Josephine Tey Read online

  By 1909 the IRA had completed the process of becoming a burgh school, open to anyone, but the fees were still in place.2 With three daughters now at school, Colin and Josephine had to make some adjustments.3 Colin moved his fruiterer business again. He had originally rented both his living accommodation (the flat at number 67) and shop (at numbers 55 and 57) from a family called Sutherland. The odd numbers ran down one side of Castle Street, with some relating to flats above the shops, so 55 and 57 were next door to each other. Colin had then expanded next door to 53, which, with a higher rental value of £24, was larger than 55 and 57 (which came in at £18). Number 53 was owned by a John Mackay, so Colin was now renting business premises from two separate people. However, by 1909 Colin’s original landlord Duncan Sutherland had died, and Colin moved, for the same rent, into another of John Mackay’s properties: the shop just one door down at number 49 – so Colin was now renting numbers 49 and 53 Castle Street. This was not to be his last move.

  Family circumstances also changed again for the MacKintosh family, as Colin’s mother, his eldest daughter’s namesake Elizabeth (Betsey) Maclennan, died on 31st January 1910.4 Whatever his relationship had been with his mother before she died, after her death Colin paid for a handsome memorial to both his parents in Tomnahurich cemetery. If he couldn’t establish the Gaelic-speaking former crofters creditably in Inverness society in life, he was certainly going to make sure they had their rightful place in death. A tall column with an urn on top, the memorial is situated almost opposite the headstone for Elizabeth’s other grandfather, Peter Horne, and very close to the headstone for Elizabeth’s little cousins, Josephine and Elizabeth Jeans. Colin wished to stay close to his wife’s family even in death, showing how much he had been accepted into the slightly wealthier Horne family’s lives. There may also have been an element of Colin wishing to show people how well he had done: the first name on his parents’ memorial is not theirs, but his: ‘Erected by Colin MacKintosh, Fruit Merchant, Inverness,’ it proclaims in large letters. Colin, like his daughter Bessie, was not immune to the snobbery and class division he encountered as he made more money. The memorial is then dedicated to the memory of his parents John MacKintosh and Elizabeth Maclennan, and Colin made sure to reference their original home: ‘Both natives of Shieldaig of Applecross’.

  Josephine’s family was also hit by tragedy, as in March 1910 her unlucky sister Mary, who had lost two daughters in infancy, died of a heart attack.5 She was in her early forties. Mary and her husband Robert had had ten children, though not all had survived infancy. Josephine and Mary had been close, and it must have been hard for Josephine to lose her older sister. She may have done what she could to help Robert, but the widower found consolation a year later, remarrying to a Jessie Gillie Dunlop. Keeping close to a brother-in-law who has remarried is more difficult than staying in touch with a sister and brother-in-law, and family bonds between Bessie and her cousins loosened as well, though Josephine and her daughters did make an effort to keep in touch with Mary’s children.

  Another of Beth’s cousins was to die in infancy in 1910. Beth’s aunt Mary died only one day after Beth’s cousin, Robert Ellis Horne, aged only five-and-a-half. Robert Ellis was the son of Mary Dewar Macdonald and Josephine’s younger brother Peter, the Printer Compositor. Peter worked with Robert Jeans, the recent widower, so it must have been tough at their workplace at the Northern Chronicle, with two of the workforce suffering bereavements so close together. On the official register of deaths in Inverness, the death of Mary Jeans (née Horne) is recorded on the same page as her nephew’s. It was a difficult time for Beth’s mother Josephine, to lose a sister and a young nephew in such a short space of time, and it strengthened Josephine and Colin’s resolve to do their best for their own young daughters as they progressed through their school years.

