Sussex's Wartime Evacuations

Once again, my gratitude goes out to the Chittenden family for the trove of information and images that they've provided for us here at Who Is George Mills? This week, we'll take a look at an very interesting document entitled "Evacuation," written recently by Ann, a daughter of Hugh and Barbara Chittenden of Newlands School in Seaford, Sussex. It's a delightful and personal recollection of a five year long event that had the potential to be a nightmare, and one hopes that most of the children who had been evacuated at the onset of the Second World War were able to, like Ann, keep many of the joys of childhood intact—at least to some degree.


Thenford

At the beginning of the war, Newlands School was evacuated for a period of five years, firstly to Thenford House situated in a small hamlet approximately five miles from Banbury in Oxfordshire. It was a lovely Georgian mansion although I remember it being extremely cold in winter, the only heating being provided by open fires. I think Thenford House had approximately 80 acres of land. I started off as the only girl in a school comprising of about 60 boys. Two other girls joined the school later on during the evacuation although for a shorter period.

We had a very carefree childhood. The worry of keeping the school going and the safety of the children must have been an absolute nightmare for my parents, but we were unaware of this at the time and I recall a very happy childhood with a lot of freedom.

Below is a list of some of my extremely random childhood memories of my time at Thenford!

Our classrooms were over the stables.

The owner of Thenford House had left his horses behind and the groom who remained there taught me to ride.

Fire practise involved putting a rope around one's middle and being lowered over the side of the house from the parapet. I doubt modern Health and Safety officials would approve!

There was a large lake on which we skated – highly dangerous! I also learnt to chop firewood with an axe at the age of 8, as did the boys at the school. Again, highly dangerous!

There was a rogue gardener who had locked the kitchen garden and was selling the fruit and vegetables, which were supposed to be for the use of the school. I recall my father, with the school doctor, climbing over the walls in the middle of the night to raid the garden for his own vegetables!

The farm was just beyond the stable yard and, after milking, I used to drive the cattle back to the fields for the farmer at the age of 8.

One night at Thenford we were all taken down to the cellars as Coventry was being bombed. I recall there was a red glow in the sky, although Coventry was a long way away.

I remember going for a walk through the woods with our gas masks on for practise. They used to steam up and I used to lift the sides up to let the air in which would have defeated the object.

My father joined the Home Guard at Thenford [above, left], which was a little bit like Dad's Army!


Wardington

After three years we moved to Wardington House in the village of Wardington near Banbury. My memories of my time at Wardington include:

There was a farm next door to the house with a herd of jersey cows and my mother used to make bowls of clotted cream for us. Delicious!

There were Italian prisoners of war working on the farm. I recall that they used to wait every evening by the front of Wardington House to be picked up and returned to their camp.

I used to ride the butcher's pony for sixpence an hour.

My mother used to provide food for midnight feasts for the school, unbeknown to anyone else!

I remember the Home Guard at Wardington also. The overriding memory is of the Home Guard marching up the village street, with their Commanding Officer shouting “Halt” and they completely ignored him and kept on marching. He kept on shouting “Halt” until he finally gave up and yelled “Oh, for gawd's sake halt!”


Seaford

During the evacuation the school buildings in Seaford were taken over by the French Canadians. They used the weather vane for target practise and shot off the North, South, East and West which were later found after the war in the flower beds in the garden.

All very light hearted memories, of no importance but I hope they are of some interest to you!


Wonderful! I do believe these memories are important, though. The numbers—how many children were relocated, what transportation, average distance travelled, destinations, costs, etc. —are, I'm sure, readily available on-line and in dusty books. The facts and the figures, however, don't really tell the human part of the story.

These recollections help me—and all of us—envision a time and a way of life that's disappearing all too quickly, no matter on which side of the Atlantic one resides. Memories of things like the fire drills, the rogue gardener, the clotted cream, and the Italian prisoners help re-create it all in a way that makes television programmes like Foyle's War so popular—at least here in the States.

Perhaps the most enduring pop-cultural reference to Britain's evacuation of children during World War II comes in the first chapter of C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, as described in Wikipedia : "The story begins in 1940 during World War II, when four siblings—Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie—are evacuated from London to escape the Blitz. They are sent to live with Professor Digory Kirke, who lives in a country house in the English countryside."

In Lewis's novel there is no reference to where, exactly, the children had been relocated, but it's easy to imagine that, had those Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve not become involved in their adventures beyond the wardrobe, they may have instead explored the area around Professor Kirke's country house and had much less fantastic, but quite meaningful, adventures like Ann's above.

How does any of this truly relate to George Mills? First, George lived in this world, and it was far less idyllic than as was perceived by young Ann. Mills returned to the military in 1940, becoming a second lieutenant army paymaster at the age of 40, assuring us that he was keenly aware of his duty during the conflict as well as the dangers for himself and his nation. Understanding the world in which Mills lived provides context for understand the man himself.

