How The Scots Invented The Modern World Part 8

The rich man is the man with the most fertile imagination, in other words; his eyes really are bigger than his stomach. By devoting all his efforts and those of his employees and tenants to his land or his warehouse or factory, he ends up producing far more than he can consume himself: The rich consume little more than the poor [after all, you can drive only one Rolls-Royce at a time] and in spite of their natural selfishness and rapacity, though they mean only their own conveniency [and] their own vain and insatiable desires, they divide with the poor the produce of all their improvements. They are led by an invisible hand [my emphasis] to make the same distribution of the necessarities of life, which would have been made, had the earth been divided into equal portions among all its inhabitants. . . . Thus, without intending it, without knowing it, [the rich] advance the interest of the society, and afford means to the multiplication of the species.

The Theory of Moral Sentiments Theory of Moral Sentiments made Smith famous. To his dying day, he thought of it as a better book than The made Smith famous. To his dying day, he thought of it as a better book than The Wealth of Nations Wealth of Nations -and in fact, as we can see, it contains all the seeds of that later work. It won the warm approval of Hume (although he did not change his mind about his own theories). The book also won great praise for its "solidity" and "truth" from Edmund Burke, then a rising member of parliament and author of -and in fact, as we can see, it contains all the seeds of that later work. It won the warm approval of Hume (although he did not change his mind about his own theories). The book also won great praise for its "solidity" and "truth" from Edmund Burke, then a rising member of parliament and author of The Theory of the Sublime, The Theory of the Sublime, who wrote to Smith that "a theory like yours founded on the Nature of man, which is always the same, will last." German intellectuals read it with fascination, particularly Immanuel Kant, who asked plaintively, "Where in Germany is the man who can write so well about the moral character?" Voltaire summed up the feelings of many French who wrote to Smith that "a theory like yours founded on the Nature of man, which is always the same, will last." German intellectuals read it with fascination, particularly Immanuel Kant, who asked plaintively, "Where in Germany is the man who can write so well about the moral character?" Voltaire summed up the feelings of many French philosophes philosophes when he exclaimed, "We have nothing to compare with him, and I am embarra.s.sed for my dear compatriots." when he exclaimed, "We have nothing to compare with him, and I am embarra.s.sed for my dear compatriots."

Admiration for the book did not necessarily extend to approval of every idea in it. Some reviewers wanted to know if Smith was saying that we have no higher standard of morality than the one society imposes on us. What if society demands of us actions that are actually evil? Are we condemned to be social conformists forever? Smith replied no, "we soon learn . . . to set up in our minds a judge between ourselves and those we live with," who weighs our actions according to an impartial standard, so that "real magnamity and conscious virtue can support itself under the disapprobation of all mankind." But the conformity problem would not go away, and it would haunt every Enlightenment figure who treated morality as essentially a matter of social utility. Instead, it would take a renegade French musician, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and a former Army chaplain from the Highlands, Adam Ferguson, to break that issue wide open and explore the new ethical horizons that it opened up. The result would be the birth of the Romantic movement,which proposed a different relations.h.i.+p between the inner self and society-one born of conflict rather than cooperation, in which our happiness seems possible only at the expense of others, and vice versa.

All this seemed a long way off, though, particularly to Smith. His most important work still lay ahead. It was the indirect result of his friends.h.i.+p with the eighteen-year-old Duke of Buccleuch, one of Scotland's wealthiest aristocrats. The English politician and future Chancellor of the Exchequer Charles Townshend had suggested that Buccleuch take Smith as his tutor for his Grand Tour of Europe (Smith and Hume had given Townshend a copy of the Theory of Moral Theory of Moral Sentiments Sentiments). The Grand Tour was the rite of pa.s.sage of wealthy adolescent Britons in the eighteenth century. It involved visiting western European cities such as Paris, Amsterdam, Venice, and Rome to taste the artistic, social, and often s.e.xual fruits of the culture of the Continent. It often could last a year or more. Smith, worn out by his teaching and administrative ch.o.r.es at Glasgow (he had become Dean of the Faculty in 1760), happily accepted the invitation, and set out with his young pupil for the Continent in February 1766.

The reader who expects the trip to have been a fiasco, with the young Buccleuch turning out to be a holy terror, a kind of aristocratic Tom Jones, is going to be disappointed. In fact, Buccleuch seems to have been a sweet, rather shy boy, not overburdened with intellect but serious enough for Smith to give him Hume's History of England History of England to read on the way. A strong bond of affection and trust developed between them, strong enough that when they returned, Buccleuch offered Smith enough money to quit teaching and to write his next big book-a sort of eighteenth-century "genius grant." The book Smith completed in 1775 was, of course, his to read on the way. A strong bond of affection and trust developed between them, strong enough that when they returned, Buccleuch offered Smith enough money to quit teaching and to write his next big book-a sort of eighteenth-century "genius grant." The book Smith completed in 1775 was, of course, his Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, Nations, which appeared in print that following spring. which appeared in print that following spring.

It was the logical follow-up to Smith's earlier lectures on civil and natural law, but also to the themes of his moral theory: How and why do human beings learn to cooperate, and what makes for a constructive, useful life as opposed to a destructive one? Its strictly "economic" chapters, especially in Books One and Two, touched on subjects that certain French thinkers, the so-called Physiocrats, had taken up in their writings. Smith knew their work, and met several of them during his stay in Paris with Buccleuch. However, he does not seem to have taken much of what they said to heart, and he came back from his Paris visit very unimpressed (judging from their letters about Smith, the feeling was mutual). The real inspiration for his subject was his fellow Scots and the work they had done over the past three decades on the history of civil society, of how "commerce and manufactures gradually introduced order and good government, and with them, the liberty and security of individuals." Lurking in the background of the Wealth of Nations Wealth of Nations are Kames, Hume, Robertson, and even Hutcheson. It is not only Adam Smith's masterpiece. It is also the are Kames, Hume, Robertson, and even Hutcheson. It is not only Adam Smith's masterpiece. It is also the Summa Summa of the Scottish Enlightenment, a summation of its exploration of the nature of human progress-and its salute to the triumph of the modern. of the Scottish Enlightenment, a summation of its exploration of the nature of human progress-and its salute to the triumph of the modern.

