Somerset, Gloucester, Glamorgan, and Wales. The listing reads: "Mills Mrs. Monica C. G, Lower Mundey's ct ………….. Long Sutton 79." There is no listing for an Arthur Mills in the same directory.

This jumps Arthur and Monica a good ways to the west since that Hurstpierpoint listing in 1942, almost to Taunton, and adds a telephone listing in his wife's name, rather than his own. Is Arthur Mills with her? The Long Sutton Golf Club [left] is nearly as big as the rest of Long Sutton itself. Avid golfer Mills is there, for sure.

It's curious why Arthur would have no phone listing from 1942 through 1945, and then suddenly crop up under his wife's name in Long Sutton. Perhaps coincidentally, between the 1940 publication of his novel White Negro and 1947's Don't Touch the Body, I can't find any evidence of Arthur having published a single word—anywhwere.

Arthur had, indeed, returned to the military on the second of September 1939. Perhaps he'd been recalled, perhaps he'd volunteered. It was odd because Mills left the service as a captain and a war hero, but returned as a second lieutenant. Mo matter, he relinquished his commission just 8 days later on 10 September.

Did something happen to Mills during those 8 days? Did it affect his health and/or his ability to write? It's quite possible that White Negro had almost all been written in 1939 with anticipation of it being published in 1940, and it may really only have needed editing of the manuscript or proofs.


What prompted the move to Long Sutton, one that was apparently short-lived? By 1948, there'a listing for a "Mrs. Arthur Mills" on "Holmwood Farm, Hordle" with a phone number of New Milton 443. This listing seems to reappear just after the publication of Don't Touch the Body. It remains as-is through 1949.

In 1950, the listing changes to "Mills Mrs. Arthur, Mead End ho …………. Sway 239," apparently near Sway, east of the New Forest National Park. Mead End House is pictured, right. What's peculiar about this location is the lack of an 18-hole golf course for miles in any direction—but what a fine, large abode!

In 1951, the blurb from the dust jacket of his crime novel Last Seen Alive read: "Arthur Mills is the son of the Rev. Barton Mills and Lady Catherine Mills. He was educated at Wellington and Sandhurst and was gazetted into the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry in 1908. He has served in China, France, and Palestine. Mr. Mills is at present living in Hampshire where his main recreations are golf and gardening. In addition to books of short stories he has published over twenty novels."

By 1954, the listing changes to "Mills Mrs. Arthur, Winds cottage Hordle la Downton …….. Milford-on-sea 88." That was likely the last telephone listing he'd see. Arthur passed away on 18 February 1955 in an area that today has at least 10 golf courses within a 10 km radius of Winds Cottage, including two on the Isle of Wight, where Mills had convalesced at Freshwater from the wound he suffered at Aisne during the First World War.

That listing stayed in place until 1958, then disppears until it resumes in 1967 reading: "Mills Mrs. A. Hobart, Winds cott Downton la Downton … Milford-o-s 2744." Apparently that part of Hordle Lane had beenrenamed Downton Lane. That listing stayed there until 1972, but disappeared from the 1973 directory.

Then, in the April 1976 directory [right], the listing returned again, same address, same phone number. It remained there in 1977, but in 1978 it disappeared for good. Was it once again simply taken out of the book? Had Monica moved to a nursing home at the age of 76, or in with one of her children? The latter suggestion assumes Arthur and Monica had children—issue we thought had not occurred on this branch of the family tree.

It appears that Capt. Arthur F. H. Mills, DCLI, did, indeed, remarry in 1933. He passed away in 1955. His wife, Monica, left us in 1981.

