to the clans that mark the spots where their men fell. The dignifiedrnand pious stones set up by faithful relatives stand inrnstrong contrast with the ugly modern signs written in an ambiguousrnlanguage calculated neither to offend nor inspire. A fatherrntries to explain to his son how members of the same familyrncould be on different sides, and the boy comes up with thernanalogy of how he and his brother support different footballrnteams. Perhaps fan loyalty is as close, in modern Scotland, asrnone can get to clan loyalty.rnLooking out across the field, from the Culloden monument,rnI am surrounded by another family from somewhere near Edinburgh,rnthe children all dressed in baggy pants and backwardsrnbaseball caps (there arc, by the way, Scottish rappers), and itrnoccurs to me that it is not American military power that rulesrnthe world, nor even the power of American business: what conquersrnall, today, is the collective force of 250 million consumersrnwhose mass-produced vulgarity saps and subverts the vitality ofrnevery human community that still has blood and breath in it.rnDisgusted to find Disney and Nike at Culloden, I begin to turnrnaway, when one of the kids asks his father: “If the Jacobites werernover there, then the government soldiers over there (pointing tornthe right), they were for Scotland?” “No, dear,” replies thernfather, “the Jacobites fought for Scotland.” The boy, persisting,rnactually wanting to know: “Then if I, if we, were back then inrnthelSOO’s…”rn”The 1740’s,” interjects the father.rn”In the 1700’s, which side would we have been on?”rn”With the Jacobites, of course.”rn”But my friend Christopher, he’s English. Would he havernfought on the bad side?”rnpolitical opinions in the I740’s, probably feared the Highlanders,rnresented the Prince, and supported the current Germanrnlout on the English throne; and yet here they are, despitern250 years of English propaganda masquerading as British history,rnconvinced that the Jacobites were the only true Scots. Somernyears ago I wrote in National Review that, on the principle thatrnthe victors always write the history, the South won the WarrnBetween the States. And if history, not the pap that is regurgitatedrnand spat in children’s mouths by history teachers, but ifrnreal history is to be the criterion, then the Jacobites triumphedrnin the’45.rnBurns and Scott, Hugh McDiarmid and Douglas Youngrnknew something that the present leadership of the Scots NationalrnParty will have to learn, if they are ever to get anythingrnbetter for Scotland than a bigger piece of British tax revenues.rnIn a very real sense a nation exists only in its songs and legends.rnThe differences that separate social classes and regions even inrntiny Scotland could never have been bridged without poetry,rnand the attractions of England or France would always have seducedrnaristocrats and intellectuals into foreign allegiances, ifrnnot for literary traditions that go back to Barbour, Blind Harry,rnand Gavin Douglas. The tragedy of Scotland—like the tragedyrnof America—is not that there are too few people writing whatrnis called poetry, but that there arc so few poets who can give lifernto the nation. Before there can be a useful political revolutionrnin either nation, there must first come that beating of the heartrnthat can only be stirred by the poet.rnBreathes there a man with soul so dead.rnWho never to himself hath said.rnThis is my own my native land!rnThe father is noncommittal. Christopher could become arnScot by living in Scotland: then he too might qualify as a Jacobite.rnBesides, he added, “There are lots of Americans withrnScottish names, but just because your name is Scottish doesn’trnmake you a Scot.” No, but what does? There are lots of peoplernin Edinburgh who feel themselves to be more British than Scottish,rnwho really do seem to believe that Scotland is an Englishrncounty. But here is a family, whose ancestors, if they had anyrnIf Scott’s lines sound tinny and false to us today, it is not becausernthey offend our finely tuned ears but because we are deafrnto the music of the nation, and we are afraid to be caught out,rnloving anything better than our comfort. Poetry calls us tornsomething beyond ourselves and better, and if another Scott orrnMacDiarmid comes to the Scots or to some fragment of America,rnwe had better listen.rnFROM COVER-UP TO WHITEWASHrnThe REAL King PapersrnTHE MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.,rnPLAGIARISM STORYrnEdited by Theodore PappasrnA publication of The Rockford Institute.rn107 pages (paper). Only $10 (shipping and handling charges included).rn”The sordid tale of what has become of our institutions of learning and scholarship.”rn—Samuel Francisrn”A work of great seriousness, expressed in a lucid style (a rare combination).”rn—John LukacsrnTO ORDER BY CREDIT CARD, CALL: 1-800-383-0680 OR SEND CHECK OR MONEY ORDER (MADE PAYABLE TO THErnROCKFORD INSTITUTE) TO: King Book, 934 North Main Street, Rockford, tt. 61103 (Discounts available for bulk orders.)rn14/CHRONICLESrnrnrn