Starting with chapter 1, Smith explains how the business of civilization gets done, by isolating the basic principle that explains all social improvement: the division of labor. This is Smith's term. The idea itself probably originated with David Hume, who called it "the part.i.tion of employments." We use another, perhaps better, word for it: specialization. specialization.

The notion itself is simple. When we concentrate our energy on one task rather than several, we increase our productivity. Instead of herding and fis.h.i.+ng and farming for our living, as primitive man or the Highland clansman did, we just farm. The result is we grow more than enough to feed ourselves, enough in fact to sell to others. Later, instead of dividing our time between growing and then bartering or selling our produce, we decide to leave the farming to someone else and concentrate on just buying and selling. We become merchants, and soon discover we can earn far more than the farmers and peasants who sell us the fruit of their labors.

And so on, at each stage of civil society's progress. The division of labor, Smith believed, was the inevitable rule everywhere; it occurred at every stage and in every human activity. But its role becomes particularly p.r.o.nounced in commercial society. As we continue to specialize and become increasingly more productive, the fruits of our labor are no longer things we consume ourselves. They become "commodities," literally the things that make our lives comfortable, which we buy and sell in exchange for other goods. We start to think about our labor in a new way. We look for ways to improve what we make and save time in making it, in order to sell it at market to get the things we really want. Capitalism is born, the system of economic production behind commercial society, a system whose productivity and inventiveness put all the rest in the shade.

The reason is that capitalism brings an intellectual as well as an economic change. It alters the way we think about ourselves and about others: we become buyers and sellers, customers and suppliers, who strive to improve the quality and quant.i.ty of our output, in order to gratify our needs. Eventually, Smith states, the division of labor produces people who do nothing but think about improvements: engineers such as his friends James Watt and Alexander Wilson, scientists such as Joseph Black, and those "whose trade it is not to do anything, but to observe everything"-philosophers, teachers, and professional managers of every sort.

The division of labor, in short, applies not just to physical labor, such as growing carrots or selling tobacco or making nails, but to intellectual labor as well. "Each individual becomes more expert in his own particular branch," Smith explains, "more work is done upon the whole, and the quant.i.ty of science is considerably increased by it." It lays the necessary foundation for technological innovation, as well as the gift of cultural refinement. Society finds s.p.a.ce for its white-collar professionals, people who have time to do nothing but write, paint, teach, compose music, count numbers, or plead cases in court, all for the gratification of the rest of our fellow citizens.

Smith had finally defined the link between commerce and cultural progress, which the rest of the Scottish Enlightenment had written about and celebrated, but not really proved. But he also opened up a broader point, and gestured toward another, often overlooked advantage to living in a modern commercial society. As the fourth stage of human progress, it produces more, in greater quant.i.ties, than any of its predecessors. It is so productive, in fact, that it can supply the wants and needs not only of those who work, but of those who don't. In the early drafts of Wealth of Nations, Wealth of Nations, Smith strongly emphasized this (unfortunately, most of it did not make it to the final published version). He conceded that capitalism generates a great inequality of wealth, with a very few commanding the great bulk of commodities and a great part of the rest sharing what is left. But even so, Smith wanted to know, "in what manner shall we account for the superior affluence and abundance commonly possessed by even the lowest and most despised member of Civilized Society, compared with what the most respected and active savage can attain to." Smith strongly emphasized this (unfortunately, most of it did not make it to the final published version). He conceded that capitalism generates a great inequality of wealth, with a very few commanding the great bulk of commodities and a great part of the rest sharing what is left. But even so, Smith wanted to know, "in what manner shall we account for the superior affluence and abundance commonly possessed by even the lowest and most despised member of Civilized Society, compared with what the most respected and active savage can attain to."

The answer is again division of labor, in which "so great a quant.i.ty of everything is produced, that there is enough both to gratify the slothful and oppressive profusion of the great, and at the same time abundantly to supply the wants of the artisan and the peasant." Better to be a poor man in a rich country than a rich man in a poor one. It was a lesson in comparative advantage that Smith and his generation saw played out in the Scottish Highlands. Later on, the modern West learned it again as it watched floods of Third World emigrants gladly give up their homes in Bangladesh or Guatemala for the most menial jobs they could find in London or New York.

On this point, as on so many in the Wealth of Nations, Wealth of Nations, Smith shared his friend Hume's delight in irony. Commentators sometimes suggest that irony is the most characteristic att.i.tude of the modern mind. Certainly the enlightened Scots had it in abundance. It sprang from their pursuit of intellectual detachment in observing human affairs, in noticing how our intentions and expectations so often differ from our actual performance. In Smith's case, that detachment allowed him to see that the charity cases of commercial society's "universal opulence" included not only the indigent and homeless at the bottom of the social scale, but the rich and famous at the top. It also led him to perceive the real significance of self-interest as a human motivation. Smith shared his friend Hume's delight in irony. Commentators sometimes suggest that irony is the most characteristic att.i.tude of the modern mind. Certainly the enlightened Scots had it in abundance. It sprang from their pursuit of intellectual detachment in observing human affairs, in noticing how our intentions and expectations so often differ from our actual performance. In Smith's case, that detachment allowed him to see that the charity cases of commercial society's "universal opulence" included not only the indigent and homeless at the bottom of the social scale, but the rich and famous at the top. It also led him to perceive the real significance of self-interest as a human motivation.

Division of labor is one universal condition for the making of civil society. The other, even more essential and universal, is self-interest. Smith describes it in Hume's terms: as a pa.s.sion or emotional impulse rather than a cold rational calculation, or what other philosophers liked to call "self-interest rightly understood." Self-interest acts like an emotional spur. It is an inner compulsion to better ourselves and our circ.u.mstances, which forces us to take action even when we do not particularly want to. It is in fact the drive behind the division of labor.

Contrary to popular misunderstanding, Adam Smith never supposed that everyone is driven solely by self-interest in a material sense. He knew that many of us, perhaps most, are not. Certainly very few people are so driven that they make great sacrifices and efforts in order to gratify its demands. But enough do to make a difference. They force the pace of progress forward, prodded along by their imaginings of wealth and fortune, just as The Theory of Moral Sentiments The Theory of Moral Sentiments foresaw. The surplus they produce, in a world governed by scarcity, spills over to the rest of us. "It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner," Smith wrote in one of the most famous pa.s.sages of the foresaw. The surplus they produce, in a world governed by scarcity, spills over to the rest of us. "It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner," Smith wrote in one of the most famous pa.s.sages of the Wealth of Nations, Wealth of Nations, "but from their regard to their own interest." "but from their regard to their own interest."