Secondly—and as always seems to happen when we study George Mills—we find there is a Sussex connection.

During George's time as a schoolmaster at Warren Hill School in Meads late in the decade of the 1920s, he must have been acquainted with writers (and sisters-in-law) Kitty Barne and Noel Streatfeild. Mills was not a writer at the time, and would not become a published author until the appearance of his breakthrough novel Meredith and Co.: The Story of a Modern Preparatory School on bookshelves in 1933. George had taught with Kitty's husband, and Noel's brother, musician Eric Streatfeild in Eastbourne.

Meredith and Co. contained vignettes undoubtedly culled for his time at Warren Hill, as well as his stint at Windlesham House, then in Portslade, and made a study of the vernacular used by boys of the era, a first in children's literature. It was a device that many subsequent children's authors have imitated.

Later that decade, as children were being evacuated from Sussex and in the same year that Mills was returning to active duty under the Colours, Kitty Barne published her Carnegie Medal winning book Visitors from London, an early novel about evacuees that was set in Sussex.

By 1945, Noel Streatfeild had authored Saplings, a novel intended for adult readers, set in 1939 and describing the wartime experiences of the Wiltshire family, focusing on the children Laurel, Tony, Kim and Tuesday. Saplings, according to a reviewer called Nymeth , "chronicles the psychological effect these separations, this uncertainly and instability, had on those who had to grow up with them," and "capture[s] a child’s perspective and understanding of the world" as it was for them during the war.

The on-line review continues: "The children are actually very well-off, in the sense that they are physically safe, they never go hungry, and they don't suffer discomforts. And yet my heart still broke for them."

That is very much how one might feel regarding Ann's memories above. It's a tribute to Ann, and the rest of the world's ' greatest generation,' that they survived so much and were able, for the most part, to come away with memories of a positive nature. Families were separated, lives disrupted, and a gnawing feeling of fear must have been prevalent, knowing Nazis were just miles away in occupied France, anticipating overrunning and conquering England in much the same way they'd blitzkrieged most of Europe. It's difficult today to think of those times as having been anything but frightening, a feeling of which we find a hint in Ann's recollection of the bombing of Coventry.

Ann Chittenden, as a child, seems to have lived very much in the moment, and if she harbours any grim or bitter recollections of leaving home and family for five years of her life, she isn't dwelling on them.

Noel Streatfeild, however, was still ruminating over the events of the evacuation some thirty years later when, in 1974, she published When the Sirens Wailed, a text described as being "about three evacuees and cover[ing] issues like rations for evacuees, relationship[s] between evacuees and townspeople, and the problems encountered by those who stayed behind." [You can find more about the book by clicking HERE.]

Many thanks, Ann, for adding your own memories here.


George Mills had passed away in 1972, and there's no indication that he ever discussed his feelings and experiences during the war with anyone who still living today. During the conflict, George dealt with the deaths of friends (Terence Hadow, Egerton Clarke), colleagues (Capt. William Mocatta, Joshua Goodland), and loved ones (his wife, Vera, and his mother, Edith), all between 1939 and 1945.

We certainly don't know if he kept in touch with Barne or Streatfeild after leaving behind a career as a schoolmaster and becoming, like them, an author of children's books. What we do know is that whenever we examine George's life, or the lives of those close to him, the path always seems to lead us to Sussex.

Did George spend time after the war teaching in Sussex—Seaford, specifically—at Newlands School? Right now we have no evidence of that.

But it wouldn't surprise me one bit!

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.

Discovering Warren Hill School in 1880

The indefatigable Barry McAleenan is at it once again! Just when we think we've culled all of the archival images of Warren Hill School possible, Barry has sent more—for our personal use in this research [click the images to enlarge]!

Here's a message I recently received from Barry:

The local library found a couple of photos of Warren Hill School taken in 1880. The second assistant was most insistent that copies should only be for personal use - not for books as they have the copyright... The first assistant was affable and helpful. So it goes.

The scanner was unavailable, so I resorted to using a camera and natural lighting from a small window as the flash was far too bright:

Both are stamped BUDGEN BEQUEST

[This image is located above, left]

Reference PG 01316
Builders at work. Note the extensive landscaping that must have occurred.

The back says
Warren Hill School Additional buildings
Genl [General] Buchanan 1880 [The 1875 map shows no buildings on the site]
Meads road etc


[This next image is seen, right]

Reference PG 01510
School and 2 people

The back says
Building the 3rd Addition to Warren Hill School [Phase 4 since the first sod was cut?]
Photo Genl Buchanan


Are they good enough?



Far more than good enough, Barry!

First, it's interesting to note the change from an 1875 Eastbourne map that shows no buildings at all on this site to what apparently is the "third addition" to the main building. There is much to be learned from these images since we know that Warren Hill didn't become a school until 1885!


