Eight Years Later: The Final Chapter of King Willow

The final chapter of King Willow by George Mills is entitled "Eight Years Later," and it puts the finishing touches on the first two novels of Mills, including his very first, Meredith and Co.

The chapter begins: "It was late on a Wednesday afternoon, and the last day of the Oxford and Cambridge match at Lord's. The ground looked beautiful, the blue sky and green grass combining with the gay colours of the dresses in the crowded stands to make a wonderful splash of colour."

Oxford and Cambridge became the universities where the main schoolboy characters of Mills ended up.

After the match, the three main characters of King Willow—Pongo, Finch, and Falconer, better known as Hawk—end up in the car of Pongo, whom you may recall started as a timid and tearful young boy with a speech impediment at the beginning of Meredith and Co. They begin to discuss their former headmaster, "Peter" Stone, at fictional Leadham House School.

It is here we'll pick up Mill's narrative.


Shortly after the match, the three friends entered a large car that was waiting outside the pavilion. Pongo jumped into the driver's seat, while Finch and Hawk made themselves comfortable at the back. Pongo was on his way down to Sussex, to a small village where he now lived during vacation. He was going to drop the Hawk and Finch at their London hotels before going home…

There was a long traffic hold-up, and Pongo turned around.

'What about coming down and seeing Peter on Saturday? You know he's retired, and living quite near us, in the same village. You'd better come down to lunch, and we'll drop in to tea with Peter. By the way, Hawk, you've got to come see Uggles.'

'Uggles!' cried Finch. 'Is he still alive?'

'Yes,' answered Pongo, 'but he's very shaky on his pins, poor old chap! He'll go nearly mad when he sees the Hawk! There's quite a good train at 10.45 from Victoria. I'll meet you at the other end.'

As Pongo drove off from the traffic block, his mind went back some ten years, and he saw himself once again as a trembling new boy on his mother's arm, as he had waited for the train on the platform of Victoria Station. He addressed his two friends once more.

'I've not seen much of Peter yet, but I'll tell him we're coming. He'll probably give us tea in the garden. He's got a nice little place, and the last time I saw him he was very well.'

By this time the Hawk and Finch had reached their destinations, and Pongo dropped them off with a wave of his hand and a cheery 'Well, don't forget. The 10.45 from Victoria. I'll meet you.'


Longtime readers of this site will recall a message once received from Dr. Tom Houston of Windlesham House School, where George Mills had his first teaching job in 1925-1926. Let's review some of what Dr. Houston revealed about George.


G.R.A. Mills, BA Oxon, taught 4 terms at Windlesham House School [left] from Lent 1925 until Easter 1926, and maybe part or all of the summer, but his name was taken off the staff list by end of summer term 1926…

In 1925 Windlesham was at “Southern Cross”, Portslade, near Brighton; principal Mr Charles Scott Malden; headmaster Mr H D L Paterson; and the dog, Tubby.

In April George Mills married Miss Vera Beauclerc [sic]; they bought a house on Benfield Way, Portslade…

We have no record relating to his sudden (?) departure. He could, like a handful of other prep school masters, have been excited by the General Strike (that term)…

During summer 1935 he visited Mrs Charles [Malden], then in Springwells, Steyning, W. Sussex, and told her he had written a book “largely about Windlesham”, published by O.U.P. “He had been at 2 or 3 schools since, but is very faithful to Windlesham”, she said…

Uggles may have been related to Tubby, the Malden’s popular and heroic dog. The portrait of the headmaster Peter Stone has something of Christopher Malden, who had been in effect joint head for some years; he became principal in 1927. Mills evidently had a gift for befriending boys and learning their secrets; Meredith & Co. captures the idiom of pupils during the interwar period more accurately than any other novel.


There is certainly a wealth of information in those few paragraphs.

The excerpt from King Willow above notes that Pongo had a vacation home in a small village in Sussex. Mills, during the late 1920s and early 1930s was a rather itinerant teacher who had taught not only in Sussex, but in Windermere, London, and Glion, Switzerland, during the time. This home of Pongo's, used during vacations from school, could clearly have been based on Mills's own home in Portslade.

Despite Mills having left Sussex to continue to teach, he seems always to have kept ties there, which explains the repetitive nature of locations in Sussex continually cropping up in the later life of George Mills.

1935, incidentally, was the year during which Windlesham "moved to 60 acres in the Sussex downs north of Worthing," according to a more recent correspondence from Dr. Houston. That event may have occasioned some nostalgia on the part of Mills.

By the way, Charles Scott Malden, mentioned above, had died in 1896, the year of Mills's birth, and could not have been at Windlesham during George's tenure there, although the elder Malden still may have been a legend around campus.


However, it is the actual visit to Springwells, Steyning [right], that is of greater interest here. While what follows is not in any way a non-fiction account of that visit, the occasion must have meant a great deal to George Mills.



It was Saturday afternoon at about four o'clock, and three young men might have been seen walking slowly through the street of a beautiful little village in Sussex. They were arm-in-arm and talking excitedly.

'You know,' one of them was saying, 'Peter doesn't look much older. A bit grayer, that's all.'