Of course, Smith was not the first to propose this paradox, that self-interest, even greed, is actually beneficial to society and to the human species. The Dutch moralist Bernard Mandeville had said the same thing almost a century earlier, arguing that what most moralists condemned as vices were actually virtues, in their beneficial effect on the economy: Luxury employ'd a million of the poor, and odious pride a million more; Envy itself and vanity were ministers of industry; Their darling folly, fickleness In diet, furniture, and dress, That strange ridic'lous vice, was made The very wheel that turn'd the trade.

Smith carried Mandeville one step further, however, revealing an even deeper paradox and a greater irony: the pursuit of our own self-interest actually causes us to reach out to others. This is true of all societies, as Hume and Kames had realized; the Bushman soon realizes that the hunt goes easier when he has help, instead of having to do it all himself. But Smith's bold insight was to realize that it was the genius of capitalism to carry both of these characteristics, the pursuit of self-interest and and the need for cooperation, to their highest pitch. On the one hand, it multiplies the opportunities, and lessens the amount of direct physical labor, necessary to pursue that interest. On the other, the relentless search for customers to buy, and for suppliers to sell, results in a vast network of interdependence, binding people together in far more complex ways than is possible in more primitive conditions. "In civilized society [a person] stands at all times in need of the cooperation and a.s.sistance of great mult.i.tudes," Smith wrote, "while his whole life is scarce sufficient to gain the friends.h.i.+p of a few persons." the need for cooperation, to their highest pitch. On the one hand, it multiplies the opportunities, and lessens the amount of direct physical labor, necessary to pursue that interest. On the other, the relentless search for customers to buy, and for suppliers to sell, results in a vast network of interdependence, binding people together in far more complex ways than is possible in more primitive conditions. "In civilized society [a person] stands at all times in need of the cooperation and a.s.sistance of great mult.i.tudes," Smith wrote, "while his whole life is scarce sufficient to gain the friends.h.i.+p of a few persons."

Then still another paradox, and a further irony: the interdependence of the market begets independence of the mind, meaning the freedom to see one's own self-interest and the opportunity to pursue it. We recall that for Hutcheson, human happiness had been about personal liberty, the capacity to live one's life as one saw fit without harming others. For Kames, it had been about owning property, which gave us our sense of "propriety" and ident.i.ty as human beings. Now Smith put the two together. By entering and competing in the great interactive dynamic network of modern society, at once impersonal but also indispensable to happiness, we become fully free and human. Independence in this sense becomes the hallmark of modern society, just as dependence on others or "servility" becomes the hallmark of primitive societies and inst.i.tutions. "n.o.body but a beggar," Smith admonished, "chuses to depend chiefly upon the benevolence of his fellow-citizens." Yet this has been the essential fate of the vast majority of humankind through most of history, as slaves toiling for their masters, as peasants handing over the harvest to their feudal lords, or as members of the tribe or clan dependent on their chieftains' command for life or death-hapless creatures whose quality of life rests entirely on whether their chief is "gentle Lochiel" or a brute like Coll MacDonnell. Capitalism breaks that cycle, and offers the conditions under which we forge our own happiness: independence, material affluence, and cooperation with others.

Today, more than two hundred years later, three great myths still surround Adam Smith and his Wealth of Nations. Wealth of Nations.

The first is that Smith believed that the wealth of capitalism was generated by some great, guiding "invisible hand." In fact, the term, which appears in which appears in Wealth of Nations Wealth of Nations and and The Theory of Moral Sentiments, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, is meant to be taken, once again, as irony. Smith did believe that capitalism produces its own kind of natural rational order, based on the market and its complex, interlocking system of self-interested exchange. To a superficial observer it might appear as if everyone were moving according to a single directing mind or "invisible hand." But his real point was not that a market-based order was perfect or even perfectible. Rather, it was more beneficial, and ultimately more rational, than ones put together by politicians or rulers, who are themselves creatures of their own pa.s.sions and whims. is meant to be taken, once again, as irony. Smith did believe that capitalism produces its own kind of natural rational order, based on the market and its complex, interlocking system of self-interested exchange. To a superficial observer it might appear as if everyone were moving according to a single directing mind or "invisible hand." But his real point was not that a market-based order was perfect or even perfectible. Rather, it was more beneficial, and ultimately more rational, than ones put together by politicians or rulers, who are themselves creatures of their own pa.s.sions and whims.

Here Smith's chief target was what he termed, and what has been known ever since, as "the mercantile system." He found it exemplified in theory in a book by another Scot, Sir James Steuart, t.i.tled Inquiry into Inquiry into the Principles of Political Oeconomy, the Principles of Political Oeconomy, and in practice in the British government's handling of its overseas empire. and in practice in the British government's handling of its overseas empire.20 Steuart's Steuart's Inquiry Inquiry appeared in 1767, and although Smith p.r.o.nounced the book an "ingenious performance," everything about it infuriated him. Steuart was a strong believer in state intervention to develop trade and expand economic growth. He even argued that without the government's constant attention, its foreign trade might actually grind to a halt, leaving the nation vulnerable and dest.i.tute. appeared in 1767, and although Smith p.r.o.nounced the book an "ingenious performance," everything about it infuriated him. Steuart was a strong believer in state intervention to develop trade and expand economic growth. He even argued that without the government's constant attention, its foreign trade might actually grind to a halt, leaving the nation vulnerable and dest.i.tute.

This was the sort of justification for punitive tariffs, export subsidies, and government-granted trade monopolies that Smith saw at work in Britain's overseas empire, and which he was determined to fight. He wrote of Steuart's work, "I flatter myself, that every false principle in it, will meet with a clear and distinct confutation in mine." In fact, Books Three and Four of the Wealth of Nations Wealth of Nations are a devastating a.n.a.lysis of the attempts by successive governments to manipulate the powerful productive forces of overseas trade, foolishly believing they could increase wealth by government dictate, when in fact they usually did the opposite. are a devastating a.n.a.lysis of the attempts by successive governments to manipulate the powerful productive forces of overseas trade, foolishly believing they could increase wealth by government dictate, when in fact they usually did the opposite.