Right off the bat, we can see that the building layout depicted on the 1930 map [see it by clicking HERE] grew from right to left (east to west), and appears to be growing quickly at the time of these images.

But for what reason? Warren Hill started as a school in 1885, some five years later. Was this the Victorian mansion of a homeowner? If so, why were three additions done in so swift a time—between 1875 and 1880?

The provenance indicates that these 1880 images were captured by a "General Buchanan."

This is likely Gen. James Buchanan, who appeared on the 1881 UK census living at No. 5, Grange Gardens, in Blackwater Road. He was 63 years old that year, and had been born in Bangalore in the East Indies. His occupation was listed in what appears to be this way: "General [illegible symbol—"H"?] Ind. Army Cavalry." He dwells there with his wife, 54, two adult daughters (one of whom was born in India), and a son-in-law, along with servants.

Incidentally, the General lives next door to a retired Colonel from the Bengal Staff Corps, James W. H. Johnstone, and the Colonel's family—a wife, three daughters, 13 through 21 years of age, and servants—who reside at No. 6.

Grange Gardens [Both No. 6 and No. 5 are pictured today, at left] at Blackwater Road appear to be about a half mile east-northeast of the site where these photographs of the additions to Warren Hill were taken. Just as an aside, but seeing these homes of retired British officers still makes me wonder why Lt. Arthur F. H. Mills, brother of George Mills, was unable to support an allegedly impoverished wife back in England during the First World War (and a promotion to Captain during the conflict did not seem to help). Did wages only become enough to support a wife and consider having a family when one became, say, a Major? And then was one able to afford a home like No. 6 after reaching Colonel?


Anyway, Barry adds:

The index for the files and labels gave the following details

Warren Hill

Alfred M Wilkinson 1885-1916/17

Preparing boys for public school or Royal Navy

M A North and F R Ebden 1916/17 -

War Memorial designed by Sir Robert Lorimer.


We can now corroborate that the complete roster of principals of Warren Hill were, in order: A. Max Wilkinson, M. A. North, F. R. Ebden, Joshua Goodland, and Bertram de Glanville.

It strikes me as odd, however, that someone might have invested in building this beautiful structure, and spent over five years slowly adding on to the empty structure, turning it into a school for boys headed into the military. It must have first been a home, or even a business, it seems, for however briefly. One wonders why it is identified here as "Warren Hill," and not "The home of Someone-or-Other," even if the annotations were written later.

And beautiful this edifice is! We now can easily see the finish of the walls, windows, gables, and chimneys, and what one supposes was the original landscaping to the right [east] in front of what must have been the first part of the structure built.

There's reason to believe that someone constructing an edifice of this size, even for use as a private residence, would have expected a great deal of company. Our assumption that the kitchen is likely located there, in the original structure to the east, remains plausible.

We can also see that the conservatory/greenhouse clearly visible in the sepia image [view it by clicking HERE] is part of that original structure.


Just past the conservatory, to the northeast, Barry writes: "The masters' house appears to be down Beachy Head road and the optimum reproduction scale probably shows it to be behind the man's left ear beyond the lean-to conservatory. It shows up conveniently alone in both the 1899 and 1930 maps. What do think? Number 161 in the parcel (on the 1930 map)."


I had to admit, I couldn't see anything in the image, beyond that left ear [seen, right]. Barry, however, has seen the original image.

Barry continues: "If I look carefully enough, I seem to be able to see a gable - in the mess of tree branches - of what could well be the Masters' house. But it is only discernable briefly if you do a slow zoom!"


Admittedly, I still can't make out a gable, no matter how, but I accede to Barry's careful perusal of the original photograph, and believe that the house across and down Beachy Head Road from the school may have been the mysterious and missing master's residence.

Now, I don't think that house was in the West Ward census from 1901 that I examined here a few weeks ago [see it by clicking HERE]. And my access to those census records from the United States is only searchable by people--I need surnames, at least. Once I "hit" someone in that locale, I can search it entirely, including all surrounding dwellings, but I can't enter it in any other way. Without the name of someone living in that home during the late 19th or early 20th century, I can't check census documents to see if it may, indeed, have been chock full of schoolmasters!

We can see further evidence of the house to which Barry refers by examining the vintage image of it from the post card photograph as it is inset against a screen shot of the road as it appears today [pictured, left], captured from Google Maps Street View. We can see that, while some modifications have been made, the real structure of the dwelling's chimnneys still are exactly the same!


Lastly, these old photographs indicate that I must flip-flop one again in my speculation regarding the age of the post card image (seen by clicking HERE) of Warren Hill School that we have previously discussed. I had originally thought that it must have been the oldest of the images, but changed my mind to it being the newest—perhaps more recent than 1930—and thinking it simply must have been "antiqued."