The three young men went on talking until they reached a short drive entered by a wide gate that had been fixed against a post. They turned in through the gate and walked up the drive. Sitting outside the house, on a balcony, was Peter, with Mrs Stone. The tea things were laid, and Peter was on the look-out. When he saw his visitors he rose and hastened down the drive to meet them. He shook each hand cordially, his eyes sparkling with joy.

'Well, Falconer and Finch, this is a pleasure. Ogilvie [Pongo] told me you were coming down, and we were expecting you.'

The Hawk kept on looking at Peter. The grand old man had changed but slightly. He was as erect as ever, but perhaps somewhat more portly. He led the way up to the house, where Mrs Stone gave them all a very warm welcome.

Peter certainly had found a beautiful home. The house, an old farmstead, stood in a small but perfect garden. A little lawn stretched away from it, and a kitchen garden was at the back. Rose trees dotted about and well-kept flower-beds made the scene from the little balcony one of great beauty. Peter indicated some comfortable wicker chairs and Mrs Stone began to pour out the tea.

When the young men had settled themselves down, Peter talked about the match.

'I wish I had been there. That must have been a hot catch of yours, Falconer. The papers were full of it.'

'Oh, yes, sir,' laughed the Hawk. 'I told Finch that it was a bit of a fluke. He hit it straight at me, sir.'

During the serious business of tea there was little conversation. Peter kept glancing at the three boys, now grown to men, and he was very proud of them. Soon after tea Mrs Stone excused herself and left the men together. They produced their pipes and settled down to talking. They had eight years to bridge—eight years of ups and downs, of successes and failures at their public schools. Peter listened intently, allowing them to talk on.

After a while the conversation turned to the future and the careers they intended to adopt. The boys asked Peter's advice on all manner of subjects, and he did his best to answer them. Gradually, however, the as was only natural, the talk reverted to Leadham House, but this time Peter did not listen. As he sat back in his chair, blowing clouds of tobacco from his pipe, he was gazing into the future. He saw the three boys, now on the threshold of manhood, all making names for themselves and doing credit to their professions.

He knew their characters and feared nothing. He saw Finch destined for the Bar, a just and fearless judge, honoured by all men. Ogilvie, who was going into the army after his university career, Peter saw as a great soldier and administrator. But when he thought of Hawk, Peter smiled to himself. Falconer had been his favorite pupil, but Peter would not have admitted it to anybody. He knew that the hawk was to reach great heights, and he saw him as a priest in one of the poorest London parishes, cheerful and smiling, with a horde of ragged children clinging joyfully to the skirts of his cassock. He saw him in the midst of squalor and poverty going on his splendid way of radiating love and happiness. As he sat on the balcony that afternoon, entirely unconscious of the conversation going on around him, Peter's mind sped back through the years, and saw the Hawk, once more the grubby, laughing schoolboy devoted to sport and animals…


In this paragraph, filled with Peter's fictional reveries, we find some hidden real-life tributes.

First, Finch had earlier in the chapter been the batsman for Cambridge referred to by Falconer.

Finch is destined for the Bar out of Cambridge—much like the well-rounded mentor of George Mills at Warren Hill School in Eastbourne, Joshua Goodland [left]. While Goodland would never become a judge—Joshua would, in fact, pass away the next year while serving as vicar of the parish of Compton Dundon—it's probable that Goodland had shared with George the thought that if he'd stayed in his law career he might have at some point. After all, becoming a judge would have been the next logical step in his legal career. That step, however, was never taken: Goodland instead bought into Warren Hill School and eventually became owner and Headmaster. Perhaps it had been with regret that Goodland spoke of it with George.


And if this fictional visit to a village in Sussex reflects Mills's own visit there in 1935, it's interesting to note that 1935 was also the year in which Fr Basil Jellicoe, the noteworthy and charismatic reformer from the parish of St Pancras, had passed way from pneumonia at just 37 years of age—but most attributed his death to overwork on behalf of the London's poor children.

We've surmised there must have been a relationship between Jellicoe and Mills before, one that would have stemmed from George attending Oxford, where Jellicoe had run the Magdalen College Mission, which was manned by volunteer students from the university.

Once again, this indicates at the very least some admiration for Jellicoe [right] on the part of Mills, and even suggests that—given the intimacy that fictional Peter Stone exhibits in his knowledge Falconer above, as the latter graduates from Oxford—that the Mills and Jellicoe had been close friends.


Lastly, Peter envisions Pongo as an army officer who would make a "great soldier and administrator." Pongo as a timid young boy with a speech impediment (a lisp), as we know, was based on Mills himself.

So here we have a great clue: Pongo's character soon would be off to the army as an officer after of Oxford.
Mills, along with most others, must have seen war brewing in Europe. Soon after the publication of King Willow in 1938, George would be named an officer in the Royal Army Pay Corps out of the officer's reserve in 1940—interestingly, something Jellicoe had done following university, when he entered the navy as an officer during the First World War.


Spending WWII as a war substitute officer [left] certainly must have appealed to Mills. With the advent of hostilities in China and Europe signaling renewed global violence, a return to the military, this time as a officer, must have been on his mind.

So, here we have some evidence that Mills was already beginning to think that he might not spend the rest of his life writing books, especially as we can see that he was sending his most popular literary characters out into the world as adults.