The London Gazette in 1955 published this information:

Name of Deceased (Surname First)

MILLS, Arthur Frederick Hobart

Address, description and date of death of Deceased

Winds Cottage, Downton, near Lymington, Hampshire, formerly of Stable Cottage, Hurst Wickham, Hassocks, Sussex, Captain H.M. Army (Retired), 18th February, 1955

Names, addresses, and descriptions of Persons to whom notices of claims are to be given and names, in parentheses, of Personal Representatives

Hunters, 9, New Square, Lincoln's Inn, London, W.C.2, solicitors. (Hugh Murchison Clowes)

Date on or before which notices of claim to be given

8th September, 1955 (283)

No mention of a wife or heirs: All business. There was no obituary in the London Times, although he was mentioned in Lady Dorothy's scant, well-hidden obit in the 8 December 1959 Times that read: "Obituary LADY DOROTHY RACHEL MELISSA MILLS, elder daughter of the fifth and last Earl of Orford, died on Friday at Brighton. She married in 1916 Captain Arthur Hobart Mills, from whom she obtained a divorce in 1933 and who died in 1955."

I supposed that served as Arthur Hobart's belated Times obituary as well.

Did Arthur and Monica Mills actually have children? Right now, I'm uncertain, one way or the other. Children could be significant: They might hold family mementos, photos, souvenirs, memorabilia, and other ephemera that I have been assuming ended up at best being sold in lots at an estate sale in Budleigh Salterton in 1975 when the Misses Mills, Agnes and Violet, passed away there. At worst, I feared it may have all ended up in a dumpster.

This is a lot of new information, but at as always, if it triggers any thoughts, ideas, or informed speculation, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Some Questions for a Sunday Morning in May...

Right now, my side project is working on researching the life and myriad of accomplishments of Col. Dudley Acland Mills [pictured, left, as a youth in the 1860s] and his family. In trying to gain insight into Col. Mills, I hope to find helpful connections to the family of his brother, Rev. Barton R. V. Mills. I can't even begin to tell you how exciting for me it would be to gather more information that would be useful in fleshing out the lives of Mills family members of our interest here!

Right now, I'm still creating a "Dudley Mills Time Line and Genealogy" that will enable me to order his life story and family, and help generate research questions for me to pursue. Meanwhile, here are some questions about the Mills family that remain unanswered. Perhaps we may soon be able to shed some light on them:


Arthur Mills, M.P.:

What happened to any letters, papers, family photgraphs, etc., of Arthur Mills after his death? Were they given to the British Library, a university, or are they somewhere?

What kind of man was he known to be? The only reference I can find to him personally is extremely scathing, but his friends included J. S. Mill and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.


Barton Reginald Vaughan Mills:

Under what circumstances did Barton's first wife, Lady Catherine Hobart-Hampden, pass away? Why did Barton leave his vicarage upon her death and live with his father for three years?

Why did he and his young family (children aged 14, 5, and 2) leave Cornwall and a secure rectory on Bude for London to become assistant chaplain of the Chapel Royal (Queen's Chapel) of the Savoy? And why did he leave there in 1908?

Is there any reason that Barton Mills would have been quickly and almost forgotten by the Ramsay side of the family, the kin of his wife, Elizabeth Edith Ramsay? Why was she forgotten as well?

When did Edith pass away, under what circumstances, and how did it impact the children?

How long did the family live at 7 Manson Place, London, after the 1920 death of Sir George Dalhousie Ramsay, with whom they resided? When did they move there?

What kind of man was Barton Mills? What was Edith like? What were they like as a couple and as parents?

How was Barton making a living after he left the Savoy in 1908?

Did he leave any letters, papers, research, or memorabilia behind? Are there any photographs of him or his family?



Arthur Frederick Hobart Mills [Barton's elder son];

Concerning Lady Catherine's death, how did his mother's passing affect young Arthur, as a youngster and as a man?

Was Arthur close to his family, as a youth, as a young man, and later in life?

What sort of fellow was Arthur? What was his relationship with his father? His stepmother?

What was Arthur's wedding to Lady Dorthy Walpole like? Was the wedding ring really made from the bullet that was removed from his ankle in the First World War?

What were the circumstances of Lady Dorothy's car accident returning from Ascot, and what was the reaction of the Mills family? Did they help care for her?

Did Arthur end up living in Hampshire because he had relatives there?