The centerpiece is Smith's scathing critique of London's policy toward the American colonies-which, by the time he was writing in 1775, had reached a critical point. Smith followed the American crisis, not only from recent news reports and Parliamentary debates, but also from his tobacco merchant friends such as Gla.s.sford and Ingram, who had lived in Virginia and Maryland and knew the situation firsthand. They understood, as Smith did, that Scotland was perfectly poised to benefit from a policy of free trade with America, and that London's shortsighted efforts to bend the Americans to its will would not only cripple their own business there (which it did), but would cost Britain her empire as well. "There are no colonies of which the progress has been more rapid than that of the English in North America," Smith wrote, and yet thanks to its monopolistic policies, "Great Britain derives nothing but loss from the dominion which she a.s.sumes over her colonies."

Smith's critique reached out beyond colonial monopolies to all kinds of unwanted government meddling in economic affairs. This is the second myth about Wealth of Nations, Wealth of Nations, that in it Smith invented the notion of laissez-faire capitalism, in which the government has little or no role to play. In fact, the phrase that in it Smith invented the notion of laissez-faire capitalism, in which the government has little or no role to play. In fact, the phrase laissez-faire laissez-faire comes from French economists, not Smith, who does not use the term at all. And contrary to the myth, Smith did see an important role for a strong national government. He saw it as necessary for providing a system of national defense, to protect the society and its commerce with its neighbors. It also must provide a system of justice and protection of individual rights, particularly the right to property: "[I]t is only under the shelter of the civil magistrate that the owner of that valuable property, which is acquired by the labor of many years, or perhaps of many successive generations, can sleep a single night in security." And it is needed to help defray the expenses of essential public works, such as roads, bridges, ca.n.a.ls, and harbors. comes from French economists, not Smith, who does not use the term at all. And contrary to the myth, Smith did see an important role for a strong national government. He saw it as necessary for providing a system of national defense, to protect the society and its commerce with its neighbors. It also must provide a system of justice and protection of individual rights, particularly the right to property: "[I]t is only under the shelter of the civil magistrate that the owner of that valuable property, which is acquired by the labor of many years, or perhaps of many successive generations, can sleep a single night in security." And it is needed to help defray the expenses of essential public works, such as roads, bridges, ca.n.a.ls, and harbors.

Beyond that, however, Smith saw any other form of government interference as having all kinds of unintended consequences. History offered innumerable examples of governments and rulers, often with the best intentions, trying to change or adjust their nation's economic life, with disastrous results. Roman emperors had attempted to regulate the sagging economy of the Late Empire, and had destroyed it instead. Spain had tried to maintain a monopoly on the flow of bullion from the New World, only to bankrupt itself. Smith worried that Britain and its policy in America was headed down the same road.

To Adam Smith, belief in a free market was not an intellectual dogma, but a basic lesson of history. It was time for rulers to learn from their mistakes, and let commercial society follow its own course: All systems either of preference or of restraint, therefore, being thus completely taken away, the obvious and simple system of natural liberty establishes itself of its own accord. Every man, as long as he does not violate the laws of justice, is left perfectly free to pursue his own interest his own way. . . . The sovereign is completely discharged from a duty, in the attempting to perform which he must always be exposed to innumerable delusions, and for the proper performance of which no human wisdom or knowledge could ever be sufficient; the duty of superintending the industry of private people, and of directing it towards the employments most suitable to the interest of society.

This is the Adam Smith with whom we are all familiar: the great prophet of free-market capitalism as a system of "natural liberty," and the great enemy of any and all attempts to tinker with that system, whether for the sake of political power or social justice.

But there is another, less obvious Adam Smith who is also appears in the pages of Wealth of Nations. Wealth of Nations. He, too, was a player in a contemporary debate raging in Edinburgh, about the new "commercial spirit" sweeping across Scotland and what it might mean for the future. This Adam Smith also flies in the face of the third myth about him and his greatest work, that it is basically an apologia for big business and the merchant cla.s.s. He, too, was a player in a contemporary debate raging in Edinburgh, about the new "commercial spirit" sweeping across Scotland and what it might mean for the future. This Adam Smith also flies in the face of the third myth about him and his greatest work, that it is basically an apologia for big business and the merchant cla.s.s.

In fact, while Wealth of Nations Wealth of Nations speaks highly of free markets, it treats businessmen themselves in a very different light. To begin with, Smith saw the important beneficiaries of the free market not as businessmen but as consumers. "Consumption is the sole end and purpose of all production; and the interest of the producer ought to be attended to, only so far as it may be necessary for promoting that of the consumer." This was precisely what the existing British system failed to do. It put the interest of the producers and merchants ahead of that of consumers, who only want low prices and a ready supply of goods. Merchants often prefer the opposite. In fact, Smith understood that much of the British government's disastrous trade policies came at the instigation of the London merchants themselves, who wanted to protect their livelihood. "It is the interest of every man to live as much at his ease as he can," Smith notes in Book Five, and that rule applies as much to the businessman as it does to the landed aristocrat or university professor. speaks highly of free markets, it treats businessmen themselves in a very different light. To begin with, Smith saw the important beneficiaries of the free market not as businessmen but as consumers. "Consumption is the sole end and purpose of all production; and the interest of the producer ought to be attended to, only so far as it may be necessary for promoting that of the consumer." This was precisely what the existing British system failed to do. It put the interest of the producers and merchants ahead of that of consumers, who only want low prices and a ready supply of goods. Merchants often prefer the opposite. In fact, Smith understood that much of the British government's disastrous trade policies came at the instigation of the London merchants themselves, who wanted to protect their livelihood. "It is the interest of every man to live as much at his ease as he can," Smith notes in Book Five, and that rule applies as much to the businessman as it does to the landed aristocrat or university professor.

