Footprints of Famous Men: Designed as Incitements to Intellectual Industry

by John G. Edgar

Fortune smiled more bountifully on the scientific Professor when he sallied forth into the literary field, single-handed, and under his own pennon. In 1759 he boldly challenged criticism with his “Theory of Moral Sentiments,” which soon attracted public attention, and won no slight applause. His friends, David Hume and Wedderburn, afterward Lord Chancellor Loughborough, lent their aid to spread the reputation of the book in London; and the historian soon had the happiness of transmitting to the author flattering accounts of its reception. Among others who were captivated with the performance was Charles Townsend, then regarded as “the cleverest fellow in England,” and subsequently immortalized in one of Burke’s most marvelous parliamentary speeches “as the delight and ornament of the House, and the charm of every private society he honored with his presence.” He had already become connected with Scotland by wedding a dowager of high rank, and vindicated his claims to respect as her consort in a very amusing way. On accompanying his titled bride to her residence in “the land of mountain and of flood,” the relatives and dependants of the lady, in their eagerness to do her full honor, seemed rather inclined to forget that a welcome was due to the brilliant and ambitious husband. “For God’s sake, gentlemen,” exclaimed the prodigy, who could hit the House of Commons between wind and water, “remember that I am at least Prince George of Denmark!” He now declared that he would exercise the privilege of a step-father, and put the boy-Duke of Buccleuch under Smith’s tuition. Hume wished to settle the matter at once by having the noble cub sent to Glasgow, but a different course was adopted. Townsend was somewhat uncertain in his resolutions, and four years were allowed to elapse before the necessary arrangements were made. Then Smith received a formal invitation to attend the young duke on his travels; and setting out, they arrived at Paris in the beginning of 1764.

Hume, whose ancient blood would naturally boil at the recollection of the indignities he had suffered while, for a brief period, enacting the part of keeper to an insane marquis, had been clearly of opinion that no terms offered by Townsend would induce Dr. Smith to renounce his professorship. He was mistaken. The latter considered that his new position afforded him an opportunity of observing the internal policy of Continental states, and thus completing the system of political economy which his brain was occupied in thinking out. On arriving in Paris, he immediately addressed to the Rector of the University a letter announcing his resignation. It was accepted by the professorial body with regret; a meeting was convened; a fitting tribute was paid to his genius, ability, and learning; and honorable testimony was borne to the high probity and amiable qualities which had secured their possessor lasting esteem among his colleagues. Meantime Smith and his pupil, having remained a fortnight in Paris, proceeded to Toulouse, and there fixed their residence for eighteen months, during which the Doctor formed intimacies with several men of distinction, and made himself acquainted with the internal policy of the kingdom. They then visited several places in the South of France, resided for a while at Geneva, and then retraced their steps to the borders of the Seine. There Smith counted among his associates many of the chief men of letters and science, among whom were several of the political philosophers known as Economists. The accredited founder of that sect was the celebrated Quesnai, though he had been preceded by the profound and acute Galiani. Harris and Hume had likewise done much to popularize the doctrines. But Smith, whose attention had already been occupied with the subject for the space of ten years, was the first to see the whole bearing of their principles, and to trace their consequences with care, and face them with confidence.