  The new rector of the IRA in 1909 was Gilbert Watson.6 He only lasted a year, and was replaced quickly by George Morrison, so Beth’s time in the school saw her work under three headmasters (the first was William J. Watson). George Morrison, who was rector for most of Beth’s senior school years, had previously been senior Classics master at Robert Gordon’s College in Aberdeen, and was, several years later, to return to that institution as rector. Classics was one of the subjects Beth was good at, and Morrison made sure the standard of teaching was high in his specialist subject. Morrison was also a keen musician, and music was offered as an extra at the school (for a cost). Beth and her sisters took music, learning the piano, while in 1909 Beth was awarded a ‘Very Good’ mark (the highest the IRA awarded) for her singing.7 Her background in music was to surface in an unusual, and little known, way when Beth first started writing, but, although she was obviously well-grounded in the technicalities, she wasn’t an outstanding musician. There are numerous well-informed references in her writing to music, from early short stories to the island concert (with its comments on the singing) in The Singing Sands, but music is generally shown as being more of a background activity, or concerts seen as a good social meeting place.

  Rector George Morrison’s interest in quality teaching is shown by his later appointment as MP for Scottish Universities, a post he held after his retirement from teaching.8 The circumstance of having three rectors in quick succession may have unsettled the school staff – it wasn’t typical of the time – but many of the teachers were popular local figures, whose names are still remembered today, such as the PE teacher Donald Dallas, who was also a local Highland Games competitor. The teachers were mainly male, though female teachers increased in numbers after the First World War began, another general change which mirrors Beth MacKintosh’s own life experience, as she became a teacher. Although the school was co-educational, girls and boys were not taught together in every subject (PE was not mixed, for example, and needlework was girls only). Education was compulsory for all in Scotland up to the age of fourteen, and academic children could stay at school longer if they wished – free places and bursaries were available for those whose work was of a high standard.

  Daughter of Josephine MacKintosh, the former teacher, and Colin, lover of literature, Beth always maintained that she ‘began to write very soon after she began to walk’, and literacy and learning were highly praised by her parents.9 She was an academic child, winning several prizes during her time at school, but she does not seem to have left much impression on her teachers and classmates, and neither do they seem to have impressed her much. Beth had a talent for making and keeping friends and was to keep in touch with performers and backroom staff from her later plays for years, even when she wasn’t able to live nearby them – but she was also selective in her friendships. Once she was your friend, she was a friend for life, but it took time for her to get to know people.

  Mairi MacDonald’s biographical essay on Gordon Daviot has its faults, but it is generally fair and well-researched, and it does provide a unique picture of what Beth was like at school. Mairi remembered ‘Bessie MacK’, particularly good at PE, especially gymnastics, though not necessarily always interested in other lessons, a ‘happy, very active young person, trim in her sailor suit with its braided collar; her light brown hair always smoothly brushed – and ever ready to break into a most attractive, lively smile’. Mairi also tells the story of how, when asked by the rector of her former school if anything from her schooldays had helped her to become a writer, Beth had replied ‘with a bright smile, “Oh, I have no doubt whatsoever that the four-leaved clovers I so often found at interval-time, in the playground, were responsible for my great good luck”’.10 Although this has to be taken with some reservations, it’s true that Beth doesn’t seem to have loved school, and certainly never referred to any particular teacher as having inspired her. Since no one at the school picked up on her writing talent, there seems no reason why she should credit them with any inspiration. Beth, with her ‘humble’ origins and quiet demeanour, was exactly the sort of child who could easily be overlooked: she wouldn’t cause a teacher any trouble, and could be relied on
to work without much supervision or interference.

