William McGonagall: Collected Poems

William McGonagall

Collected Poems

This ebook edition published in 2011 by
Birlinn Limited
West Newington House
Newington Road
Edinburgh
EH9 1QS
www.birlinn.co.uk

First published in 2011 by Birlinn Ltd

Introduction and note on Jack o’ the Cudgel   Chris Hunt, 2006

The moral right of Alistair Moffat and James F. Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.

ebook ISBN: 978-0-85790-073-9

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

CONTENTS

Introduction

POETIC GEMS

MORE POETIC GEMS

LAST POETIC GEMS

JACK O’ THE CUDGEL
                or
   The Hero of a Hundred Fights

Index of first lines

Index of poem titles

INTRODUCTION

William McGonagall’s early life is shrouded in an uncertainty largely of his own making. The accounts he left us of his childhood contradict both each other and the few official records in which his name appears. He was probably born in 1825, the son of Irish immigrants Charles and Margaret McGonagall. An early census record gives his place of birth as Ireland, but the poet always claimed to have been born in Edinburgh. Be that as it may, the McGonagall family led a transitory existence, stopping in Maybole, Edinburgh and Glasgow before finally settling in the west end of Dundee. During this time, young William received perhaps a year’s formal schooling. Once established in Dundee, William was soon apprenticed to follow the trade of his father, that of a hand-loom weaver.

In 1846, he married Jean King and the young couple set up home together, starting a family that would eventually number five sons and two daughters. This appears to have been a relatively prosperous period in McGonagall’s life. Although weaving was a job increasingly performed by machines, there were still jobs of a complexity that called for the skills of a weaver, and as a skilled worker McGonagall could command higher wages and status.

His evenings were spent reading, and he developed a particular liking for the works of Shakespeare, committing to memory the parts of Richard III, Hamlet, Othello and Macbeth. It was in this latter role that he made his first stage appearance, and gave us the first glimpse, perhaps, of what was to come. A local theatrical impresario was persuaded, having received a substantial advance payment raised by McGonagall’s workmates, to allow him to take the part of Macbeth for a night in a professional production. Encouraged by the applause from an audience packed with his friends, McGonagall was convinced that his fellow cast members were envious of his success. When the final fight scene reached its climax, an exasperated Macduff was quite unable to get the Scottish king to die, and was eventually soundly beaten himself! McGonagall was carried in triumph from the theatre, having given Shakespeare’s tragedy a new ending. Scenes from Macbeth would remain a key part of his repertoire in later years, but would usually be played solo!

And so McGonagall’s life progressed for many years, working, reading and entertaining friends. He was fast becoming a pillar of conventional Victorian respectability: a family man, a devout churchgoer and an ardent supporter of the temperance movement.

The 1870s must have been a stressful time in the McGonagall household. Weaving work was becoming harder to find and Margaret, William’s oldest daughter, brought shame on the family by giving birth to an illegitimate son, who joined the rest of the seven children squeezed into the family home. Out of this chaos, perhaps even because of it, came the turning point in McGonagall’s life:

The most startling incident in my life was the time I discovered myself to be a poet, which was in the year 1877 [ . . . ] I seemed to feel as it were a strange kind of feeling stealing over me, and remained so for about five minutes. A flame, as Lord Byron has said, seemed to kindle up my entire frame, along with a strong desire to write poetry; and I felt so happy, so happy, that I was inclined to dance, then I began to pace backwards and forwards in the room, trying to shake off all thought of writing poetry; but the more I tried, the more strong the sensation became. It was so strong, I imagined that a pen was in my right hand, and a voice crying, “Write! Write!”

A poem was quickly penned in praise of local preacher George Gilfillan and delivered to a local newspaper. It must have been a slow news day, for the effort was duly published and McGonagall’s career as a poet had begun. More works followed fast: an ode to Shakespeare and one to Burns being early examples. McGonagall soon realised that, like many great artists, he would need a patron to support him while he wrote. Never one to do things by half measures, McGonagall went straight to the top: a letter seeking royal support was dispatched to Queen Victoria herself.

A lesser man might have found her response – a polite thankyou letter from a royal functionary – disappointing. William, however, took this in his stride.