George had been a failure in the Army Pay Corps during WWI, and in choosing Pongo for duty as an administrator in the army, he was—perhaps unknowingly—charting the same course for himself.


As we close things out at Who Is George Mills?, it seems natural that the examination of this chapter would fall close to the end of our work here. With that in mind, I'd like to finish it out to its end, as Peter sits among his billowing smoke, contemplating the future of the boys:


Then for no apparent reason he raised his eyes, and looked down the drive. What he saw made him sit up and smile.

'Ogilvie,' he asked suddenly, 'why didn't you bring Uggles to-day? I have not seen him for some time, and I was expecting him.'

Pongo laughed.

'Well, sir, he's rather weak on his legs these days, and he was so pleased at seeing the Hawk again that I thought it might be too much for him.'

Peter smiled expansively.

'He seems to have settled that point for himself. Here he comes!'

The three young men looked down the drive and rose to their feet. Uggles was labouriously coming towards them, puffing with his exertions, and Ogilvie laughingly called over to him.

'Come along, old chap, stir those stumps of yours!'

But the old bulldog found the pace altogether too hot for him. He was in extreme old age, but radiantly happy. Every few yards he lifted his head and looked up at his lord and master with devotion streaming from his eyes now growing dimmer. He ambled along slowly towards the spot where his friends were awaiting him, and snuffled as he went.



With that ending, King Willow closes with a paean both to the past and George's love of dogs, but with eyes focused clearly on the future.

George Mills was 42 years old when the book was published and surrounded by notes for his next two texts (which would both be published in 1939), but he was, himself, looking forward as well. Mills, who had known many more failures in his life than successes to that point, would begin to turn things around and make right many of the perceived wrongs he'd endured in his past.

This last scene, with a contemplative Peter wreathed in smoke and the worthy and loyal Uggles snuffling back to his friends, is the sort of sentimental tableau that Mills must have envisioned for himself at the end of his own life.

But before that could be, Mills had some unfinished business. First, his failed relationship with the military would need to be mended, leaving him with a point of pride there instead of a closeted shame.

We'll take a look at the ways in which Mills began to work steadily to vindicate what he perceived to be his failures next time.

Messages from George Mills: His Prefaces and Dedications

Let’s take a moment today to reflect a few messages George Mills sent out into the world without knowing who might read them. His books were primarily for children, but the same can't be said for the dedications and prefaces of his texts: They were meant for persons other than schoolboys.

Taking a look at these brief but meaningful messages within the books—but not part of the stories themselves—may tell us something.

Or they may simply let us know how much more we may want to know.


The 1930s:


• First let's look at the preface of 1933's first edition of Meredith & Co.:

PREFACE

ALTHOUGH all the incidents in this book, with the exception of the 'bait charts,' are imaginary, the book gives an accurate impression of life in a Boys' Preparatory School.

I wish to acknowledge, with much gratitude, the help and encouragement received from many friends; particularly from Mr. A. Bishop, the Head Master of Magdalen College School, Brackley, and from my old friend, Mr. H. E. Howell, who have read the book in manuscript form. I am also much indebted to Mr. E. M. Henshaw for his devastating, but most useful, criticisms, and especially to that splendid specimen of boyhood, the British Schoolboy, who has given me such wonderful material.

----------------------------------------------------------- G.M.


We've examined fairly recently the life and career of Mr. A. Bishop—Arthur Henry Burdick Bishop [right]—and have seen some references to Mr. H. E. Howell, although we have no real idea who he was.

The annoyingly critical Mr. E. M. Henshaw—whose mention was deleted from subsequent editions of Meredith—has so far been difficult to identify. Henshaw must have been an unliked and unwanted obligation, one that in later years no longer needed to appear.

Once again, if you have any notion of Henshaw's identity, or have some clever skills in a database like ancestry.com or The Times, please don't hesitate to let me know!


• Next, we'll examine the dedication to the 1933 edition of Meredith & Co.:

To MR. J. GOODLAND, sometime Head Master
of Warren Hill, Eastbourne; to the STAFF AND
BOYS OF THE SAME SCHOOL, and to those of
WINDLESHAM HOUSE, BRIGHTON, THE CRAIG,
WINDERMERE, and the ENGLISH PREPARATORY
SCHOOL, GLION, among whom I spent many
happy years, this book is affectionately
dedicated.


We've had far more luck tracing our way through this dedication. http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

Over time, we've been enlightened by Dr. Tom Houston at Windlesham and tracked down a smattering of information about The Craig and the English Preparatory School at Glion.

The amount of information we've unearthed about both Joshua Goodland, a mentor of George Mills, and Warren Hill School in Eastbourne [left], seems comparatively to be a wealth of knowledge!


• Mills's next published book was 1938's King Willow. Let's look at its preface:

PREFACE

READERS of Meredith & Co. will recognize here some old friends ; nevertheless King Willow can be read as an entirely independent story. The characters have no connexion with any people, alive of dead, but the book is typical of life in any big Preparatory School.

Once More I wish to record my thanks to my friend, Mr H. E. Howell, who has read the manuscript and offered helpful criticism ; and also to a host of schoolboy readers who have encouraged me to continue.

------------------------------------------------------------- G.M.