How did Arthur's marriage to Lady Dorothy affect him and the family? Was she close to the Mills family?

Did Arthur's profession—crime, adventure, and romance writer—bother his family at all?

At age 52, Arthur joined the war effort for 8 days in 1939, then relinquished his commission. Under what circumstances did he leave the military (health, age, etc.)?

Why did Arthur fail to write a book from 1940 to 1947 anfter writing at least one book per year from 1920 to 1940 (health, the war, etc.)?

I hate to ask, but what were the circumstances of his divorce in 1932-33?

To whom did the copyrights to his books go?



George Ramsay Acland Mills:

What sort of fellow was George? What was his relationship with Barton?

What was his relationship with his sisters?

Was there any special interest put into George's schooling?

Under what circumstances did George become a schoolmaster?

Is there any reason George moved from school to school—even to Switzerland to teach—during the late 1920s and early 1930s? Did Vera go with him to every locale?

Under what circumstances did he meet his wife, Vera Louise Beauclerk, who had been born in China?

How posh was his wedding and reception?

What were George and Vera like as a couple?

Was George involved in the General Strike in 1926?

What was George's reaction to his father's passing in 1932?

What was the family's reaction to the publication of his first book, Meredith and Co., in 1933?

What was George doing between 1933 and 1938, the years between his first and second books?

Why, suddenly, did George publish three books in two years (King Willow, Minor and Major, St. Thomas of Canterbury)? Why did he then never again publish a book?

What were the circumstances of him returning to the armed forces in 1940 as a paymaster?

What were the circumstances of Vera's death in 1942? What was George's reaction to it?

Under what circumstances did George leave the armed forces due to "ill health" in 1942? Did this have anything to do with the passing of Vera?

Where was George during the war, and where did he live and what did he do from 1943 through his arrival at "Grey Friars, Budleigh Salterton, Devon," where he presumably passed away?

How did he come to work at Ladycross Catholic Boys' Preparatory School in Seaford, Sussex, for a term in 1956? Did he live nearby?

Did he live with or near Agnes and Violet Mills in Devon?

What were the circumstances of his death in 1972?

To whom did the copyrights to his books go?



Agnes and Violet Mills:

What sort of girls were they? Were they devoted to their mother? Their father? Both?

Had they opportunities to marry? What was it like for young women, daughters of a clergyman, in London during the years between the World Wars?

Where were they schooled?

How were they involved in the Girl Guides?

In 1938, they were living in "Cadogen Gardens, S.W." London with "Barbara Mills". When did they relocate there? Who is Barbara Mills?

In 1947, they donate the papers of the late Sir George Dalhousie Ramsay, their grandfather, to the British Library. Under what circumstances was this made, and where were the girls living when they made the donation?

When did the girls move to Devon? Did they live with George or nearby? What was their relationship with him as youths and as they aged?

What were the circumstances of their passing in Devon in 1977?

What happened to any papers, letters, memorabilia, ephemera, and/or family photographs they may have been holding?

If they held any family copyrights (Barton, Arthur F. H., George) to whom did those rights go after the death of Agnes and Violet?


General Question:

How is Brig. Gen. Giles Hallam Mills related to this family?

Sheikhs, Spinsters, and the Local Standard of Beauty

I'm not sure when Lady Dorothy Mills suffered her 1929 automobile accident returning from Ascot, but by 29 November she was not sufficiently recovered to be permitted by her medical advisors to attend a benefit in London for the King Edward's Hospital Fund and recount some of her African adventures.

A year later, in 1930, she published A Different Drummer: Chapters in Autobiography, a memoir presumably written during recovery from an accident that "left her scarred for life."

It's unclear at this point whether or not the 'scarring' referred to is literal or not. Either way, we already have seen that Lady Dorothy has some self-image issues related to her body. Those issues are touched upon in this newspaper piece from The Argus [Melbourne, Australia] on Saturday, 8 November 1930, and are almost used as a punch-line after 1600 or so words on the topics of romance, marriage, and divorce.

