Internationally recognised art and literary critic, writer and cultural producer. Published in ELLE, Glamour, Esquire and Cosmopolitan; member of the Union of Writers.
Pelted with herring, lampooned by editors, and ignored by Queen Victoria herself, William McGonagall became the worst poet in all of British literature. However, he received a sort of immortality that few other literary figures can claim.
In Edinburgh’s Greyfriars Kirkyard, you may discover the grave of William Topaz McGonagall. At the same site, you will find many fans of J.K. Rowling lingering around. While creating the world of Harry Potter, the author made regular visits to this graveyard, taking names from the gravestones and using them for her own creations. The very competent and strict Professor Minerva McGonagall received her family name thanks to William McGonagall. This is a great paradox, since the author would have never heard his name if he had at least some of the professor’s qualities.
Born in 1825, McGonagall was a handloom weaver from Dundee. He had never learned anything about literary conventions, yet he had an enormous, almost titanium-strength ego. Long before he declared himself a poet, McGonagall felt that he was a great Shakespearean actor. According to local legend, one day he managed to convince a manager of a theatre to cast him in the title role in Macbeth; reportedly, McGonagall bribed him into doing it. However, when Macduff tried to “kill” him on stage, McGonagall just wouldn’t die. McGonagall kept struggling with Macduff until he was finally physically dragged off stage.
This inability to give up was to become a trademark feature of his life.
At the age of 52, in 1877, something akin to epiphany struck McGonagall. He reported that God told him to “write, write,” and that he was overcome by an irresistible urge to create poetry. God, however, neglected to teach him any knowledge concerning rhythm, rhyme, or metaphor.
McGonagall had no idea how good he was at making fun of himself. His unique poetic approach was to jam unbelievably awkward and literal statements into rhyme. One of his more famous poems, “The Tay Bridge Disaster,” documents a terrible train accident that occurred in 1879 which resulted in 75 deaths. In the hands of a talented poet, this poem would be an elegy. In McGonagall’s hands, it reads like an engineer’s manual written by someone having a nervous breakdown:
“Here I will close my lay / And bid farewell to the world without any dismay / Because your central girders would not give way / At least many sensible men will say / Had they been supported on either side by buttresses / At least many sensible men agree”
This poem is awful in the best possible way. It is like a literary car crash – you just can’t look away. It has something called a Tommy Wiseau Effect, named after the filmmaker of the infamously bad movie “The Room.” The movie is so unaware of its own failings that it is a complete success.
It is reported that he believed himself to be a poetic genius of equal status with William Shakespeare. However, his works met no success when he presented them to local newspapers’ editors. Upon being refused because of their lack of literary value, McGonagall used to fight back fiercely, praising the “masterpieces” he had created. He tried to prove his talent by traveling to Balmoral Castle on foot to request Queen Victoria for a meeting in order to serve her as Poet Laureate. The queen’s guards did not allow him inside.
Despite the refusal from the British crown, one day MacGonagall became a victim of another practical joke. Most probably, this time some local students were behind the scene. They sent him a letter pretending that King Thibaw Min of Burma appreciated his talent to such an extent that he decided to call him “Sir Topaz, Knight of the White Elephant of Burmah”.
This prank left its mark on McGonagall who used that title until death. To earn money to feed on, he recited his poetry in local pubs and circuses. People threw flour, stale bread, eggs, or even herring at him while he was paid 15 shillings a night. Regardless of ridicule and physical violence, he still had no doubts about his great talent.
He died in destitution in 1902, and without any headstone.
However, surprisingly enough, history was merciful to the Knight of the White Elephant. In the middle of the 20th century, he was embraced by the British comedian Spike Milligan who even played in a movie called The Great McGonagall along with Peter Sellers in 1974. His works have never ceased being republished. In 2009, a library poll conducted in Dundee ranked him second in popularity among Scottish poets, only behind Robert Burns. Now the city that used to throw fish at him even has a square named after him, and quotes from his poetry, misspelled by himself, are permanently inscribed into the pavement along the River Tay.
We remember him because perfection is admirable, but brilliant failure is legendary. William Topaz McGonagall demonstrated that one did not necessarily require talent for becoming immortal. All that one needed was an absolutely heroic inability to shut up.
