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News Analysis With a Sense of Humor

Scotland and England: Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?

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What looked like a kind of harmless beauty contest, the vote on Scottish independence in September is shaping up to be something quite otherwise: the death struggle for the United Kingdom. The polls are showing a surprising narrowing between those who would vote for Scotland to become an independent country and those who would vote for it to remain part of the United Kingdom, dominated as it is by England.
 
Since the Act of Union in 1707, England and Scotland have been one nation, but with important differences. For a start the Scots have maintained their own distinctive way of speaking, although it is unlikely that the Scots language can be revived or whether it should — you know when you are in Scotland. The country is predominantly Presbyterian with a substantial Catholic minority.
 
Scotland has its own legal system, based on Roman-Dutch law rather than English Common law, and it has kept alive the traditions of Scotland — sometimes enhanced by English commercial interest — such as the marketing of whisky, the celebrating of New Year, and the jokes about haggis.
 
The Scots always had their nationalists, including those who stole the Stone of Scone from Westminster Abbey on Christmas morning 1950, and took it back to Scotland. The 336-pound stone, according to one Celtic legend, was the pillow upon which the patriarch Jacob rested at Bethel, and for centuries was associated with the crowning of Scottish kings. Four months after the stone was stolen, it was returned to the abbey. And in 1996, the British government returned it to Scotland.
 
But Scottish nationalists have never posed a threat to the union with England; not that the Scots haven't always denigrated those living south of the border as “Sassenachs.”
 
In my experience, as someone brought up to respect Scotland’s traditions (its music, literature, and its brews and distilled spirits) the distinct disinterest of the two peoples in each other is quite dumbfounding.
 
The English will flock to the continent on their vacations, but not to Scotland. Once in Peebles, a town near Edinburgh, a friend asked if I was staying for a local masonic parade and festival. I asked if there would be a lot of English visitors. He replied: “I don't think so; they don't come here. And we're not very nice to them when they do.”
 
When my wife and I were planning our annual trip to Scotland, an otherwise well-traveled and erudite Englishwoman living in London asked us, “Why would you go there?” Think about how Canada is ignored in the United States.
 
Scotland is, in fact, a tourist treasure with great beauty, fabulous vistas and wonderful traditions, even if they get a periodic upgrading from the Scottish Tourist Board.
 
Probably the greatest period of harmony was ushered in by Queen Victoria, who liked Scotland a lot; after the death of her beloved husband, Prince Albert, she spent long periods in Balmoral Castle. Some even suggested she had a romantic relationship with her Highland manservant, John Brown. There are those who have suggested that if Queen Victoria had had the same affection for Ireland, it would not now be a separate country.
 
The present crisis has occurred because of the determination of two men: Scotland's first minister Alex Salmond and former British prime minister Tony Blair. Blair believed in the “devolution” of power to the regions. He was warned against this by his predecessor, John Major, who was appalled at the idea. “Utter folly,” he called it.
 
Salmond believed in independence for Scotland; it had been his life's passion. He was ready and when Scotland was granted a legislature of its own by Blair's Labor government in 1998, he saw the chance and began to push for referendum.
 
Like most divorces this one won't be easy, if it happens. Just a little over 5 million people live in Scotland (64 million live in England), but it occupies one third of the land mass of the United Kingdom.
 
Then there is the question of borders, currency, and the status of the Queen. The Scots want to keep the pound and the Queen. But if Scotland votes to quit the union, England might say no: Our pound, our Queen.
 
The case for Scotland staying in the union is economic, as was the case for them being coerced to join in the first place. The case for separation is nationalistic.
 
The patron saint of Scotland is St. Andrew, and the patron saint of England is St. George. They have stood together in war and peace for 300 of history's most remarkable years – an empire, the Industrial Revolution, and two world wars.
 
Now they stand apart — at the opposite sides of an impending referendum. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot,” as Robert Burns, poet and Scottish nationalist, wrote. The polls are not encouraging for unionists. — For the Hearst-New York Times Syndicate

Blame Robert Burns for Your New Year’s Hangover

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Most of you are going to drink more than usual on New Year’s Eve. For some of you, it will be the only time you drink in the year; and for accomplished drinkers, well, get a designated driver — and maybe a designated bed. Things can get way out of hand.

Everything is stacked in favor of excess New Year’s Eve. Everything.

There is a long tradition of tippling. Maiden aunts hit the sherry; fathers start on dry martinis, and do not always make it to midnight; and French children are allowed watered wine. Trust the French. Also, you know you do not have to work the next day; although you will be ill-equipped to start implementing New Year’s resolutions, beyond the one never to do it again, or at least not for a year.

That other day of indulgence is March 17: St. Patrick’s Day. Do not confuse it with New Year’s Eve. St. Patrick’s is for the seasoned imbiber not the milquetoast church deacon who says “just the one” and after many flutes of Champagne, has to be helped home. New Year’s belongs not to the Irish but to the Scots. That old reprobate Robert Burns (1759-96) has his fingers all over it. He provided the excuse in a poem, “A Man’s A Man for A’ That” and a poem and song, “Auld Lang Syne.”

After the Act of Union in 1707, merging a reluctant Scotland and England, Scots’ pride was damaged and their language headed for extinction. It was the hard-living Burns who gave them back their pride and some sense of the specialness of Scotland and its clans.

The romantic movement Burns helped to ignite was further developed in the following century, when Queen Victoria showed a special affection for Scotland. She spent so much time at Balmoral Castle that some wag put a sign on Buckingham Palace which read, “This Desirable Residence To Let.” If the Queen, it is argued, had been as fond of Ireland, it might have remained part of the United Kingdom.

Be that as it may, the Scots influenced the English in the celebration of the New Year (known as Hogmanay in Scotland); and the Brits carried the Scots tradition around the world.

Of course, they also carried the native brew of Scotland around the world: Scotch became the ubiquitous drink it is today.

The Scots have always shown admirable dexterity is accommodating their Calvinism with strong drink and hard living. In the 37 years of his life, Burns fathered 14 children, nine of them with his wife, Jean; and he rivaled the English poet Lord Byron in his amorous imperialism. He also had an extravagant regard for New Year and for whisky.

The Scottish romantic movement — apart from getting us soused on Dec. 31– also spread the tradition of “first footing,” said to bring good luck to the first person across the threshold of a Scottish home on Jan. 1. Traditionally this was supposed to be a tall, dark person with a gift of salt. Standards have slipped, alas, and the revelers are more likely to be seeking more drink — or coming round the next day to apologize.

In the bad old days of journalism, when every day was a kind of New Year, there were theories aplenty of how to survive late into the night and to be in shape for the morrow. They include the following:

1. Do not mix grape and grain. Stick to wine or spirits. Do not turn yourself into a cocktail shaker.

2. Start the evening with a glass of milk, or swallow a pat of butter. This slows alcohol absorption.

3. No matter how bad you have been, take two aspirins before bed. That way you will not have to lie to God about reforming. He has heard it all before.

4. In the afternoon, read Dorothy Parker’s delicious short story, “You Were Perfectly Fine.” That should persuade you to see in the New Year in front of the television with a cup of herb tea. Cheers!