June, 1938


Again, by June, 1938, the mysterious Mr. H. E. Howell remains a dear friend of George Mills, schoolmaster and author.


• Let's look at the 1938 dedication to King Willow:

TO
THE HEADMASTERS, STAFF, AND BOYS
OF
EATON GATE PREPARATORY SCHOOL,
LONDON, S.W. 1.


That's a rather all-encompassing dedication. We have discussed the fact that no school by that name has been found (although I would be delighted to be corrected), and the current school at that location has no real interest in exploring its own past or in assisting in educational research.

It's interesting that Mills misnames the school, yet is precise enough to include the location "S.W.1." It's also noteworthy in that, while it must be the most recent school at which he'd worked, Mills singles out no Headmaster or Principal by name. Might that indicate he had already severed ties with the institution, and under less than joyful circumstances?

These inconsistencies make this is by far the strangest of Mills's prefaces or dedications.


• Now we'll examine the 1939 preface of Minor and Major:


PREFACE


THIS book deals with life in a big preparatory school, and tells about the boys and masters, their goings-out and their comings-in. All the characters are imaginary, and no allusion is meant to any living person.

The boys, who first appeared in Meredith & Co. and King Willow, once again present themselves for a short time during a cricket match.

I wish to record my thanks to my old friend, Mr H. E. Howell, for so kindly reading the manuscript and proofs. I also recognize the kindly aid of a schoolboy, Terence Hadow, whose criticisms have been invaluable, as also has the encouragement given to me by my friend, Mr Egerton Clarke, who has read the book in manuscript form. My thanks are also due to Mr A. L. Mackie, who has kindly helped to read the proofs.

------------------------------------------------------------- G.M.


Mills for a third time pays tribute to "old friend" Howell, but this time extends thanks to a few more individuals.

Schoolboy critic Terence Hadow died in 1942 serving as a chindit[some are pictured in Burma, right] under Major-General Orde Wingate. His remains were interred in Burma.

Egerton Clarke, as we recently learned, was a friend of George's in the Army Pay Corps, and at Oxford before leading George to the publishing house that would print Mills's final new book in 1939. Egerton passed away in 1944.

Finally, we simply do not know the identity of the kindly Mr. A. L. Mackie. Once again, if you have any idea, please let me know!


• Moving along, we arrive at 1939's dedication to Minor and Major:


To the Headmasters, Staff, and Boys of
Parkfield, Haywards Heath, where I received
my early education, this book is affectionately
dedicated


For the first time, Mills takes a nostalgic bent in creating a dedication, hearkening back to the first decade of the 20th century in dedicating Minor and Major to his own masters, as well as the boys with whom he attended Parkfield.

Parkfield is a school we've located and learned about to some degree after hearing from alumni.


The 1950s:

The prep school books of George Mills all were reprinted, Meredith and Co. twice.


• The edition we'll look at here is from 1950, published by Oxford University Press.

In addition to the preface and dedication found in the first edition, Mills, as we know, added this verse by Rudyard Kipling [left]:

Give me a willow wand, and I
With hide and cork and twine,
From century to century,
Will gambol round thy shrine

------------- —Kipling


There is also a subtle change in the preface. The last sentence of the 1933 original reads:

I am also much indebted to Mr. E. M. Henshaw for his devastating, but most useful, criticisms, and especially to that splendid specimen of boyhood, the British Schoolboy, who has given me such wonderful material.

The 1950 version simply reads:

I am also much indebted to that splendid specimen of boyhood, the British Schoolboy, who has given me such wonderful material.


Oxford University Press kept no records from that era, so we have no way of knowing if Henshaw was associated with the company in 1933, but had passed away or moved his career to another locale by 1950. Hence, the expression of gratitude to person for whom it's likely Mills cared very little was no longer necessary


• Jumping ahead to the late 1950s and the undated edition of King Willow, we find this revised dedication:


To
BERYL and IAN

Two young people who have just set
out on a long voyage in the good ship
Matrimony. May they have smooth
seas and following winds: may they
from time to time take aboard some
young passengers who will become
the light of their lives until they sail
into the last harbor.


Here George looks back on his life in the context of looking ahead to the lives of this young couple. He reflects on growing old together—something George was himself unable to do with his own wife, Vera, who died 30 years before he did. George and Vera passed away childless, and there is more than a little melancholy in Mills's best wishes for for the couple to be blessed with children.

Despite help from Michael Downes in Budleigh Salterton via his blog, we still have been unable to determine the identity of the newlyweds, Beryl & Ian, who probably would have been born between 1930 and 1940, and would be 70 or 80 years of age by now.

If you know Beryl & Ian, or if you actually are Beryl & Ian, please let me know!


• The 1950s edition of King Willow of also contains an expanded preface:


READERS of Meredith & Co. will recognize here some old friends ; nevertheless King Willow can be read as an entirely independent story. The characters have no connexion with any people, alive of dead, but the book is typical of life in any big Preparatory School.

Once More I wish to record my thanks to my friend, Mr H. E. Howell, who has read the manuscript and offered helpful criticism ; and also to a host of schoolboy readers who have encouraged me to continue.

I also wish to record my thanks to Benedict Thomas, a schoolboy who has suggested many practical alterations for this new edition.