Lady Dorothy comments on younger women capturing the attentions of older men, and about the lack of faithfulness of "Sheikhs" once a wife, who once had been showered with poetry and promises, finds she has eventually become "old and ugly."

These adventures must have taken place years before, but they may have taken on new meaning to Lady Dorothy as she was convalescing, much of the time probably spent in her home on Ebury Street in London. It was a home she shared with her novelist husband, Arthur Mills. Was she concerned about Arthur, now that she was 41 years of age, had recently suffered serious injuries unlike any of the discomforts she endured on the road, and was still likely far thinner than she knew the men of England at the time would "admire."

[Update: After sleeping on it, I also can't help but wonder how, after a few years, husband Arthur felt about Lady D. repeatedly regaling friends, family, and the public at airshows and the like with tales of these amorous advances in wild but romantic locales, and how she always led on each fellow and evoked more information about his"proposal". I'll admit, if my wife, Janet, came back from a holiday with such tales, I might be a bit jealous, if not utterly miffed.]

Does she sense here that a page has been turned in her life, and that love and/or marriage would never be the same for her again? Her life had once been filled with adventure, danger, and exotic locales; here she spins yarns on behalf of fantasizing spinsters who do not know the "truth" about men.

See what you think. Here's the complete newspaper text plugging her new autobiography:

DITH M. HULL'S novel is almost forgotten; Rudolph Valentino is dead. Yet for many women sheikhs—the sheikhs of fiction—still have a curious fascination. Lay Dorothy Mills, the author and traveller, who is the daughter of the Earl of Orford, has no illusions about them. She has travelled since she was a child. Among her most conspicuous achievements are those of being the first Englishwoman to visit Timbuctoo and of leading an expedition through Liberia. During her travels she has met many sheikhs—she has even been proposed to by two—and she writes amusingly of her experiences with these great lovers in a chapter entitled "Sheikh-Stuff" in her book "A Different Drummer." The title of her autobiography was taken from Thoreau: "And if a man does not keep step with his fellows, it may be that hears a different drummer."

Lady Dorothy Mills begins by describing an incident in a little tourist town of the North Algerian desert. In the dining room of the same hotel were 12 elderly English women under the care of a harassed, flurried looking courier. "They belonged to one of the less expensive tourist agencies which, in 10 days, from door to door, for ₤30 or thereabouts, give their clients a fleeting taste of the Sahara and its thrills." In the middle of the meal there entered the Caid of a nearby douar with whom Lady Dorothy was acquainted. "He was a tall, handsome, black-bearded man of about 40, with lordly deportment, immaculately dressed in embroidered burnous and snow-white turban, and his rank in life corresponded to that of an English country squire." He made a profound impression upon the 12 English spinsters, and Lady Dorothy basked in some reflected glory because the "sheikh" recognised and spoke to her. She had to answer many questions, and, despite the fact that she was disillusioning them, told the truth: "that the Caid had five wives, three living, one dead, and one divorced, that he had 11 children, that he had never killed anyone in his life, in fact, that he considered fighting uncivilised, that he was a peaceable, home-loving soul, chiefly interested in farming.

The Sheikh at His Best.

"And that is what the 'Sheikh' at his best generally is," adds Lady Dorothy Mills. "The hawk-eyed bit of proud, brown beauty that struts the market-place, causing havoc among the more susceptible tourists, is as often as not, but a hen-pecked householder, who spends his days in money-getting, and loves to play with his numerous children after the day's work. That is the 'Sheikh' at his best. At his worst, he may be a lot of other things, but he is rarely romantic."

There was another side of the incident of the 12 English spinsters. The Caid told Lady Dorothy Mills that he had noticed the interest which they had taken in him.

"Who are they?" he asked. "It was told me that it was an English milord, who travelled with his wives."

"When I denied the truth of this typically Arab conclusion," Lady Dorothy Mills says, "he answered with an equally typical one. 'I thought not,' he said. 'Had it been true, he would have chosen them younger and handsomer. That information, out of the kindness of her heart, Lady Dorothy Mills did not pass on.