His overall picture of the typical businessman is certainly unflattering, and reading it must have made some of his Tobacco Lord friends slightly uncomfortable. He notes that while they often complained about high prices, "they say nothing concerning the bad effects of high profits." He speaks of their "mean rapacity" and "monopolizing spirit" and suggests that "the government of an exclusive company of merchants is, perhaps, the worst of all governments for any country whatsoever." Most of this was aimed at the business community in London, which had instigated and benefited from the corrupt old imperial system, rather than Glasgow. Smith's point was that the free market was as much a check upon the greed and power of the merchant as it was on an interfering king or government bureaucrat.

But Smith saw another, more systematic corruption flowing from commercial society, one that was more pernicious and worried him deeply. Even as capitalism increases specialization, and more sophistication in the overall output of goods and services, the individuals caught up in the process become narrower in their interests and less concerned with what happens outside their shop, office, or showroom. They come to weigh everything in terms of their job, of profit and loss, and lose sight of the larger picture. This worry appeared years before in one of Smith's lectures, and is worth quoting in full: Another bad effect of commerce is that it sinks the courage of mankind, and tends to extinguish martial spirit. In all commercial countries the division of labor is infinite, and every one's thoughts are employed about one particular thing. . . . The minds of men are contracted, and rendered incapable of elevation. Education is despised, or at least neglected, and heroic spirit is utterly extinguished.

Preventing this kind of "mental mutilation," Smith says in the Wealth of Wealth of Nations, Nations, deserves "the most serious attention of government." It is in fact the one place where Smith actually commends a genuinely active role for civic inst.i.tutions: creating a system of education that will counteract this "deformity" of the human character by the division of labor. deserves "the most serious attention of government." It is in fact the one place where Smith actually commends a genuinely active role for civic inst.i.tutions: creating a system of education that will counteract this "deformity" of the human character by the division of labor.

Through capitalism we gain, but we also lose. The loss, Smith felt, was felt most among the lowest cla.s.ses-his particular example was employees in a pin factory-whose cramped place in the chain of production leaves no room for the enlargement of the mind and spirit, which the freedom of commercial society should open up. Smith in fact defined the problem of the "a.s.sembly line" mentality of factory workers almost two decades before the Industrial Revolution got fully under way-the problem that Karl Marx and his followers would call alienation. It was especially worrisome to Smith, because "in free countries, where the safety of government depends very much upon the favourable judgement which the people may form of its conduct," a ma.s.s of ignorant, culturally degraded citizens easily becomes an immense drag on the system. They become easy prey to demagogues and applaud every attempt to undermine the foundations of that "natural liberty" which they have enjoyed in the first place.

So, while Smith had given one set of issues its final, definitive shape-the link between commercial society, refinement, and liberty-he had opened up a whole new territory for discussion and debate, the cultural costs of capitalism. In fact, he and his Edinburgh friends had been arguing about this for almost a decade, even before Dr. Johnson had wondered during his Scottish tour whether any society benefitted from becoming entirely "commercial" in its mentality and att.i.tudes. The Scots, including Adam Smith himself, had firmly answered No.

The person who put the matter in the strongest terms was another member of the Select Society, and founder of the Poker Club, Adam Ferguson. Born in Perths.h.i.+re, along the border between the Highlands and Lowlands, he had gone to Edinburgh to study for the ministry. There he became friends with the other future Moderate literati. But he missed the traumatic events of 174546 when he accepted a post as chaplain to the Black Watch regiment in Flanders.

It was an experience that profoundly altered his perspective from that of his contemporaries. They, as we saw, considered Prince Charles's Highland followers uncouth barbarians, and looked forward with undisguised relish to the demise of their society and culture. As chaplain, Ferguson had come to know the Highlanders firsthand and understood that for all their crude habits and harsh aggressiveness, they were men of honor, with an undeniable sense of courage, loyalty, and generosity toward friend and foe alike. In fact, they reminded Ferguson of no one so much as the warriors of the Homeric poems, and the ancient Spartans and Roman legions. The very qualities that his Moderate friends admired in their beloved Greeks and Romans, Ferguson found alive and well in the Scottish Highlands. The destruction of that way of life meant the destruction of something precious, Ferguson decided, and Scotland and the Scots would be the poorer for it.

Ferguson expanded his argument far beyond Scotland and into the very nature and history of civil society itself. In fact, that became the t.i.tle of his book Essay on the History of Civil Society, Essay on the History of Civil Society, published in 1768. In it, Ferguson helped himself to generous portions of Kames and Hume, as well as Adam Smith and Jean-Jacques Rousseau-and another, largely forgotten figure, Andrew Fletcher. The result was a volatile mixture of typical, cold-eyed Scottish political and social a.n.a.lysis, and flights of almost romantic poetry in praise of primitive peoples everywhere, but particularly in the ancient world and among Native Americans. Ferguson found in them what he had found in his Highland regiment: honor, integrity, and courage, which commercial society, with its over-specialization and mental mutilation, destroyed. published in 1768. In it, Ferguson helped himself to generous portions of Kames and Hume, as well as Adam Smith and Jean-Jacques Rousseau-and another, largely forgotten figure, Andrew Fletcher. The result was a volatile mixture of typical, cold-eyed Scottish political and social a.n.a.lysis, and flights of almost romantic poetry in praise of primitive peoples everywhere, but particularly in the ancient world and among Native Americans. Ferguson found in them what he had found in his Highland regiment: honor, integrity, and courage, which commercial society, with its over-specialization and mental mutilation, destroyed.

This was one of Ferguson's most striking points. Far from being "civilized" and advanced in their att.i.tudes, the ancient Greeks and Romans were in fact, by modern standards, true primitives. A world of differences separated them from us, a world created and defined by the rise of capitalism. As Ferguson showed, modern civilization had erected an enormous barrier, cutting off "polite" nations not only from their "barbarous" neighbors, but from their own past as well. He quotes with approval a Native American chief telling a British official in Canada, "I am a warrior, not a merchant." It is a sentiment that would have been shared by an Achilles or a Hector, or even a Cato or a Pericles-not to mention a Highland chieftain such as Lochiel. "Their ardent attachment to their country," Ferguson wrote of the ancients, "their contempt of suffering, and of death, in its cause; their manly apprehensions of personal independence, which rendered every individual, even under tottering establishments, and imperfect laws, the guardian of freedom to his fellow citizens . . . have gained them the first rank among nations."