Still, that didn't explain the flatness of the front façade of the building, facing Beachy Head Road. These 1880 images depict the structure before the final westward additions have been built, and it seems likely to me that the front of the building would not yet have included the bulge in the front that is missing in the image on the post card.

Hence, I believe that the post card image is the oldest of Warren Hill [seen, right] out of the original three I received from the Eastbourne Local History Society, and nearly identical in overall structure to these latest 1880 images found in the library by Barry Mc!


Once again, I owe Barry a greater debt of gratitude than I could ever begin to express. His resolve and ingenuity have helped me grope my way along the way here at Who Is George Mills? and I am most grateful.

As always, thanks, Barry!

Newlands School Sports Days, 1937–1939

The website Geograph provides us the following information, along with the image above:

"With over 100 schools, Seaford once had one of the largest concentrations of schools in the UK. Today this school, Newlands, is the only independent school left in the town."

The mind reels when considering first, the sheer number of independent schools in Seaford, and second, the greater-than-99% drop in the number of Seaford's independent schools. Of course, woven in there were a couple of World Wars, a Great Depression, some nasty economic recessions, inexorable inflation, a pinch of unemployment, and a smattering of lesser-but-quite-deadly armed conflicts sprinkled about here and there.

My hunch is that it's a bit different today at Newlands School than it was back in that bygone era.

What exactly was it like to be in school at Seaford almost three quarters of a century ago? I'm glad you asked!



Here's a YouTube video posted by "berestede" called 1930s Newlands School, which is accompanied on-line by this note [my emphasis]: "Footage of sports days in 1937, 1938 and 1939 at Newlands School in Seaford East Sussex. The footage was shot by Cecil V Levesley… my grandfather and features my father who was a boy at the school in the late 1930s."

It must also feature Hugh Faithfull Chittenden, and perhaps the unknown E. A. Cooper—perhaps they are the two gentlemen in suits monitoring the firs drill at around the 1:55 mark. We see them again with the scouts at 4:04.

And one wonders about the identity of the gentleman seen at the 5:00 mark, and the quick glance at some gentlemen at 6:18!


Other interesting images, at least for me: Exterior of the school (in the first 0:30); Tending the garden (1:00); Rollerskating (2:23); Running hurdles (4:28); and some Dance & Marching drills (7:00).

Having read the trilogy of preparatory school books of George Mills (which focus to a great degree on sport and outdoor activities), as well as having studied as much as I can about schools like Warren Hill in Eastbourne, I still have only seen still images—archival photographs and illustrations from the books of George Mills. After viewing these films several times, much of what I've been reading has come startlingly to life for me!


This video is an invaluable time capsule, reliving some of the joys (well, they appear for the most part to be joys) of prep school boys of that era—at least those enjoyed out of doors!

Many thanks to "berestede" for posting 1930s Newlands School, and check out his other videos (especially 1940 Fairlight Farm) at: http://www.youtube.com/user/berestede

Capt. & Mrs. H. F. Chittenden of Newlands School, Seaford

We're staying yet another day in Seaford, East Sussex—just as I'm certain that George Mills would have wanted to do himself during summer—to take a look at another Sussex-based connection to Mills.

A connection with Sussex, especially Seaford, is by no means specific to George Mills in and of itself. But stir in a preparatory school and croquet, and the coincidences we always seem to find revolving around Mills start adding up! Let's start our examination at Newlands School in Seaford [pictured above, left, the entrance to the old school building, presumably a gate-keepers or caretakers lodge] and its proprietors, Mr. & Mrs. H. F. Chittenden.

From the Newlands website, here's a brief history of the institution:

The school first started as a tutorial in 1814 at Hatfield House, home of The Marquis of Salisbury.

The Marquis' chaplain was a man called The Reverend Faithful [sic]. He taught the local children... He retired in 1854 and handed the pupils over to Mr. Chittenden, who started it as a school in Hoddeston [sic] in Hertfordshire.

He called this school The Grange, hence the 'Grange' dormitory at Newlands today. He had strong views about education and felt that no lesson should be longer than 20 minutes, as no child could concentrate one hundred per cent for longer - and he demanded one hundred per cent!

The Reverend Faithful was Head until 1893 and was then joined by his nephew, Mr. Wheeler, who eventually brought the school to Seaford in 1903.

At first he rented two houses in Seaford and hired the back playing field from a local farmer. Then he built the school and later bought the front field. His foresight in purchasing land gave the school the opportunity to expand later on when it was needed.


So, we find the roots of the school extending back as far as 1814, but its history in Seaford dates to 1903.

Where exactly the transition in ownership occurs, moving from the tenure of Reverend Faithfull and Mr. Wheeler to someone actually named Chittenden, is difficult to determine, but in the 1930 Sussex Post Office Directory of private residents, the following entry is found: "Chittenden, Capt. Hugh Faithfull, The Mill dene, Sutton Road, Seaford."