"'A queen by night, a beast of burden by day.' Thus, and pretty accurately, has an Arab writer summed up the position of an Arab wife," she says. "The Arab is fond of women as playthings, but he regards the subject of marriage very seriously, and his courtship is a matter of barter. When he finds himself financially able to support a wife and family, his parents search around among girls of marriageable age, that is to say, about 13 or 14, and of suitable requirements, possessing money, virtue, good health and temper, and, if possible, good looks. The girl found, the parents of both young people haggle for days or weeks or months over a dowry, which varies according to her share of the above-mentioned assets. No personal inclination of hers carries any weight, and the young man takes it for granted that his parents have done their best for him.

"They never see each other until the evening of the wedding, though the girl, if she be of the lower classes, may have caught a glimpse of him as, closely veiled, she passed through the streets. In very exceptional cases only can she obtain separation if he is unkind to her, but he on the contrary, can divorce her on any or no ground, providing he returns her dowry, by a few words spoken before the Cadi (town lawyer), for the sum of a few francs. This is certainly not the Koranic law, which is fair and generous in its treatment of women, but it is the custom-made law of the Arabs themselves, in a country where women's lack of education makes it impossible for her to assert her rights and privileges.

Hazards of Married Life.

"The young wife is lucky if her bride-groom is young and amiable; for sometimes he is old and repulsive, with a multiplicity of wives, regular and irregular, who may make her life a burden to her," Lady Dorothy Mills writes. "If she is young, though, maybe it is better for her to be the last wife than the first. For the Arab woman ages early and it is only a question of time, she knows, before her husband takes in marriage a younger, better looking girl, on whom he lavishes his kindness, his endearments, and his presents. As a sad little Arab wife said to me once: 'It is better to be the wife of an old man, the last and favoured one, than that of a young man and to grow despised and neglected in his service.' Luckily for her, the Arab woman is generally too ignorant to be dissatisfied, or to realise that there are greater possibilities of happiness than to simply be well fed and clothed by a husband who does not actively ill-treat her.

"Personally I have met many charming Arab gentlemen, some of whom I am honoured to number among my friends, but I would not marry one of them for all the wealth of the Sahara. And when I have mentioned this fact to them, and we have threshed out the subject; when, more especially, I have enumerated my requirements in a husband, with a grave smile most have admitted to me, from my point of view, to be right! Many Arab wives are happy after their fashion, for they know of no other order of things. But, however she may be beguiled by the imagery of the Sheikh's wooing, or the ardor of his assurances, the Sheikh will treat a white wife—if he can obtain one—just about the same as a brown one, once the novelty has worn off, and the fate of a few white women I have known who have married Arabs has been heartrending."

Although the Sheikh is not as romantic in his wooing, his language is poetic, at any rate to a European woman. Lady Dorothy Mills tells frankly of the two direct proposals of marriage which she has had from Arabs. "Neither flattered my self-esteem," she writes. "The first was from a very beautiful and resplendent creature of Northern Algeria, and his proposal was couched in all the vivid imagery of the 'Arabian Nights.' Among other things, he told me that my hands were like the little pink clouds that race the sky at dawn, and my face like the roses that bloom in a Sultan's garden; all of which pleased me very much! But he came down to earth with a bump when, out of curiosity, I began to probe for practical details."

A Sophisticated Arab.

The following dialogue is recorded:—

"You have already two wives," I told him, "and you know that we Europeans are not in the habit of sharing our husbands with other women."

"I am civilised, madame, I understand perfectly," he assured me. "And if you will marry me I will divorce them."

"But wouldn't you mind that?" I asked inquisitively.

"The elder one I should not mind; she is old and ugly. The younger one I should be a little sorry about, for she is pretty and good-tempered. But if you insisted I would divorce them both."

"But," said I, probing still further, "when my turn comes to be old and ugly, you will divorce me for a younger, prettier woman?" He shrugged his shoulders philosophically.