  There is a persistent idea, perhaps based on a too-literal reading of Mairi’s writings coupled with Beth’s later choice of PE as a specialist subject, that Beth wasn’t terribly academic. To anyone who has read her books carefully – not only the mystery novels but also her historical work – this is clearly not true. The attitude that a ‘games teacher’, as Beth was to become, could not write plays is another version of snobbery: people, especially girls, are often ‘supposed’ to be good at either sport or intellectual pursuits, an artificial split between the body and mind. This attitude would not have endeared Beth’s teachers and schoolmates to her, but she did keep up links with her old school, making a later contribution to the school magazine, for example. At school, Beth won prizes and merit in Art, and in Music, which she took as an extra subject. She had consistently high marks for English and French. Beth’s command of and interest in English is clearly shown by her writing career, while she developed her knowledge of France and French in her teens and twenties, and features French characters and settings in short stories and novels. Beth’s Drawing was ‘quite good’, and other arts and crafts, like Needlework, ‘very good’. In Physics she had notably lower marks, though she later successfully worked hard on science subjects, particularly Biology, in order to pass her college course. Her Maths marks were steady, if not brilliant. She was a hard-working good all-rounder, probably among the smarter students, with a definite leaning towards English and the Arts, but not standing out. She was at that level of ability where she was good enough not to need help and so suffered from a lack of attention from teachers. Her talents for research and writing were never picked up.

  The education given at the IRA was rigorous and to a high standard and there is evidence throughout all of Beth’s later writing of this excellent academic grounding, from her thorough knowledge of history and religious education to her use of French and her wide-ranging and open-minded interest in a variety of subjects. When she is interested in a topic, she explores it thoroughly, reading up on its background and asking for help from those who know more. In The Singing Sands when Grant wants to know more about the Hebrides, he immediately goes to a library, where he peruses a selection of books and asks the librarian for advice. In The Daughter of Time, Grant sifts through historical evidence using both primary and secondary sources, and is able to argue from cause to effect, rather than repeating a series of facts. Girls like Beth MacKintosh and Mairi MacDonald expected this sort of education – questioning, rigorous and encouraging private study – as standard, and the image of the ill-educated Highland girl – or the exception fighting against the rule – shown in some contemporary early twentieth-century literature (e.g. by Lewis Grassic Gibbon) is just plain wrong. It was a stereotype Beth MacKintosh would fight in both her private life and in her writing. The popular idea that in the 1900s girls maybe learnt a bit of drawing, French and music was simply not true in Scotland.

  Beth’s interests changed as she went through the school. She always loved writing, but she also enjoyed and gained prizes and merit in drawing, and in later life she said that she had considered art school, though had eventually decided that her work was not of a high enough standard. Her knowledge of art is shown in her writing, with her second full-length West End play, The Laughing Woman, being based on the life of an artist and sculptor. Other artists feature prominently in her books, such as Lee in To Love and Be Wise. The IRA gained a new art department in 1912, and publicity photos of the new department show serious female pupils with long skirts, long-sleeved white shirts and neatly pinned-up hair, drawing at easels, while the walls of the classroom are covered with framed paintings, and fruit, vases and busts for still-life drawing are all around.

  Beth’s high marks in English and History are particularly notable given her later career as a writer. English literature was well-taught at the IRA, with the English teacher an Oxford graduate with a particular interest in Shakespeare, but the real interest lies in the linking of the two subjects. The fact that History and English were taught together at the IRA reveals one source of Elizabeth’s working methods. Her first breakthrough play was a historical drama, and for her it must have been natural to consider a historical topic suitable for writing – the modern day speech rhythms which she used in Richard of Bordeaux, which were so revolutionary at the time, could be traced back to this early association of History as a creative subject. The history that she was taught at school was also different from today’s Scottish curriculum in that it focused heavily on British and Empire history. When Elizabeth came to write her plays and novels, it was the English kings Richard II and III who had captured her imagination. Her interest in Scottish figures, such as Claverhouse (subject of her only full-length factual biography) and local figure Duncan Forbes, was heavily weighted towards a view of them within a British context. Now, even referring to kings by their Scottish or English numbering (i.e., James I or VI, or Elizabeth I or II) is a political issue. This has the effect of making some of Beth’s historical ideas – especially in her biography of Claverhouse, or in The Singing Sands – seem not only dated but also even anti-Scottish.