Then, in the 1931 telephone directory for Seaford, the following listing for the same Chittenden is included:

Chittenden, H. F. & Cooper, E. A, Newlands . . Seaford 34


Does this entry imply that the school is under the co-ownership of partners, one of which is H. F. Chittenden? Or is this a principal and a Head Master? That 1930 directory mentioned above lists an "Cooper E." living in Eastbourne, but no "E. A."

What we do know is a bit about Hugh Faithfull Chittenden.

He was born on 9 November 1892 in Epsom, Surrey, to Charles Grant Thomas Faithfull Chittenden (1860 – 1905) and Eliza Cummins Wheeler (1859 – 1952). Their son, Hugh, does not appear in the UK census in either the 1901 or 1911.

The year of the senior Chittenden's death—1905—drew my notice. Having married a Wheeler, presumably the daughter of Reverend Faithful's partner, Mr. Wheeler, and with Hugh and his father having been named after the Reverend, these families seem to be inextricably tied to the school and each other.

That seems to have been made more apparent when one reads the probate of Charles Chittenden:

CHITTENDEN Charles Thomas Grant Faithfull of 33 Hatfield-road St. Albans Hertfordshire died 17 May 1905 at Little Grange Broxbourne Hertfordshire Probate London 18 July to William Albert Wheeler, school-proprietor Effects £5226 3s. 6d. Resworn £5526 3s. 6d.

Having left behind at the very least a 44-year-old widow and a 12-year-old son, Hugh, Charles Chittenden opted to bequeath his legacy to the proprietor of the school!

Charles died at the location of the original school, Little Grange in Boxbourne, Herts, where two of his sisters still lived, although the school itself had gone by 1905. (By the way, earlier census records show that this 'Little Grange' was, indeed, the location of the Grange Preparatory School.)

It's strange, though, that during the 1901 UK census, the Chittendens—Charles and Eliza—lived in a boarding house owned by Sarah and Susie Searle in Sidmouth, Devon, along with Arthur G. F. Chittenden, 38 and "living on means," and Evelyn R. Wheeler, 35, with no occupation listed, presumably a relative.

The occupation of Charles on that 1901 census form is recorded as "banker's clerk," not schoolmaster, not even remotely related to the field of education, and they are clearly not living near Herts or Seaford. So much for the notion that this family was very close, and that their lives revolved entirely around the school, making the peculiar probate above far more difficult to understand than it started out! The fact that H. F. Chittenden would become Head of Newlands was apparently not always carved in stone.

None of the couple's children is listed as boarding there with them in 1901, and by 1911, Eliza is living in the Greenwich district of London, according to the census from that year.

In fact, the first record we find of their son, H. F. Chittenden, is in an issue of the London Gazette dated 19 November 1915, in which "Hugh F. Chittenden" is listed as an entry in a section headed by the term "The Royal Sussex Regiment." It reads: "The undermentioned Second Lieutenants to be temporary Lieutenants. Dated 27th September, 1915."

We can see from his WWI medal index card [pictured, left, front and back] that he transferred to the Royal Engineers, and that his service under the Colours was meritorious. Still, it is difficult to find much mention at all of our H. F. Chittenden, let alone information about his boyhood or education.

And here's a mention in the text Fifty-five years at Oxford: An Unconventional Autobiography (Methuen, 1946) written by George Beardoe Grundy, Hugh's father-in-law:

"Of my two children my son Major Grundy, East African Engineers, has lived in Africa since the close of the last war, and my daughter Barbara married Hugh Chittenden of Seaford, Sussex. In the case of both of them a light-hearted youth has been succeeded by a middle age of hard and successful work. ——G. B. Grundy"


Hugh F. Chittenden's hardworking wife, Barbara May Grundy, was born 2 April 1896 in Epsom, Surrey. They were married in Oxford in the spring of 1917, and the success to which Grundy refers must involve Newlands.

They had a son, Sgt. H. J. R. Chittenden, who was born in Oxfordshire in the summer of 1918, and died on active service with the Military Police of the East Africa Corps in October, 1942.

Their son's 1943 probate reads: "Hugh John Robert Chittenden, of Newlands School, Seaford, Sussex, died 30th October 1942, on War Service. Administration Lewes, 25th October, to Hugh Faithful Chittenden, School Proprietor. Effects Five Hundred and Sixty Four Pounds, Eighteen Shillings and Eightpence."


In early 1932, the couple may have had a daughter, Anne Chittenden, in Marylebone, London.