---------------------------------------------------- G.M.


Here we meet a youthful Benedict Thomas, a lad who was helping an approximately 60 year old George Mills with his latest reprint of King Willow.

The only person of that name born in the U. K. between 1940 and 1960 was a "Benedict J. G. Thomas," who was born in late 1953. If Willow was published in 1960, Benedict would have been about 8 years of age when he offered his practical advice to Mills.

The only record at ancestry.com involving a Benedict J. G. Thomas involves his birth—nothing else. There is a location—Northeastern Surrey—and one other interesting bit of information: Benedict's mother's maiden name was Bishop.

That could make young Benedict the grandson of Arthur H. B. Bishop, mentioned in the first preface of George's first book. It would indicate that Mill's friendship with Bishop was long-lasting, but it could also indicate that the aging Mills may have been teaching or living in or near Surrey.


• The 1950s-ish edition of Minor and Major has the same dedication as the original in 1939, but has omitted the original preface seen above.

But there is this, in italic font:


All the characters in this book
are imaginary, and no allusion
is meant to any living person.


Did the publisher, London's Spring Books, include that as matter of course in all fiction books printed in that year? If so, that would provide evidence that the reprinting of Minor and Major was, indeed, the last of the late 1950s – early 1960s reprints. If not, could it be that a schoolboy, schoolmaster, or even headmaster from back in George's past had an issue with a character, thinking it Mils had taken a slap at him?

We'll never know if the latter was the case, but it seems that as the world approached our seemingly increasingly litigious times, that disclaimer may have been inserted across the proverbial board.


The Missing Text:


There is only one bit of information I have been unable to uncover: What might we find in the dedication and/or preface to Mills's final book, Saint Thomas of Canterbury, published in 1939 by Burns, Oates and Washbourne, the Catholic publishing house in London.

A glimpse of what is there could be most informative. One wonders if—given it was Mills's 'swan song' as an author—there might have been some clue in a dedication or preface that would provide insight as to why he never penned another book. Although I frequently check booksellers around the world, a copy of this title simpy hasn't arisen, and the closest library copy to here is about 600 miles away! It may be some time before we get the very last of the messages of George Mills...


As we wind our way down to the last few topics regarding George Mills that I have left to write, many thanks once again to everyone who has contributed in an effort to help me answer the question: Who Is George Mills?

Gallery 6: The Artwork of Tom Thursby

King Willow, the second children's novel by George Mills, was originally published in 1938, but a new edition was printed some 20 years later.

That reprinted edition carries no copyright date, nor does the text name the artist. However, we can easily see his signature on the dust jacket illustration and the frontispiece: Tom Thursby.

Thursby's colour work here is simply perfect for the genre and this story. Combining of the use of line with less saturates, unlimned areas of colour creates an interesting sense of focus, and Thursby's subtle palette is spot on for children's literature.

Assuming that the four unsigned black and white plates inside the text are his as well, they fail to live up to the quality his work exhibits in full colour. His line and brushwork, working solely with black ink, is extremely tentative and the images suffer for it. Even in his colour pieces at the fore, the figures tend to be a bit stiff, and the real lack of real confidence with ink makes that stiffness seem even more apparent in the plates within.

Not that it's a brilliant piece, but there is one plate that is an exception: The illustration found on page 167 depicting a boy trailing away from the cricket pitch has some of the more confident brushwork found in his colour work.

The difference, though, may not be colour versus black-and-white, but interior versus exterior imagery. Each interior setting is wound more tightly than a cheap watch, but when his images are free from the confines of architecture, floors, and furniture, they seem far less self-conscious.




"'That shadow, it's moved!'" [Page 67]




"'Speak out, and don't make excuses'" [Page 113]




"He returned to the pavilion, trailing his bat behind him" [Page 167]




"Pongo crept slowly across the carpet" [Page 239]


Thursby will be the last illustrator of any great competence found in the books of George Mills, and there is only one more: The late 1950s/early 1960s reprint of Minor and Major.

We'll take a look at that next time in our seventh and final gallery.

Kipling, Nicholson, Dewey & Mills

Once in a while, I will thumb through the well-worn pages of the books of George Mills looking for clues. Clues to what, you ask? I'm really never sure, and I'm always uncertain as to what I may find.

Recently I noticed a slight difference between two editions of his first book, the 1933 and 1950 editions of Meredith and Co.

Absent from the 1933 edition are the following lines:

Give me a willow wand, and I
With hide and cork and twine,
From century to century,
Will gambol round thy shrine

                          —Kipling


The verse comes from a publication entitled An Almanac of Twelve Sports, published in 1898 by English woodblock printmaker William Nicholson, "with words by Rudyard Kipling." It is set up as a calendar of sorts:

January – Hunting; February – Coursing; March – Racing; April – Boating; May – Fishing; June – Cricket; July – Archery; August – Coaching; September – Shooting; October – Golf; November – Boxing; and December – Skating

An additional verse also appears within the actual text:

Cricket.

  Thank God who made the British Isles
       And taught me how to play,
     I do not worship crocodiles
       Or bow the knee to clay!

     Give me a willow wand and I,
       With hide and cork and twine,
     From century to century
       Will gambol round my Shrine.


