The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 12 (of 12)Hazlitt, William
General
The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 12 (of 12)
Hazlitt, William
English essays -- 19th century
The Scotch nation are a body-corporate. They hang together like a swarm
of bees. I do not know how it may be among themselves, but with us they
are all united as one man. They are not straggling individuals, but
embodied, formidable abstractions—determined personifications of the
land they come from. A Scotchman gets on in the world, because he is not
one, but many. He moves in himself a host, drawn up in battle-array, and
armed at all points against all impugners. He is a double existence—he
stands for himself and his country. Every Scotchman is bond and surety
for every other Scotchman—he thinks nothing Scotch foreign to him. If
you see a Scotchman in the street, you may be almost sure it is another
Scotchman he is arm in arm with; and what is more, you may be sure they
are talking of Scotchmen. Begin at the Arctic Circle, and they take
Scotland in their way back. Plant the foot of the compasses in the
meridian, and they turn it by degrees to ‘Edina’s darling seat’—true as
the needle to the Pole. If you happen to say it is a high wind, they say
there are high winds in Edinburgh. Should you mention Hampstead or
Highgate, they smile at this as a local prejudice, and remind you of the
Calton Hill. The conversation wanders and is impertinent, unless it
hangs by this loop. It ‘runs the great mile, and is still at home.’ You
would think there was no other place in the world but Scotland, but that
they strive to convince you at every turn of its superiority to all
other places. Nothing goes down but Scotch Magazines and Reviews, Scotch
airs, Scotch bravery, Scotch hospitality, Scotch novels, and Scotch
logic. Some one the other day at a literary dinner in Scotland
apologised for alluding to the name of Shakespear so often, because he
was not a Scotchman. What a blessing that the Duke of Wellington was not
a Scotchman, or we should never have heard the last of him! Even Sir
Walter Scott, I understand, talks of the Scotch novels in all companies;
and by waving the title of the author, is at liberty to repeat the
subject _ad infinitum_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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