At first I found no indication that they may have had a child bearing the Christian first name of David, except that in the Newlands website's "History of the School" we find:

Many years ago an exclusive interview was conducted with the late Mr David Chittenden, ex headmaster and direct descendant of the man who started Newlands, some insight was gained into what life was like at Newlands before and after the war:

'Things were very strict then. The swing door by Matron's surgery led into my Parents' private area where no one was allowed, not even me during term time! I had to call my Father, "Sir", and my Mother, "Mrs. Chittenden." However, I liked the life. It was different and a lot tougher than today. Every morning we had cold showers, Winter and Summer and until 1950 boxing was compulsory for all pupils whether they liked it or not!'


Checking the 1946 phone records, the following record appears:

Chittenden, H. F, Newlands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Seaford 2334


Despite the lack of a record of a David Chittenden having been born to a mother with a surname of Grundy, the above anecdote indicates that H. F. and Barbara Chittenden were, indeed, David's parents.

H. F. Chittenden is listed at the Newlands phone until well into the 1960s, after which the listing becomes:

Chittenden, H. F, Rostrevor, Claremont Rd . . . . . . . . . Seaford 4130


Just above that 1969 listing, however, is this one:

Chittenden G. W. D, Newlands School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Seaford 2334


Assuming the "D" stands for David, we've found our man: George W. D. Chittenden, born in Eastbourne in March of 1926!

And, unfortunately, we learn even more about David Chittenden [left] in this obituary from the Eastbourne Herald of Friday, 25 May 2001:

Newlands mourns death of Founder

It was with profound sadness and loss staff and pupils heard of the untimely death of David Chittenden on Easter Saturday. There was nobody who cared more passionately about Newlands - past, present and future, than David and his life was intrinsically interwoven with the school. Five generations of the Chittenden family were proprietary headmasters of what was then Newlands Preparatory School, for boys only. David attended the school as a pupil when his beloved father was headmaster. With no secondary schooling available at Newlands then, David went to Eastbourne College before returning to Newlands as a teacher and then as headmaster in succession to his father. This role he carried out in his own inimitable manner... A tribute to David Chittenden from headmaster Oliver Price appears in tomorrow’s Seaford Gazette. A memorial service will be held in St Leonard’s Church on June 25 at 11.30 am.


Education was the career of, as it says, five generations of Chittendens, and that be true (although I can't entirely discern its veracity). However, a hobby comprises this last bit of Chittenden-related trivia: It appears that H. F., an inveterate bird watcher, was ornithologically notable for having made and documented a certain discovery in his garden.

In the 1929 journal British Birds, Volume 22, we find the following: "Mr. HF Chittenden informs us that at Seaford, Sussex, on December 18th, 1927, Lapwings in large flocks were observed heading straight out to sea southwards. The weather was very cold with a strong east wind."


In the 1931's Proceedings of the International Ornithological Congress (Vol. 8), there is an article on page 85 by E. B. Poulton and H. F. Chittenden dated Oct. 15, 1930 entitled, 'The Hedge-sparrow feeding a young Cuckoo on Pieris rapae, L.'

Chittenden's contribution to the above article is described in the Journal of entomology: General entomology, Volumes 5-6, published by the Royal Entomological Society of London, 1930. It reads:

"Poulton exhibited two photographs kindly sent to him by Mr. HF Chittenden, who had taken them, on 29 June, 1930, in his garden at Newlands, Seaford, Sussex. The first showed the fosterer approaching with the white butterfly very clearly seen in its beak, while in the second the food was being transferred. Both photographs showed the Cuckoo sitting on the flat top of a tree-stump. that the Pierine was undoubtedly P. rapae and not brassicae. He did not see the insect caught, but observed that the whole butterfly, wings and all, was swallowed by the young Cuckoo. In answer to the objection that the Hedge-sparrow might be offering to the Cuckoo food which it would have itself rejected, he referred to the known examples of maternal instinct in which the parent bird devoured the faeces of its young."


His observations would soon be sought and held in high regard. In A History of Sussex Birds: American Blue-winged Teal to Red-legged Partridge (H. F. & G. Witherby Ltd., 1938) by John Walpole-Bond and Philip Rickman, for example, the authors note:

"Haematopus has been found more than a few hundred yards from the Channel, and all such relate to single specimens frequenting the banks of estuary and inlet — with one exception, which bears on two birds seen by Major HV Christie in a field adjoining the western Rother at Stopham, quite eleven miles from the coast, on May 5th 1936, though during mid-August, 1937, Captain H. F. Chittenden met with a couple at Littlington about a league from the coast in the vale of Cuckmere. In other words, with us the "Olive " is practically a confirmed shore-lover, where it affects not only the mud-flats and shingle, but also the rocks beneath the cliffs at low tides; and the western half of the coast (especially the southwest corner) is vastly preferred to the eastern. It seldom fraternizes with other species, though on several occasions I have seen it with common curlews."

So, why is an amateur ornithologist, one-time captain in the Royal Engineers, and headmaster of a preparatory school in Seaford, Sussex germane to our ongoing discussion of George Mills?