While cricket plays an important part in both Meredith and Co. and it sequel, King Willow, football and track & field are featured as well.

The appearance of this Kipling verse, it seems, is about far more than cricket. This also seems the perfect time to examine it, immediately after entries regarding other features of Mills's first two novels, both of which feature the playing of the sport.


My hunch is that when George Mills attended school himself as a boy—he went to Parkfield in Haywards Heath and then Harrow—things would have been difficult for him. After all, he was slight of build with a speech impediment. How much of the discomfort he felt at school was attributable to any institution, and how much could have been ascribed to the nature of young boys in such an environment, is unknown.

When his first book about boys' preparatory schools, Meredith and Co., was published in 1933 it carried the subtitle: "The Story of a Modern Preparatory School."

In subtitling his text, Mills clearly draws a distinction between the schools he attended—not physically, but in their philosophy of handling and educating children—and the "modern" schools at which he'd taught in the late 1920s and early 1930s.

Mills taught in an era greatly influenced by educational reformer John Dewey [left]. Texts of Dewey's with which Mills may have been familiar were The School and Society (1900), The Child and the Curriculum (1902), and Democracy and Education (1916).

Of Dewey, Wikipedia states: "In his eyes, the purpose of education should not revolve around the acquisition of a pre-determined set of skills, but rather the realization of one’s full potential and the ability to use those skills for the greater good… Dewey advocated for an educational structure that strikes a balance between delivering knowledge while also taking into account the interests and experiences of the student."


The books of George Mills clearly illustrate exactly that sort of balance in many overt and subtle ways. While the settings in the books of Mills are traditional, as are the classroom management techniques, the overall focus on the development of the child as a whole is obvious.

In Joanna S. Hall's paper "John Dewey and Pragmatism in the Primary School: a thing of the past?" in the journal Curriculum Studies, Volume 4, Issue 1, 1996 , pp. 5-23, the author studies Dewey's influence on British education.

From the abstract we learn:

In 1906, J. J. Findlay, Professor of Education at Manchester, eased English readers into pragmatism's foreign beginnings by setting John Dewey alongside Pestalozzi, Herbart and Froebel. This paper investigates the interweavings of pragmatism in the years following the First World War, when it appeared in views of children, pedagogy and curriculum.


This is the time George Mills lived, seeing these developments first hand. What a shock it must have been, however, following World War II, when George returned to being a schoolmaster and discovered that his notion of that ideal, modern prep school had been greatly altered.

We read last time about some anonymous readers here discussing their experiences with public school education, circa 1950 – 1975: "I'm afraid that the Catholic school system, as you probably know, was infested for many years by paedophiles and ghastly sadists," and "In hindsight it was a hideous, sadistic and monsterous Dickensian nightmare of a school."

None of that could have coincided easily with what George considered a "modern" education.


Hence, the verse by Kipling [pictured, right] is found, not in the 1933 edition of Meredith and Co.—the first edition, published in a modern era during which Mills had great hope for education—but in the 1950 edition, and subsequently the 1957 edition, the latter printed at a time when Mills—aged 61—would have been jaded about preparatory institutions, their changing philosophies, and their often questionable practices.

This Kipling poem hearkens back to the time of Mills's boyhood, when reality had to struggle mightily to separate itself from a young boy's fantasies, and the simple joys of that time of life seemed as if they might last virtually forever—"From century to century…"


This nostalgic note in the final reprinting of Meredith and Co. is telling. Mills had seen the changes that had taken place in school teaching and education, but he never addressed them directly. No new titles or characters leapt from his pen—or typewriter.

In a subtle change to the original layout of his first novel, Mills inserted a simple verse that allowed himself to drift back, nostalgically, to a time that made far more sense: To reading Kipling in bed, to dewy cricket pitches warming in the sun, to Modern Preparatory Schools, and to the never ending innocence of youth.

While that verse seems to be about the sport cricket, it actually says so much more about the life, the teaching career, and the nostalgic thoughts of an aging George Mills.

Gallery 2: The Work of Henry Matthew Brock

Our second gallery will, of course, focus on the artist responsible for the various works featured in the second novel by George Mills.

King Willow, the sequel to 1933's Meredith and Co., was published in London in 1938 by Geo. G. Harrap and Co., Ltd.

King Willow was illustrated by the talented Henry Matthew Brock, younger brother of C. E. Brock.



This first edition of King Willow is not only complete with a full colour frontispiece and four black line interior plates, but Brock was commissioned to embellish the text, from the cloth-bound boards of its exterior to small illustrations designed around the text of the tables of contents and illustrations [click to enlarge any image].



Brock's powerful and confident line brings a real clarity to certain of the interior illustrations that belies the whimsical quality of many others. His quality of line takes on the emotion of each illustration in a way that one can almost feel his hand interpreting the scenario found in the text as he drew it. Take for example, the contrast between the idyllic napper resting above the words "Chapter I," and the stern, authoritarian feel that is almost palpable in "Go down to my study, and wait for me."



"Go down to my study, and wait for me" (Page 99)

H. M. Brock may be the younger sibling of a noted older brother, but he clearly does not play second fiddle here. Of C. E. Brock, Wikipedia states: "He and his brothers maintained a Cambridge studio filled with various curios, antiques, furniture, and a costume collection. Using these, family members would model for each other."