All these qualities were being steadily eaten away in the new, self-centered, modern society taking shape around them. Today "the individual considers his community only so far as it can be rendered subservient to his personal advancement and profit." Human beings become weak and soft, and lose their sense of honor and courage. They must have their creature comforts, no matter what. Freedom itself becomes a commodity, to be sold to the highest bidder-or seized by the strongest power.

Ferguson saw history moving along the same lines as his fellow Edinburgh literati, but the ultimate destination would be very different from what the prophets of progress had forecast.

The boasted refinements, then, of the polished age, are not divested of danger. They open a door, perhaps, to disaster, as wide and accessible as any they have shut. If they build walls and ramparts, they enervate the minds of those who are placed to defend them; if they form disciplined armies, they reduce the military spirit of entire nations; and by placing the sword where they have given a distaste to civil establishments, they prepare for mankind the government of force.

The last stage of modern history would be not liberty but tyranny, unless something was done to prevent it. Left to itself, commercial society would become humanity's tomb.

Ferguson's book had an enormous impact when it came out. It contained one of the first uses of the word civilization civilization in English, and coined the term in English, and coined the term civil society civil society as synonymous with modernity itself. It made Ferguson almost as famous as Adam Smith, and on the Continent almost as influential. The German Enlightenment particularly admired it, including the father of modern nationalism, Johann Gottfried Herder, and the founder of German Romanticism, the poet Friedrich Schiller. But Ferguson's closest reader would be Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, who incorporated many of Ferguson's ideas and even phrases into his own philosophy of history, which Karl Marx would take up and develop. In fact, Marxism owes its greatest debt to Ferguson, not Rousseau, as the most trenchant critic of capitalism-and as the great alternative to Adam Smith as the prophet of modernity. as synonymous with modernity itself. It made Ferguson almost as famous as Adam Smith, and on the Continent almost as influential. The German Enlightenment particularly admired it, including the father of modern nationalism, Johann Gottfried Herder, and the founder of German Romanticism, the poet Friedrich Schiller. But Ferguson's closest reader would be Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, who incorporated many of Ferguson's ideas and even phrases into his own philosophy of history, which Karl Marx would take up and develop. In fact, Marxism owes its greatest debt to Ferguson, not Rousseau, as the most trenchant critic of capitalism-and as the great alternative to Adam Smith as the prophet of modernity.

Admiration among his fellow Scots was more measured. Hume disliked the Essay; Essay; he saw it as a surrender to a kind of romantic primitivism, which the controversy over the Ossian poems had recently set off. he saw it as a surrender to a kind of romantic primitivism, which the controversy over the Ossian poems had recently set off.21 Adam Smith was miffed by the fact that Ferguson had stolen many of his insights from Smith's own lectures, including the part about the decline of the martial spirit in capitalist society. The real disagreement was not over content, however, but the tone. Smith and Hume clearly saw the shortcomings of a society organized completely around the gratification of self-interest and the calculation of profit and loss. They saw the virtues of premodern "rude" societies disappearing, along with their vices, and understood that we pay a heavy price for the division of labor and specialization in a modern complex economy. Adam Smith was miffed by the fact that Ferguson had stolen many of his insights from Smith's own lectures, including the part about the decline of the martial spirit in capitalist society. The real disagreement was not over content, however, but the tone. Smith and Hume clearly saw the shortcomings of a society organized completely around the gratification of self-interest and the calculation of profit and loss. They saw the virtues of premodern "rude" societies disappearing, along with their vices, and understood that we pay a heavy price for the division of labor and specialization in a modern complex economy.

But they believed firmly that the benefits were worth the price. A society that could finally feed everyone, not just a chosen few; that could relieve the poverty and misery of even the weakest and least productive of its members; that recognized the sovereignty of the individual and his rights, and agreed to leave him alone to pursue his own ends; that put a premium on treating others with kindness and deference rather than disdain and exploitation; and, finally, that a society that recognized that it was better to do business with other nations than to try to conquer them, was not one on the verge of tyranny, but just the opposite. These were the conditions of modern liberty. If the ancients had constructed a version of freedom that lacked these essential ingredients, then they, not we, were the poorer for it.

And if commercial society offered new problems, it also offered solutions. Steps could be taken to correct course, and counteract the "bad effects of commerce" Smith and Ferguson had defined, even the cultural ones. One such solution was education, and Smith, in the late sections of Wealth of Nations, Wealth of Nations, strongly urged public support for a system of schools that would make sure the benefits of a civilized culture reached as large a public as possible. Not surprisingly, his model was Scotland's own system of parish schools, which "has taught almost the whole common people to read, and a very great proportion of them to write and account." Smith knew that a modern capitalist society without a decent system of education was committing suicide, politically as well as culturally. strongly urged public support for a system of schools that would make sure the benefits of a civilized culture reached as large a public as possible. Not surprisingly, his model was Scotland's own system of parish schools, which "has taught almost the whole common people to read, and a very great proportion of them to write and account." Smith knew that a modern capitalist society without a decent system of education was committing suicide, politically as well as culturally.

Another solution was one that many of Smith's Edinburgh friends had embraced, including Adam Ferguson: the creation of a citizen militia. This was a sore subject for Scotsmen. Ever since the Forty-five, they had been denied the use and owners.h.i.+p of weapons, and Parliament's pa.s.sage of Militia Acts in 1757, and then during the American war, deliberately left the Scots out. Ferguson had become a virtual firebrand on the issue. He organized the Poker Club specifically to "stir up" public support for creating a Scottish militia. He also wrote pamphlets on the subject, as did John Home and other Moderates, arguing that a citizen militia was a way to keep alive the traditions of physical courage and martial spirit in a commercial society.