"Imshallah! If Allah wills!" he said.

"And that, I may add," Lady Dorothy Mills comments, "is what generally happens in Sheikh romances."

The other proposal was from a Caid of Southern Tunisia, "rough and uneducated, sixty and fat, with most of his front teeth missing, but he was a big chief in that wild country. Already he had three wives, two brown and one black, and now he wanted a white one to round off the quartet permitted him by the prophet. His proposal, through an interpreter, was conducted on the most correct lines, and the dowry he offered me was generous in sheep, cattle, and silk. But, he added, though he personally found me charming, I was far too thin to do credit, in the eyes of his people, to so great a chief, and he must make it a condition that I should partake of a local root called khalba, which his other wives would prepare for me, that was guaranteed in a very short time to fatten me up to the local standard of beauty."

It is doubtful, nevertheless, whether all the disillusioning things which Lady Dorothy Mills says in her entertaining book will counteract the romance with which the Sheikh has been invested by fiction and the films.

*"A Different Drummer," Chapters in Autobiography, by Lady Dorothy Mills (London:- Gerald Duckworth and Co. Ltd.); 11/6

'"But in England, Men Admire Thin Women..."

I suppose it's because she was the daughter of the Earl of Orford, but I don't seem to have much trouble turning up a seemingly endless stream of bits of information about Lady Dorothy Walpole Mills, who for 16 years was married to the brother of George Mills, Arthur Frederick Hobart Mills.

Still, I think it might also have been a factor of a burgeoning media that was thriving on advancements in communication technology in the fledgling 20th century. Suddenly, even seemingly trivial bits of information could make their way halfway around the world amazingly quickly. While news of Lady Agnes Mills, George's grandmother in Cornwall, and Lady Catherine Mills, first wife of George's father Barton, is virtually non-existent, they lived and died in the 19th century.

But neither of those two women had the glamour of Lady Dorothy's mother, Louise Corbin, an American who'd married the heir to the Earldom of Orford. Although she had been born in Helena, Montana, and raised almost exclusively in and around the finest spas of Europe [she never lived in her father's house in Spokane, Washington, except briefly as a guest], New York City claimed her as a native, and the British press seemed fascinated by this woman who was allegedly from the Big Apple of the United States.

Lady Dorothy had been born in 1887, but by the time she was a teen, her life was being written about quite publicly and being read about around the world, especially the speculation over when her parents would allow her to make her debut in society. This was long before her first novel, press conference, or highly publicized excursion.

Still, I'm not quite yet ready to explore Lady D's life here. Last night, however, while reading her book, The Road to Timbuktu, I came upon a section in which she describes her husband, Arthur, George's half brother.

The scene finds her in the tent of the wife, sister, and sister-in-law of a Touareg tribe's chieftain,

"squatting around a low fire of embers" somewhere amid the wastes of the Western Sahara…

After a few minutes of rather sticky silence and constraint, while they eyed me furtively and brewed me some sickly-sweet tea, their questions poured out so quickly that I had scarcely time to answer them. Was I married? How old was I? Did a man in England have more than one wife? Did my husband beat me, as did the husbands of the negresses? Did we have divorce?

They made favourable comparisons between the English and the Touaregs when I told them that we, too, were monogamous and not addicted to wife-beating, but they evidently thought it scandalous that in a civilised country a man should be able to divorce his wife, and that on the trifling ground of unfaithfulness. But that being the so, they were surprised that, having been married nearly seven years, I had not yet been divorced! Though, as the old lady remarked, rather cattily, I thought:

'When a man goes forth to fight, little can he know what passes in the tent.'

The little wife wanted to know if my husband was a great man.

'Very great, though not so great as yours,' I answered tactfully. 'When he speaks, his words are carried by road and air throughout the breadth of our land and far beyond the seas.' I thought that rather a neat way of describing a fellow-scribbler, and evidently it impressed them. In answer to another question, I said that to the best of my belief my husband loved me.

