It is a risky thing to offer sympathy to the proud and sensitive, yet
I must say that I think the Scots have a real grievance. The two
actual, historic Macbeths were no worse than innumerable other couples
in other lands that had not yet fully struggled out of barbarism. It
is hard that Shakespeare happened on the story of that particular
pair, and so made it immortal. But he meant no harm, and, let Scotsmen
believe me, did positive good. Scotch hospitality is proverbial. As
much in Scotland as in America does the English visitor blush when he
thinks how perfunctory and niggard, in comparison, English hospitality
is. It was Scotland that first formalised hospitality, made of it an
exacting code of honour, with the basic principle that the guest must
in all circumstances be respected and at all costs protected. Jacobite
history bristles with examples of the heroic sacrifices made by hosts
for their guests, sacrifices of their own safety and even of their own
political convictions, for fear of infringing, however slightly, that
sacred code of theirs. And what was the origin of all this noble
pedantry? Shakespeare's `Macbeth.'
Perhaps if England were a bleak and rugged country, like Scotland, or
a new country, like America, the foreign visitor would be more
overwhelmed with kindness here than he is.
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