Why did the Scottish Enlightenment embrace the militia cause so strongly? Lurking in the background, perhaps, were uncomfortable memories of the volunteer companies of 1745 and that ill-fated march through Edinburgh. When liberty is threatened, can anyone expect young men raised in a cushy commercial environment to risk their lives on the battlefield against tough and hardened warriors? Obviously not, unless they have help. Not material help in this case, but cultural help, something that taught them self-sacrifice, discipline, and loyalty, and gave them confidence in their own physical powers and those of their weapons. This, Ferguson and the rest believed, militia training could do. And Adam Smith came to agree with them. Although he warned in Wealth of Nations Wealth of Nations that a citizen militia could never equal the discipline of a professional army in peacetime, he did believe a few campaigns in the field could harden them into an effective fighting force. The record of citizen soldiers in modern times, from Saratoga and Gettysburg to El-Alamein and Omaha Beach, tends to bear him out. that a citizen militia could never equal the discipline of a professional army in peacetime, he did believe a few campaigns in the field could harden them into an effective fighting force. The record of citizen soldiers in modern times, from Saratoga and Gettysburg to El-Alamein and Omaha Beach, tends to bear him out.

The agitation for a Scottish militia failed to move legislators in London. But it did set a new standard for later debates about the future of free societies, and the place of military virtues and military arms in them. The idea that a free people needed to keep and bear arms in order to defend their liberty was an ancient one, reaching back to the Greeks and forward to Andrew Fletcher. But now Ferguson and his friends had added something new, a social-psychological dimension. By owning weapons and learning to use them, a commercial people can keep alive a collective sense of honor, valor, and physical courage, traditions that no society, no matter how sophisticated and advanced, can afford to do without.

Here again, we see how the force of the debate had s.h.i.+fted. The issue was no longer how to make Scotland "civilized" and modern. That had been done. The question now was, having crossed that irrevocable line, what could be preserved of what came before? A watershed had been pa.s.sed, and everyone knew it.

The Wealth of Nations Wealth of Nations was published on March 6, 1776. In February of that year, another masterpiece had appeared, the first volume of Edward Gibbon's was published on March 6, 1776. In February of that year, another masterpiece had appeared, the first volume of Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Although English, Gibbon modeled his work closely on the Scottish and Edinburgh historical school: for all intents and purposes, he was intellectually a Scot. One of his closest friends was Adam Ferguson, but his other heroes were Hume and Smith, whose new book Gibbon called "the most profound and systematic treatise on the great objects of trade and revenue which had ever been published in any age or century." When Hume wrote to Gibbon praising his new history, Gibbon said the letter "repaid the labour of ten years." Although English, Gibbon modeled his work closely on the Scottish and Edinburgh historical school: for all intents and purposes, he was intellectually a Scot. One of his closest friends was Adam Ferguson, but his other heroes were Hume and Smith, whose new book Gibbon called "the most profound and systematic treatise on the great objects of trade and revenue which had ever been published in any age or century." When Hume wrote to Gibbon praising his new history, Gibbon said the letter "repaid the labour of ten years."

On August 25, 1776, David Hume died after a long illness. His funeral drew a huge crowd, as his body was carried in a pouring rain from his house in the New Town to the Old Calton Burying Ground. Although Hume dismissed the idea of an afterlife to the very end, his last hours were calm and serene. Joseph Black described them in a letter to Adam Smith: "When he spoke to the people about him [he] always did it with affection and tenderness."

Earlier, on July 4, a different world-shattering event took place across the Atlantic. The American Revolution lurks in the background of every chapter of Wealth of Nations, Wealth of Nations, just as it occupied the attention of so many of Smith's colleagues and friends. just as it occupied the attention of so many of Smith's colleagues and friends.22 Yet in certain ways, the reverse was also true. Scottish ideas, and Scots, were having a large impact on the events unfolding in the American colonies. Yet in certain ways, the reverse was also true. Scottish ideas, and Scots, were having a large impact on the events unfolding in the American colonies.

PART TWO.

Diaspora

In the evening the company danced as usual. We performed, with much activity, a dance which, I suppose, the emigration from Skye has occasioned. They call it America America. Each of the couples, after the convolutions and evolutions, successively whirls round in a circle, till all are in motion; and the dance seems intended to show how emigration catches, till a whole neighbourhood is set afloat.

-James Boswell, Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides , 1773

CHAPTER NINE.

"That Great Design": Scots in America Call this war by whatever name you may, only call it not an American rebellion; it is nothing more or less than a Scotch Irish Presbyterian rebellion.

-Anonymous Hessian o ficer, 1778 Watching events unfolding in America in the autumn of 1775, Adam Smith wrote in Wealth of Nations: Wealth of Nations: They are very weak who flatter themselves that, in the state to which things have come, our colonies will be easily conquered by force alone. The persons who now govern the resolutions of what they call the Continental Congress, feel in themselves at this moment a degree of importance which, perhaps, the greatest subjects in Europe scarce feel. From shopkeepers, tradesmen, and attornies, they are become statesmen and legislators, and are employed in contriving a new form of government for an extensive empire, which, they flatter themselves, will become, and which, indeed, seems very likely to become, one of the greatest and most formidable that ever was in the world.

In this, as in so much else, Smith proved prescient. Even he, however, could not have guessed how far that process of creating a "new form of government" or growing that "extensive empire" might go. Nor could he realize to what extent his own fellow Scots, including his friend David Hume, could take at least some of the credit for it.

As we have seen, Smith's view of what was happening in Britain's American colonies was informed by his friends in the Glasgow tobacco trade, several of whom had lived there. His interest in America was primarily economic. He saw it, and its prosperity, as the unintended result of a mercantile system gone haywire, which ended up enriching colonists who were supposed to be exploited, and emptying the pockets of Britons who were supposed to be benefiting from imperial dominion. As he put it, "The rulers of Great Britain have, for more than a century past, amused the people with the imagination that they possessed a great empire on the west side of the Atlantic." But the people were beginning to discover that "the effects of the monopoly of the colonial trade . . . [are] more loss than profit." Now they were saddled with a rebellion, and a war; and while Smith realized his own sensible advice for compromise would be ignored by the government in London, he also saw that the loss of the colonies would force a change in the direction of Great Britain, including Scotland-a change almost as dramatic as the change in the thirteen colonies themselves.

I.