'But,' broke in the old crone, who seemed to have a spiteful outlook on life, 'he cannot be very rich or you would not be so thin.'

'What has that got to do with it?' I asked.

'Were he rich, and did he have a great regard for you, he would instruct his servants to feed you with rich milk and fattening pastes, and to rub you with oil, so that you would be fat and good to look upon.'

'But in England, men admire thin women,' I protested, lying simply to preserve a fragment of my self-respect, but evidently they did not believe me.

In many ways, Lady Dorothy tries to be as intellectual and detached as possible in her explorations. Of course, sometimes it can't help but become personal, such as when, after running through the night in her underwear after a departing riverboat, she was rescued, slung over a strong black shoulder, and carried like a sack of potatoes back to the vessel. Or when the stalking of a tribesman reputed to be a cannibal ended with her shyly being presented a bouquet of hand-picked wild berries and a smile full of sharpened teeth.

Here we do learn that she is proud of her husband Arthur [left], with whom she feels an affinity as a "fellow-scribbler"—they'd both published a few novels at that point in their marriage. In addition, we learn Arthur's books are so popular that they're being published abroad. I've seen editions of Mills' books in French, German, and Swedish, and I don't claim that's any sort of exhaustive list.

Switching to the subject of body image, Lady Dorothy is quite thin to begin with—something she admits is at odds with her being attractive to the average British male in the early, pre-Twiggy 20th century—and even more so after a couple of months cruising the Niger River and knocking about the desert. Does she wonder in her heart if Arthur truly finds her attractive—at least attractive enough to keep her?

She does think Arthur loves her at that moment, at least 'to the best of her belief.' That may be a preview of coming attractions as Arthur is discovered in flagrante delicto in a hotel in 1932, leading to Lady Dorothy's filing for divorce which was uncontested and granted in 1933 [below, right]. I'll ashamedly admit that I do wonder, "How thin was Arthur's lover that evening?"

It was Lady D who was often away from home, living in the countries of people whose bodies she often described with phrases like "magnificent black torso" with "sheer animal strength," and "fine physical specimens… well over six feet and well proportioned." It was Arthur's activities at home "in the tent," however, that ended up making the discussion of divorce with the chieftain's wife prophetic.

One does wonder about Lady Dorothy's complete adventures as a traveler and explorer. We read West with the Night by Beryl Markham and Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen [Karen Blixen] and do find breathtaking African adventures along the lines of Lady Dorothy's. Men like Antoine de Saint-Exupéry and Denys Finch Hatton may be frequently mentioned in those two texts, but only in the most Platonic of ways. Still, the words of the two authors often resound with passions that I'm certain were also explored in their undocumented affairs with those lovers.

In contrast, Lady Dorothy's words are frequently those of someone cataloging an adventure rather than completely savouring it. She often spends an entire chapter ticking off various tribes, religions, or locations in such strict organization and sequence that her story can take on the aspect of a very user-friendly textbook. Sections in which she recites racist litanies of offensive smells, sights, sounds, and proclivities are far less user-friendly, and paint her in a much less flattering light.

Anyway, Lady Dorothy's words, as quoted above, do give us some small bit of insight regarding the relationship between her and husband Arthur. One can't help wondering if theirs was a relationship that changed a great deal as she saw her career arc ascend over the next several years, while Arthur—the "very great" man she'd married who "when he speaks, his words are carried by road and air throughout the breadth of our land and far beyond the seas"—would soon see himself pounding out genre-specific novels that would come to be seen both then and now as having reached a rather low point on the scale of timeless literature.

The Road to Timbuktu is entertaining and even, at times, extremely insightful. It's also racist, elitist, and exhibits thinking along the lines of many of the worst aspects of colonialism. I can see why these books have slowly drifted out of our line of sight while, say, Out of Africa hasn't.

From our perspective today, we don't always find Lady Dorothy's beliefs very defensible. They do, however, offer a very personal glimpse into the world in which George Mills would have been born, bred, schooled, and wed.