An Unlikely Connection: Daphne du Maurier and A.G. Macdonell by Sophie Reid
A. G. Macdonell (photograph copyright the National Portrait Gallery)
I’ll never forget the day that I scurried home from my grandparents’ house, a plastic bag of du Maurier paperbacks clutched in my hand. I’d read Rebecca and fallen in love with it, and my grandmother, an avid reader, loaned me some of her du Maurier collection to continue my new fascination. Here was where I read some of du Maurier’s best loved novels including The King’s General, Jamaica Inn, My Cousin Rachel and Frenchman’s Creek, for the first time. Memory is fickle, and I don’t remember which novels I encountered here (apart from The King’s General, which has remained a favourite), but the feeling that I’d won some sort of lottery never faded.
Daphne du Maurier was dearly loved by my grandmother and became vastly important in me. It was only years later, long after her death, that I turned my attention to another author who was profoundly important to her, Uncle Archie. Uncle Archie, or A.G. Macdonell, was born in 1895 in India to Scottish parents. The younger brother of my great-grandfather, A.G. Macdonell, is mostly remembered for his 1933 novel, England, Their England, an autobiographical satire novel that was awarded the James Tait prize and has consistently remained in print. The famous cricket scene has remained beloved by many, including the broadcaster and writer Ian Hislop, who most recently adapted another of Macdonell’s novels, Autobiography of a Cad, into a play.
In 1926, Macdonell married his first wife, Mona Mann. This marriage lasted over ten years, and Macdonell’s only child, Jenny, was born in 1929. Mona was the daughter of society portrait artist Harrington Mann and often appeared in his paintings as a child alongside her sisters. A Scottish painter, the couple perhaps met because of Macdonell’s maternal grandfather, a Scottish collector and arts patron. Harrington Mann painted a portrait of the teenage du Maurier in 1923. In 1977, the portrait was used on the cover of Growing Pains, published by Gollancz, Daphne’s biography of her early years. The portrait can now be seen in the du Maurier museum at Jamaica Inn.
Incidentally, Macdonell’s first novel, The Bleston Mystery, co-written with fellow mystery writer Milward Kennedy, was published by Gollancz in 1928. One other of Macdonell’s novels was published by Gollancz in 1929, a golden age mystery novel called The Seven Stabs, written under a pseudonym John Cameron. The other seven mystery novels that Macdonell wrote (under the names Neil Gordon and John Cameron) were put out by different publishers before landing at Macmillan, who he remained with for the rest of his life. Du Maurier moved to Gollancz with Jamaica Inn and stayed there for the rest of her career. As Macdonell left his crime writing career behind after the success of England, Their England, it seems unlikely that the pair of them would have come across each other at a publisher’s office.
As well as a novelist and playwright, Macdonell was a successful journalist. In 1933, after the unexpected success of England, Their England, Archie joined The Bystander as a regular contributor. Starting out on the book review pages, he later moved to writing a regular column on current affairs and politics titled “The Passing Hour”. Macdonell continued to write for The Bystander every week until his death in 1941, missing only a handful of weeks when he travelled to America and India in the mid 30s. The Bystander is, of course, well known by du Maurier readers as the place where her first short stories and poems were published in the late 1920s. The magazine was edited by her uncle at the time, William Comyns Beaumont, and launched her career.
In 1936, Macdonell reviewed Jamaica Inn for The Observer, part of The Manchester Guardian (later to become The Guardian after its move to London). He was a regular contributor to The Observer, writing reviews for its book pages in the mid-1930s. In his review of Jamaica Inn, he writes:
“What a strange and wonderful sensation it is to pick up a novel by a talented writer and find that it contains neither a vast amount of psychological intricacy nor a picture of misery and bankruptcy in Northern England. Miss du Maurier has actually had the nerve to devote her talents to the telling of a real story, complete with blood, iron, heroine, villain, and all.”
After recapping the story, he concludes by saying:
“Miss du Maurier has told her story splendidly. It is so vivid, so full of energy, so packed with excitement that you instinctively shut your eyes to the improbabilities and weaknesses […] ”Jamaica Inn” is capital entertainment.”
Unfortunately, I have not found any other occasions of Macdonell discussing du Maurier’s work any further – I would have loved to know what he thought of Rebecca!
Du Maurier’s connection to The London Library is well known. She didn’t join the library, however, until after the war, becoming a member in 1952, and sent for books to be delivered to Menabilly for her writing and research (as a member myself living in Fowey, I am delighted to be able to have books sent down by post, and I like to think that Daphne experienced the same thrill. It is, of course, much easier to access the catalogue and order books these days!).
Macdonell became a member of the library in 1928. The library was not far from his London flat, and I imagine that he used the library to research his novels and particularly his non-fiction book Napoleon and his Marshals, lauded as being well-researched and still regarded as one of the best books on the subject.
I do not think that the two writers ever met – they moved in different literary and social circles, had very different personalities (Macdonell greatly enjoyed a party, whereas du Maurier avoided them as much as possible!), and wrote very different books. But I like to think of their lives and careers moving in parallel, with occasional overlaps. And you never know, they may have crossed paths! But for me, the two writers will be forever entwined with the memory of my grandmother.
@agmacdonell (Instagram)
© Sophie Reid, September 2025.