When Smith set foot on his native soil, in the autumn of 1766, he did not return to the scene of his former triumphs, but consigned himself to studious and laborious retirement under the roof of his worthy mother. Old friends urged him to come within their reach, and give them the benefit of his company; but his strong ambition to produce a great and influential work, “like Aaron’s rod swallowed up the rest,” and he was content to pursue his object in obscurity. He was in comfortable circumstances, as the Duke of Buccleuch had, in consideration of his tuition, settled on him an income of three hundred pounds a year, and in other respects he was not unprepared for the mighty task. His long residence in a commercial town, his foreign experience, and his intercourse with the French economists and statesmen, had trained his philosophic mind for the investigation of the subjects on which he aspired to throw a new and enduring light. When employed in preparing for the press, he generally walked up and down the room dictating to an amanuensis, and he is said to have composed with as much slowness and difficulty in his later years as in youth. The “Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations” did not make its appearance in public till the spring of 1766. It was found to consist of five books. The two first contain the scientific portion. The third is a historical sketch of the progress of opulence. The fourth, the longest, treats of the legislative interference by which governments have attempted to make their subjects rich, and endeavors to show that all such schemes retard instead of promoting the object in view. The fifth, which points out the means by which the duties of sovereigns may be best performed, and how a public revenue may be most judiciously provided, is in reality a treatise on the art of government. This work, so important in its results, saw the light just six months before David Hume was laid in his lonesome grave, and he immediately wrote—“It has depth, and solidity, and acuteness, and is so much illustrated by curious facts that it must, at last, take the public attention.... If you were here, at my fireside, I should dispute some of your principles; but these, and a hundred other points, are fit only to be discussed in conversation.” Gibbon, likewise, mentioned it with praise in his immortal History; and Fox lent his aid to increase its fame by saying in that House, where the author’s name has since been familiar as a household word, and unquestionably too often used by others than parliamentary giants—“The way, as my learned friend Dr. Adam Smith states, for a nation, as well as an individual, to be rich, is for both to live within their income.” It is admitted, however, that the doctrines enunciated made less impression on the minds of Fox and his allies, than on that of the young and disdainful minister who, toward the close of the century, had to stand the brunt of their impassioned eloquence. Johnson, whose love for Smith was not excessive, interposed his ponderous influence to shield him from Sir John Pringle’s diverting allegation—that Smith, not being practically conversant with trade, could not be qualified to write on matters relating to it. “That is quite a mistake,” said the sage, indignantly: “a man who has never been in trade may write well on trade; and there is nothing which requires more to be illustrated by philosophy than trade does. As to mere wealth, that is to say money, it is clear that one nation, or one individual, can not increase its store but by making another poorer; but trade procures what is more valuable, the reciprocation of the peculiar advantages of different countries. A merchant seldom thinks of any but his own trade. To write a good book upon it, a man must have extensive views. It is not necessary to have practiced, to write well upon, a subject.”

During the two years following his greatest publication Dr. Smith resided in London, and spent much of his time in that “bright constellation of British stars,” forming the club without a name, which Sir Joshua Reynolds had founded. But in 1778 he was appointed one of the Commissioners of Customs in Scotland, and removed to Edinburgh to attend to the duties attached to the office, which, though they required little exertion, were sufficient to divert his attention from literary undertakings. His mother, now an extremely aged woman, came to live with him; as did also Miss Douglas, an elderly cousin, who had formerly superintended his domestic arrangements at Glasgow. He had collected a valuable library, and being apparently of Horace’s way of thinking, in regard to there being no splendor in money unless it shines in a temperate expenditure, he was generous in his gifts and hospitable in his manner of living. He soon began to feel some of the infirmities of age, but his health and strength did not give way till the death of his female relatives, when he was left in a position somewhat more solitary than he relished, and he became still more engrossed with his meditations.

Kay’s series of portraits and caricature etchings enable the curious inquirer not only to have before him the style of dress and appearance of the author of the “Wealth of Nations” at this period, but even to form a tolerably accurate conception of what a day with him must have ordinarily been. One seems to see him, as he is prepared after breakfast to set out for the Custom House, standing before the table, with his cane in one hand, and the other on some page of his latest work, which lies open before him. He descends the stair, and issues slowly into the street, muttering to himself, and indulging in a laugh, which must be very favorable to the digestion of his morning meal. And what can it be that excites his risibility? Is he chuckling over the solution of some knotty problem in political science, or does the manly and dignified figure of his acquaintance, Lord Rockville, in the distance, recall to his memory the never-ending joke about the Grassmarket pavement, having one evening most suddenly risen up and struck that urbane and polished legal sage in the face? These two fishwomen, whom he meets, look as if they had some notion; but no, by St. Bride! the weather-beaten jades really mistake the philosopher for a lunatic, and express their surprise that he is not in custody. He neither sees nor hears them, however, but continues to laugh and soliloquize.