Besides the usual, multiple, very coincidental relationships—lived in Sussex (Seaford), ran a preparatory school, was an officer in the Royal Engineers (the corps in which George's Uncle Dudley A. Mills was a well-known officer)—it's H. F.'s wife, Barbara, providing the best link!

Barbara Chittenden was a croquet partner and rival of George and his sisters, Agnes and Violet Mills, during the post-War era. Barbara played from 1952 through 1978. She went 10-10 against Agnes Mills in 20 head-to-head matches over the years according to the database at the Croquet Association, and they played both with and against each other countless times in doubles.

Strangely, Chittenden only played Violet Mills once, on 20 June 1962 at Eastbourne, in the first round of the Open Singles (Draw). She also played with and against George, but the database has no records of those matches.

Barbara Chittenden's career croquet record and other sortable data can be perused by clicking HERE.


Incidentally, croquet also leads us to the discovery of another child of the Chittendens, based on this excerpt from a 2008 story, "From the bibliographer's casebook: A ripping yarn with a happy ending " by David Drazin, found at Croquet World Online. Regarding books of rare croquet drawings done by artist Horace Francis Crowther-Smith [one of which is seen, right, a 1912 image of famous former champion Lily Gower], the author writes [my emphasis]:

These were the books of 1911 and 1912 that were donated to the Association by Margaret Payton on behalf of Barbara and Joan Chittenden, mother and daughter, past members of Compton Croquet Club, Eastbourne.

The article continues:

Roger Wood of Compton told me the circumstances in which Margaret Payton first brought the Chittenden gift to the notice of the club. In the early years of the last century Barbara Chittenden was very close to Nora, widow of the Rev George Frederick Handel Elvey, a past Croquet Association chairman. She may well have received Crowther's work from the Elveys. But how they got into the Rev Elvey's hands in the first place remains a mystery.


Of Chittenden's relationship with other players, the 1957 Devonshire Park photograph with which we've been so obsessed here tells the tale.

In the center of the front row, her face raised to the camera, we see Barbara in a white dress. Seated to her left is her dear friend Nora Elvey, mentioned above. To her right, wearing a dark suit, we see Agnes Mills, sister of George.

And for those of you who've been following the last few entries here, next to Mrs. Elvey, to her left, we see Aimee Reckitt, wife of Maurice. And to Agnes's right (our left), we see Lily Gower from above, or Mrs. R. C. J. Beaton as she was known in 1957!

Am I wrong in assuming these smiling women were all, as it seems, very close? Or is the fact that these nodding acquaintances all just by chance happened to end up next to each other in the front row of a group photograph simply another in a string of astonishing coincidences that revolve around the Mills family?

Anyway, we can chalk up yet another possible coincidence to the list above: Croquet.

We don't find H. F. Chittenden himself among the players populating the lawns from Budleigh to Compton. While Barbara played, he presumably was out birding, at least until he passed away in the spring of 1975.

It would not surprise me in the least to find that George Mills at some point had been employed by Hugh as a schoolmaster at Newlands School. But we cannot know for sure, even though Newlands [below, right] is still operating today.

From Lisa Sewell of Newlands, I received this message regarding the possibility of George's past employment:

Unfortunately Newlands went briefly in to administration in 2006, [and] at this time all records were lost or destroyed so I have very little information on anything prior to this date.

Barbara May Chittenden left us on 11 December 1987 in Lewes, Sussex, at the age of 91, many years after the passing of the Mills siblings.

Did George Mills teach at Newlands? We may never know...

Looking at Mr. E. A. Roper and Ladycross School

As we wrap things up here at Who Is George Mills? let's take another quick look at one of our favorite coincidences regarding the life of George Mills: His association with Seaford, East Sussex.

Is it odd that we've never stumbled upon any sort of relationship between Mills and, say, Leighton Buzzard, Great Yarmouth, or Newscastle Emlyn at all, but other places do seem to crop up a great deal, while Seaford has?

Today we'll look at a croquet-related connection between George Mills and Seaford.

As we know from the indomitable Barry McAleenan, the 1957 Devonshire Park photograph that has been of such great interest to us here bears the likeness of Mr. E. A. "Tony" Roper, one time headmaster of Ladycross Catholic Boys' Preparatory School [above, left] in Seaford. We have also speculated that it may have been an acquaintance—or even friendship—kindled on the croquet lawns of southern England that led to Mills teaching at Ladycross for at least the summer term of 1956.

Was Mills simply there in a manner akin to Mr. Aloysius Quole ("Well, should you wish for some light reading, I can commend an excellent pamphlet on the life of the cheese-maggot"), the elderly replacement for fictitious schoolmaster Mr. Lloyd in the 1938 novel King Willow by Mills? Is it possible that Mills actually taught there longer, or at a previous time, a few years before? We don't know, but we do know a bit more about Mr. Roper.