"Murray picked up the dressing-gown and searched it" (Page 66)



"Puffing and panting and glaring at each other" (Page 131)



"Uggles occupied a good deal of the space" (Page 191)


The third book of George Mills—Minor and Major—will be the subject of the exhibition of our third gallery of artwork. Please don't miss the opening reception. Perhaps I'll serve wine and cheese…

Croquet Gazette: Who is George Mills?

From April/May 2011 (Issue 331) of the Croquet Gazette...



Click the images to enlarge each page in a new window!

Many thanks to the Croquet Association for allowing me space to be a guest author in that issue. For an interactive copy of the entire issue which can be increased to an even greater size, go to: http://content.yudu.com/Library/A1s2ne/CroquetGazette/resources/17.htm

An Afternoon at Warren Hill with George Mills and Bertram de Glanville

After spending the morning in Meads at the now defunct Warren Hill School, it just feels right to spend the afternoon there as well. It seems I'm not ready to leave as of yet.

In the last entry, we saw that Warren Hill had the use of land to the north of the school, just south of Moira House Girls' School, along Carlisle Road. That land (now part of Eastbourne College), it seems, was owned by the school.

We know that business partners Joshua Goodland and F. R. Ebden dissolved their partnership as of 31 July 1931, with Goodland becoming sole owner of the school. From the 11 August 1931 issue of the London Gazette, we can see an entry in a section, containing the addresses and owners of land about to be registered, entitled "Freehold," which reads: "7. Warren Hill, Beachy Head Road, and land in Carlisle Road, Eastbourne, by Joshua Goodland, Warren Hill, Beachy Head Road, Eastbourne."

This "land in Carlisle Road" is, we now know, where the photograph we examined in depth last time was actually captured.

Although Goodland sold the school sometime thereafter, we can surmise when the sale may have occurred based on this research, shared by friend of this site Michael Ockenden on behalf of the Eastbourne Local History Society: "According to street directories, the principals in 1925 were M A North and F R Ebden; in 1929 they were F R Ebden and J Goodland; in 1932 Joshua Goodland is the sole principal; in 1933 the sole principal is H E Glanville. (I have not seen a directory for 1930 or 1931.)"


We know Glanville's exact name is Bertram G. de Glanville. The ELHS has also graciously provided a promotional leaflet created by de Glanville after assuming the reins at Warren Hill. It contains some interesting information, available nowhere else that I know of. Let's take a look at it!


Initially, we find that Warren Hill was founded in 1885, telling us that its demise came shortly after the celebration of its 50th anniversary. The first page continues, "The school stands on high ground at the edge of the South Downs on the western side of Eastbourne. It is within a few minutes [sic] walk of the sea and from the house and grounds there are fine views of the English Channel and the Downs."

This is noteworthy. In two novels of George Mills, Meredith and Co. (1933) and King Willow (1938), prep school boys venture out onto the nearby Downs to play and sometimes engage in perilous escapades. Wikipedia notes that Brighton and Hove are remarkable in their residential encroachment into the South Downs, and as we are not now exactly sure where Windlesham House School (another school at which Mills taught) was located when it was in Portslade at the time, it would appear that Warren Hill, not Windlesham, would have offered the easily walkable access to the Downs enjoyed by his books' schoolboy characters.

This page of the document also adds that "There is a capacious sick wing which has its own kitchens, bathrooms, etc., and can be completely isolated from the main building in case of need."

Might we assume that sick wing is adjacent to the main building, abutting it at the southwest corner, as seen on the 1930 map [below, left]? Or could it be the outlying rectangular building to the west, near Beachy Head Road?


The second page of the document continues: "In the grounds there is a large concrete playground, a gymnasium, five squash racquet courts, a miniature rifle range and a carpentry workshop."

On the 1930 map, it appears we can see what are likely the squash courts to the left of the main building. It's also likely that the concrete playground is in that area as well. Since the gymnasium is listed above as having been "in the grounds," we can reasonably assume it, too was some sort of outlying structure. Unless either the sick wing or the gymnasium had been constructed after 1930, we may well assume that they are the buildings to the left of the main structure.

In addition, it makes sense to have both the gym and the infirmary close to an area that included athletic pursuits engaged in upon concrete and amid gunfire.

In a private photograph previously provided by the ELHS [click HERE to view it], seemingly from this time, we can see a new building at the left that is not in older photographs of the school taken from the south. A game of cricket is being played on that field, and we can see no signs of squash courts or a rifle range from this angle, again leading us to believe those are enclosed in an area behind that new addition to the school at left.

Regarding the playing field in that image we learn: "The playing fields consist of a large level cricket field of over 2½ acres and two other fields adjoining the school."

The "two other fields" are obviously the ones we see next to Carlisle Road, over which Moira House Girls' School looks. They are divided by a wall that was once covered with ivy, and are now owned by Eastbourne College, as we can see in the image.

In an archival photograph taken from another angle, again provided by the ELHS, we see Warren Hill towering at left [click HERE for the image]. We learned from Ockenden at the time: "[This image] is probably from a postcard and shows the view looking up what is now Beachy Head Road with the school on the left. It's hard to date precisely but one can suppose that it is pre 1900. The masters' residence must be the house on the right. The girls walking down the hill are almost level with a group of flint cottages which still stand. One of these was rented during various summers by Arthur Conan Doyle."