“Heigh, sirs! isn’t that waesome?” ejaculates one, as she shakes her head and becomes mute from very pity.

“And he’s so well put on, too!” observed the other, with a sigh, as she marked his careful attire, from the cocked hat and flowing wig to the ruffles at his wrists and the buckles on his shoes. Our venerable hero now approaches the Custom House, and as he reaches the door, the gigantic porter, who keeps guard, salutes him with ceremonious formality. But what is the Economist about now? Exercising his muscles, or teaching the big janitor sword exercise? Not at all. He is only, with the most complete unconsciousness of doing any thing of the kind, imitating with his gold-headed cane every flourish that the man has made, before entering the building where the Board is sitting for the transaction of business connected with the collection of the revenue. He exchanges courteous salutations with his colleagues, among whom are a tall, stately scion of the noble house of Cochrane, and Capt. Edgar, a gentleman of eccentric habits, but a thorough man of the world, and valued by the Doctor, because, being rather out of place at a Customs’ Board, and luckily an excellent classical scholar, he is quite ready to devote the official hours to the task of amusing the philosopher. Accordingly, this personage, celebrated in verse as the beau dîneur, and Dr. Smith, renowned for having taught the world how nations are bound together by the reciprocal benefits of commerce, occupy their time with the recitation of passages from the Greek authors. Then a paper bearing the signature of one of the Commissioners is handed to the Economist, but instead of appending his own name, he copies that of the person who has already signed it. He now rises and sallies forth to indulge in a quiet walk about the Meadows, a fashionable place of resort; and after dining, he repairs to the “Poker Club,” to spend the remainder of his waking hours in the company of Black, and Hutton, and John Home.

Now and then Dr. Smith paid a visit to London. On the last occasion of his being in the metropolis he had been engaged to dine with tall Harry Dundas, afterward Lord Melville, then the real “Cock of the North.” He happened to arrive too late, and the guests, among whom were Pitt, Grenville, and Addington, had taken their places at table; but on his entrance, they, with one accord, rose to receive him. The Doctor offered an apology for being so late, and begged them to resume their seats; but they said, “No, we’ll stand till you are seated, for we are all your scholars.”

In the year 1787 the veteran philosopher was elected Rector of Glasgow University. He was touched by the compliment, and in acknowledging it, stated that no preferment could have given him so much real satisfaction, because the term of years, during which he had been a member of the Society, had formed by far the most useful, and therefore the happiest and most honorable, period of the life whose closing scene was now gradually drawing nigh. His last illness was painful and lingering, but in the summer of 1790 the angel of death gave no uncertain signals of approach. In accordance with an old Scottish custom, certainly more honored in the breach than the observance, Dr. Smith had been in the habit of inviting his intimate associates to supper on Sundays. This, it should be mentioned, was, at that date, practiced by men whose character for Christian piety was beyond all reproach or question; and the Economist’s adherence to it can not, with any show of reason, be cited in support of the tendency to infidelity, which has been, rightly or wrongly, imputed to him. It was a July evening when they last assembled, and the gathering was, as usual, pretty numerous; but the host found himself incapable of taking that part which he had so often done; and feeling himself unable to entertain them, he requested their permission to withdraw. On taking his leave, he said, “Indeed, gentlemen, I believe we must adjourn this meeting to some other place.” A few days brought release from his sufferings. He had just given orders for the destruction of all his manuscripts, with the exception of some detached essays, which, being left to the care of his executors, were afterward published; when he breathed his last in a state of complete mental resignation. He was most tenderly sympathized with in his pangs by a circle of sorrowing friends, who had learned fully to appreciate the powers of his intellect, the comprehensiveness of his views, the extent of his attainments, and the benignity of his disposition.

THE END.