  Another subject held particular interest for Beth: Physical Education, or PE. A new gym (as well as the new art block) was opened at the IRA in 1912, when Beth was in her final years of senior school – the age when she was starting to think about her future career.11 PE was an important part of the curriculum in the early twentieth century, and took a slightly different form than it would today, developing quickly from the old-fashioned ‘drill’, where pupils were marched up and down like soldiers. There are some posed photos of the gym opening, showing girls of around Beth’s age in the PE kit of the day: a long dark pinafore sort of garment, with wide knee-length skirts for easy movement, a long-sleeved white shirt underneath, and comfortable gym shoes. Long hair is neatly tied back, and the girls demonstrate the new gym equipment: parallel bars, a horse, beam and mats. This is the same sort of equipment Beth was later to describe in her book Miss Pym Disposes. Other sports popular at the IRA at the time were football and cricket. Nowadays, football is still played, of course, but rugby is also popular, while the idea of a Scottish school playing a lot of cricket seems strange, since this is now a very English sport. But at the beginning of the twentieth century there was a real games cult – the Boer War had highlighted the poor physical condition of many potential soldiers due to bad diet and overwork, and, as the First World War approached, the need to train the next generation became ever more imperative.

  With schooling compulsory for all, this idea of PE as an integral part of school life had grown, and this is the time when many popular girls’ school stories were written, with authors like Angela Brazil creating the idea of the hockey-playing schoolgirl, who always ‘played the game’. Games, or PE, were not just about physical education, they were a moral training ground, a particularly British idea, where pupils learnt to ‘play the game’, following the rules of sportsmanship. The lessons themselves would have been different from today not only in their theory but also in practice, as gym teachers were concerned also with, for example, their pupils’ posture and any physiotherapy needs. A physical training teacher had to have a broad academic background and their work was taken very seriously; they were not just the people who led sports.

  In the academic session of 1912–1913, when she was sixteen, Beth was awarded a final year’s bursary as a result of her good academic marks. This financial award helped with school fees for her last three years of school. As Jean was also in secondary school, and their youngest sister Etta was now eight years old and making her way through primary school, this helped Colin and Josephine MacKintosh to pay for their daughters’ education. The award was made solely on academic merit not family circumstance; Jean, who left school after her fifth year, did not receive a similar bursary.

  The final years of Beth’s secondary education, however, were coloured for her not just by her progress in studyi
ng, but also by a significant change in family circumstances, and by the lead up to and the outbreak of World War I.

  In summer 1914, Beth was getting ready to go into Class VI, her final year of school. She turned eighteen on 25th July 1914, and war was declared three days later, a few weeks before the end of the summer holiday. The IRA had a longer break than most schools, a legacy of its days as a private institution, and those first days of war were mixed up for Beth with her birthday, the long summer, and the romance of patriotism. The outbreak of the First World War was met with a huge outpouring of patriotism, and young men from Inverness joined others across the country in rushing to sign up to join the armed services in what became known as the ‘August Madness’. Many of the young men Beth knew from the year ahead of her at the IRA left school and went straight to volunteer and sign up to help the war effort.

  Newspapers from the time show how the rhetoric around war has changed. In 1914, with no knowledge of what was to come in the trenches, it was all stirring speeches and Britishness, and an image of a short glorious war. Inverness then, as now, was an army town, with troops permanently stationed at Cameron Barracks and at Fort George, just along the coast, so the world of soldiers would not have been unknown to Beth – but even if she had been aware of some of the realities of war, at eighteen she didn’t fully appreciate them. For her, war initially meant great change in her home town, as the whole local area became an important military training ground, and it must also have meant the romance of her classmates and cousins signing up and parading through town in their new uniforms – kilts, of course, for the Highland regiments. Throughout her life, Beth was always greatly moved by regimental display, and her writing, particularly her early poems and her first novel, but also many of her later writing choices, was heavily influenced by the war.12