Weary? Jaded? Read Goodbye, Mr. Chips. This short novel (just over 100 pages), written by James Hilton in 1934, is a wonderful work of literature–wonderful because in the hands of a lesser writer it would have been mawkish. But Hilton’s portrayal of a beloved English schoolmaster is genuinely touching.

The story begins in 1870, with note taken that it was the year that the Franco-Prussian War began. A young Mr. Chipping (he is never given a first name) applies for a teaching position at Brookfield, an English public school for boys (actually private, as the British have a thing about labeling private schools public ones). He is a young man of 22 with only one year of teaching experience at another school; he is accepted for the position and thereafter is only known as Mr. Chips, or more often just plain Chips by everyone, schoolboys and fellow masters alike.

Chips was a shy type who remained a bachelor for 48 years, but in 1896 on a holiday trip to England’s Lake District he met and immediately fell in love with a young woman, Katherine Bridges, age 25. Shortly thereafter they were married and she returned with him to Brookfield.

He had never met anyone like her. He had always thought that the modern type, this "new woman" business would repel him; and here she was...And she, too, had never met anyone like him. She had always thought that middle-aged men who read the Times and disapproved of modernity were terrible bores; yet here he was, claiming her interest and attention far more than youths of her own age.

Chips’s new wife was an instant hit at Brookfield, she was genuinely admired by everyone. Her entry into his life profoundly affected his whole being.

She made him, to all appearances, a new man...His eyes gained sparkle...He began to feel a greater sureness...When he had first come to Brookfield he had aimed to be loved, honored, and obeyed–but obeyed, at any rate. Obedience he had secured, and honor had been granted him; but only now came love, the sudden love of boys for a man who was kind without being soft...

Tragically, only two years after their marriage Katherine died during childbirth, along with their child.

During the following 35 years the story is filled with Chips’s good-natured day-to-day life with his boys–he taught the sons of many of his earlier boys. In the style at English public schools of the era, he addressed his boys by their last name. Most of the time he was a mild-mannered man, but on occasion he could get his back up: when a new headmaster by the name of Ralston tried to sack him for being too old-fashioned and out of touch with modern methods of pedagogy, he stood his ground.

"I don’t–umph--intend to resign–and you can–umph–do what you like about it."

(The "umph", a sort of throat clearing, was always part of his speech.) When some of his boys got wind of the situation, they wrote about it to their fathers, some of whom had been his earlier boys. These fathers, and some other influential men, saw to it that Chips would not be made to resign. In fact, Ralston himself left because of the incident.

Chips’s remembrances of his former boys who died in battle during the Boer War and, later, the first World War are beautiful.

Finally, in 1933, at age 85, his life comes to an end. For twenty years he had been living in quarters very near Brookfield and cared for by his landlady, Mrs. Wickett. In his last moments he reflects on his too brief life with Katherine and on his many experiences at Brookfleld, mostly with the generations of his boys.

And, for that matter, (he thought of) the things he had not done, and would never do now that he had left them too late–he had never traveled by air, for instance, and he had never been to a talkie-show.

Then he falls off into an eternal sleep. The previous night a boy named Linford had called on Chips at his rooms (Chips encouraged his boys to drop by to chat).

"Brookfield will never forget his lovableness," said Cartwright (the current headmaster) in a speech to the School. Which was absurd, because all things are forgotten in the end. But Linford, at any rate, will remember and tell the tale: "I said good-bye to Chips the night before he died..."

It is said that Hilton wrote the story in four days, basing it on his father, who had been a headmaster at an English school such as Brookfield. It was made into a movie in 1938 starring Robert Donat as Mr. Chips and again (I believe) some time in the 1970's for television by a British producer.

To return to what Chips realized that he had not done, it should be remembered that most people in 1933 hadn't flown in a plane, and probably there were also a fair number who hadn't been to a "talkie." It so happens that I had done both by 1933: my mother took me to an "Amos and Andy" movie around 1930, and in 1933 my father took me on a plane ride over our little town in North Carolina. The plane took off from and landed in a cow pasture; it cost $1 and lasted about 15 minutes. My father and I sat in the front cockpit of the open-cockpit biplane, buckled in with a seatbelt and with the pilot in the rear cockpit. I wore a Lindbergh cap, which was the thing for young boys then, with goggles and flaps that snapped together under the chin.

However, as with Chips, there are some things I have never done: play a video game (although I spend much time at my computer), watch an in-flight movie (although I am a frequent flier), and wear a t-shirt with any thing imprinted on it (with the exception of one during my freshman year in college that had a small patch with the football mascot on it).

I am aware of three other of Hilton’s works: Lost Horizon, Random Harvest, and Was It Murder? I didn’t care for Lost Horizon–I found the Shangri-La plot too fanciful; Random Harvest, which was made into a movie starring Ronald Coleman and Greer Garson, I enjoyed very much; Was It Murder?, set in–what else?–an English boys’ school, I found entertaining, although it suffered from a shortcoming of quite a few murder mysteries: too much yacking by the guilty party in the last chapter as to how and why the murder was committed. This usually results from the need of the author to tie up loose ends.

Thinking of Mr. Chips reminds me of a professor I had in college; just like Mr. Chips, he addressed students by their surname (without Mr. or Ms.). Upon learning of his retirement some years later, I sent him a note for the occasion, to which he replied:

Dear (surname):

I want to thank you most deeply for your kind letter in regard to my retirement. It makes me happy to know that you think kindly of me and of our days together...I can sincerely reciprocate and assure you of the memory of your being in my classes. It is the appreciation of boys like you that make a teacher’s life seem worthwhile...

Most affectionately yours,