Esme Antony Filomeno Roper was born in Christchurch, Hampshire, on 5 June 1895. The easiest information to glean regarding Roper is his service in the First World War as a 2nd Lieutenant in the 9th Battalion of the East Lancashire Regiment. Roper's address was listed in 1916 as "Ladycross, Seaford, Sussex," and his father named: A. F. Roper. This at the outset would indicate that Ladycross School was a longtime family-owned institution.

The London Gazette dated 16 October 1914 lists Esme Antony Roper in a section indicating, "The undermentioned to be Temporary Second Lieutenants. Dated 13 October 1914."

Roper's medal card indicates that he earned a "Badge" on 9 October 1916, and adds: "Refusal List/25." An additional entry reads: "2nd application through A. F. Roper (father) 22 – 4 – 17." The final entry on the card notes: "Further application 29th – 9 – 17 A. List 336."

I have been unable to discover what the "Refusal List" might have been.



Roper's father appears to have actually resided at Ladycross for a number of years after the war while Tony took up quarters elsewhere (with his bride, as we shall find). For example, the 1933 telephone directory that encompassed Seaford shows the following separate entries:


Roper, Alfred F, Ladycross . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Seaford 52

Roper, E. Antony, M.A., Cross Keys . . . . . . . . . . Seaford 89


This indicates that the younger Roper had earned a Master's Degree. Checking the 1956 Oxford University Calendar, we find an entry that reads: "Roper, Esme Antony Filomeno 1931." The 1957 yearbook includes the notation: "Oriel 1917," indicating that Roper had returned from the war and had matriculated in 1917.

Sir Francis Cowley Burnand's The Catholic Who's Who and Yearbook: Volume 35 contains the following entry: "ROPER, Esme Antony, MA. (Oxon.); Headmaster of Ladycross; yr.j. of AF Roper, MA. (d. 1935), founder of Ladycross 1894, and Isabel May, nee Hoffman: m. 1929, Dorothy Marie Gladys, yr.d. of late Alfred Ames, formerly of Ceylon; Educ: Downside; Oriel Coll., Oxford (1st cl. Classical Hons); served W. War 1 as 2/Lt. E. Lanes Regt.; Publ.: Ladycross Motets. Address: Ladycross, Seaford, Sussex."

The Downside Review (Volumes 35-36) in 1916 contains the following entry in a list of soldiers: "Roper, Esme Antony F., April 1910-July 1914, 2nd Lieut., 9th East Lancashire Regiment."

So Roper [right] was an "Old Gregorian" from Downside School, a Catholic independent school located in Stratton-on-the-Fosse, Somerset, as well as having taken degrees at Oxford.

In addition, we see reference above to a publication entitled Ladycross Motets (Cary & Co, 1947), which is listed thusly at amazon.co.uk:

Ladycross Motets for general use four Voices (and Organ). Book 1, etc by E. Anthony [sic] Roper (Unknown Binding - 1947)

The music is still available through Banks Music Publications.

Once again, we easily can see no less than six very commonly occurring "coincidental" links to George Mills: Attendance at Oxford, a connection to Sussex (often Seaford), an interest in the performing arts (especially music), a boys' preparatory school, croquet, and a devotion to Catholicism.

In regard to the Devonshire Park image mentioned above, Barry Mc indicated to us that: "E.A. 'Tony' Roper was the former (till 1954) headmaster of Ladycross."

Retiring in 1954, Roper most likely still had influence at the school that his family had founded and run for exactly 60 years, even after he had indicated a preference for spending his time upon England's croquet lawns. If Ladycross had needed a teacher in 1956 and Mills was an acquaintance, George's appearance at Ladycross having been a result of some connection between the men seems probable.

We know Mills played from at least 1957 (although there are no complete records for him in the database at the Croquet Association) through the very last game of croquet I can find George playing on 26 June 1970. As far as we know, Mills never played Roper, but the latter played George's sisters on three occasions, having beaten Agnes Mills once, while having been defeated by Violet Mills twice.

[For a compilation Roper's croquet record and other information, click HERE.]

To where exactly did Roper retire? On 8 April 1960, the R.M.M.V. Winchester Castle, of the Union-Castle Mail S.S. Co. Ltd., steamed into Southampton from Durban, South Africa, bearing the passengers Esme Antony Roper, retired, and Dorothy Marie Roper, housewife, born 19 November 1888. The couple's address is listed as "Ladymead, Hurstpierpoint, Sussex."

Roper passed away in Surrey early in 1979 at the age of 83. Ladycross School already had closed in 1977 and was demolished.


For more about Ladycross, visit: http://www.ehgp.com/ladycross/


Next time, we'll cross Seaford and visit another local, longtime, family educational institution there, Newlands School. Stay tuned…