It would be interesting to know on which side of the road that unknown number of "flint cottages" mentioned here actually rests.

Figuring that the building on the right hand side of the postcard image is, indeed, the master's residence, Goodland, we can see, owned quite a bit of land in Meads. If the cottages mentioned face Denton Road, behind the supposed masters' residence on Beach Head [as seen today, above], and it was all in possession of the principal of the school, Goodland was, indeed, quite a landholder. One wonders what that entire tract of land as a whole would be worth today!



I do wonder if the current building across from Warren Hill School's location [above] is the same one referred to above as the "residence" of the schoolmaster's. We can do a drive-by via Google today, but we again notice its adorning ivy is no longer in place. Does the ivy in that postcard image obscure some of what we would need to positively identify the currently standing structure as being the same as the one to the right-hand side of the postcard image from the ELHS?

I don't feel qualified, sitting here half a world away, to discern that.


Another aspect of Warren Hill School that figures into the books of George Mills is related in this excerpt from the third page of de Glanville's leaflet: "Unless parents specially desire it, pocket money is not issued regularly to the boys, as it is felt that this practise tends to lead the boys to spend money for the sake of spending and encouraging waste. Any money sent with, or to, the boys is put in a special boys' bank and they may draw upon it in reasonable amounts. It is suggested that the amount sent with or to a boy in any one term should not ordinarily exceed £1."

Hijinks involving the need, or simply the desire, for money from that "bank" figures in many chapters of the stories told by Mills. Whether or not Windlesham House had a similar arrangement at the time, withdrawals from which could only be made under the watchful and thrifty eye of the Head Master, is unknown, and we may reasonably conclude that the yarns Mills spins regarding it were given rise at Warren Hill.

The last sentence on that third page is pertinent to the novels of George Mills as well: "Accomodation is reserved to take the boys to and from Victoria Station at the end and beginning of term, and boys are met at and conveyed to that station."

Not meaning to imply that Windlesham did not offer a similar service, we have no like ephemera or other evidence to conclude that they did. Warren Hill, however, offered such a convenience, and Mills used it to his advantage in designing his plots. Both Meredith and Co. and King Willow, begin at Victoria Station, and it is mentioned as the locale of the very first sentence Mills ever published in 1933:

"Percy Oliphant Naylor Gathorne Ogilvie, complete with a nurse, red hair, and freckles, stood with his mother on the platform at Victoria Station."

There is every reason to believe that Percy, who would soon be nicknamed "Pongo"—a spoilt, unattractive, sheltered nine-year-old—is autobiographically based on George Ramsay Acland Mills himself. Percy is described in this first lad-to-lad exchange after finally arriving at fictional Leadham House School by the Downs:

When his mother had gone, Percy felt the feeling of utter loneliness and physical emptiness which all new boys experience. He walked sadly into the school, and entered an empty form-room. Finding a convenient desk, he sat thereat and wept. He seemed to have sat there a long time, with his face in his hands, when he suddenly looked up and beheld, standing in front of him, the ugliest small boy on whom he had ever set eyes.

The new-comer was first to speak.

'Are you a new boy?'

Percy, who lisped when he was excited, answered, 'Yeth.'


This tender scene simply may reflect Mills's ability to observe and empathisize with young boys, but it more likely additionally reflects Mills own experience, to some degree, upon leaving home to attend Parkfield School in Haywards Heath around 1905.

Mills, as we know from his WWI records, suffered from a speech impediment, and the brief scene above may describe intimately Mills's first anxious experience talking to another child without the comfort and support of having members of his family nearby.

Small, tender, and genuine observations such as these are truly the strength of Mills's prose. Perhaps it's natural that a child so aware of his own language pathology would have painstakingly studied the oral language used by those around him, allowing him to replicate it in a way completely unique to the genre of children's literature of that era.


Returning to de Glanville's leaflet, we find on the last page a list of costs for boys attending Warren Hill.

A boy whose program included all of the extracurriculars offered would have accumulated a tab of over 70 guineas per term, payable in advance. Riding then cost an additional 8 shillings per lesson.

de Glanville acquired Warren Hill from Goodland around 1933, a year deep within the period known as the Great Depression. Michael O. of the ELHS weighs in with this insight:

The school was still in existence in Beachy Head Road in May 1934 because there's a reference to a scholarship in the Times of 29 May 1934.

The prevailing economic situation in the 1930s meant that private schools were having a hard time. Some were forced to close in Eastbourne and I guess this it could have been the reason for the demise of Warren Hill. However, the owner (headmaster) would have been sitting on some valuable real estate and would have been able to sell for a good sum.

Undoubtedly.

de Glanville's bankruptcy was the second one filed in Eastbourne in 1937, with all petitions entirely settled before the end of the calendar year. Given the value of the land, as mentioned, it seems unlikely that he had lost everything.

With this particular entry having grown to an almost unwieldy length, next time we'll take a look at some additional information on de Glanville gleaned by the ubiquitous Barry McAleenan. Don't miss it…