Scottish ties to North America dated back as far back as the reign of James I, when he conceived his ill-fated plans for a Scots colony, "Nova Scotia," in Canada. It was a long way from the icy, rocky sh.o.r.es of Nova Scotia to the sun-drenched beach of Darien, but the same dream inspired both: the get-rich-quick scheme of settlers effortlessly tapping the fabled resources of the New World, with the government skimming the thick cream from the top. Nova Scotia failed, less disastrously than Darien, since Scots did continue to settle and live there, but both experiences taught Scottish merchants and entrepreneurs a basic truth: that only patience and hard work brought wealth from the American possessions. Even before the Act of Union, Glasgow and Greenock merchants were busy laying down their lines across the Atlantic. By 1707, Glasgow families such as the Bogles had been doing business in the middle colonies for nearly three decades, much of it through illegal smuggling.

Scottish merchants penetrated the Chesapeake Bay and the James, Potomac, and Delaware Rivers, and operated as far north as Boston. Scottish settlers started arriving as early as the 1680s, and as Britain's role in North America expanded, the Scottish presence grew with it. One expert summarized the Lowland Scot presence in colonial America this way: "They permeated the official establishment, especially in the southern colonies, and provided several colonial governors. They supplied clergy for the Episcopalian and Presbyterian churches. They served as tutors . . . and many went on to establish schools." Most of eighteenth-century America's physicians were either Scots or Scot-trained. In short, Scots became indispensable to the running of colonial government and to cultural life, especially in the Southern and Middle Atlantic states. By the middle of the eighteenth century, Norfolk, Virginia, was virtually a Scottish town.

But this was only the first wave. America became the final destination for all three branches of the Scottish ethnic and cultural family: Lowlanders, Highlanders, and Ulster Scots. The first Ulster Scots turned up in 1713. In Worcester, Ma.s.sachusetts, they were much in demand as Indian fighters and as a tough barrier between the English settlers and the "savage wilderness" beyond. When they tried to build a Presbyterian church, though, their neighbors tore it down. Between 1717 and 1776, perhaps a quarter of a million Ulstermen came to America, 100,000 of them as indentured servants. They did not remain servants for very long, as colonists soon discovered that Ulster Scots were not born to be obedient.

The Highlanders were last. Many were refugees from the Forty-five who settled along the Cape Fear River of North Carolina. MacLeods, MacDonalds, MacRaes, MacDougalls, and Campbells found themselves in a land where their native Gaelic isolated them even from their Scots neighbors, and in a climate and landscape totally unlike the one they had left behind. Flat, low-lying, humid marshes, red clay soil with scrub-pine forests; but the land was cheap and available, and the Highlanders carved out farms for themselves and their families. This is where Flora MacDonald and her husband would settle when they came to America; thousands of others would make the same trip over the next fifty years. The volume and the points of destination grew as the Highlands emptied itself of people well into the next century. Today there are probably more descendants of the Highland clans living in America than in Scotland.

A transfer of people also involves a transfer of culture. At the same time that a new, refined Scotland was taking hold in its urban capitals and then spreading its influence to the rest of Europe, the older, more traditional Scotland was finding a new home in America, and thriving. A strange time warp was under way. The very same "backward" cultural forces that the Edinburgh and Glasgow Enlightenments were overmastering in order to create a modern society, including the old-time Presbyterianism, were about to generate their own version of progress. By the time enlightened Scotland reached American sh.o.r.es, the two would meet in a kind of cultural cross-current: the United States, as a republic and a nation, would be the result.

The people who best represented that traditional Presbyterian Scot culture were the Ulster Scots, or, as the Americans called them, the "Scotch Irish." They were Irish by geography only. In their settlements in the northern counties of Ireland, they had struggled to preserve the twin characteristics of their Scottish forebears. The first was a fierce Calvinist faith. The other was a similarly fierce individualism, which saw every man as the basic equal of every other, and defied authority of every kind. The man who claimed to be better than anyone else had to be ready to prove it, with his words, his actions, or his fists.

These volatile ingredients had been forged in fire in the religious conflicts of Northern Ireland, and in battles against both Catholic neighbors and English masters. A sense of personal independence, stubborn pride, and fierce family honor took root in the Scotch-Irish character. It kept the Ulster community intact through a century of triumph and disaster, and when its members began to leave Antrim, Armagh, Down, and Derry for a better future, they carried it with them to America.

The first great wave of Scotch-Irish emigration began with the failed harvest of 1717, which forced people to choose between moving and starving. A merchant from Philadelphia, Jonathan d.i.c.kinson, noted that summer "we have had 12 or 13 sayle of s.h.i.+ps from the North of Ireland with a swarm of people." He also noted their appearance: tall and lean, with weatherbeaten faces and wooden shoes "shod like a horse's feet with iron." The women wore short, tight-waisted skirts and dresses, showing their bare legs underneath, which shocked Quaker Philadelphia. Another wave of Ulster Scots followed in the 1720s; so many, in fact, that the British Parliament demanded an inquiry, wondering whether they would completely depopulate the Protestant element in Ireland before they were done.

Some never made it. The trip on overcrowded s.h.i.+ps could be hazardous, even murderous. One s.h.i.+p from Belfast to Philadelphia ran out of food midway. Forty-six pa.s.sengers died of starvation, and the rest had to turn to cannibalism, with some eating members of their own families. The numbers kept coming, however, until by 1770 at least 200,000 had settled in America. In the first two weeks of August 1773 alone, 3,500 emigrants turned up in Philadelphia, looking to start a new life.

Where did they go? A few stayed and found work at their ports of entry, such as Philadelphia or Chester. But most fanned out west, traveling deep into three great river valleys and mountain ridges: up the Delaware Valley into southeastern Pennsylvania; south across the Potomac into the Shenandoah Valley, and then even farther south, beyond the Piedmont ridge into the Carolinas.

From the point of view of the colonial government and locals, they had come at the right time. English emigration to America had fallen off; and non-English settlers such as Germans and Huguenot French had not yet appeared in large numbers. The Scotch-Irish settlements began pus.h.i.+ng the frontier farther and deeper into the Appalachians. Unlike many of their earlier English predecessors, they did not expect an easy time of it. Prepared for the worst, they carved a new life for themselves out of the wilderness, taking land from neighbors or natives when it suited them. The habits of colonizing Ireland and seizing arable land from Catholic enemies carried over to the New World. Their insatiable desire for land, and the willingness to fight and die to keep it, laid the foundation of the frontier mentality of the American West.

They settled in small farm communities, usually on the lee side of a ridge or in a creek hollow, cl.u.s.tering together according to family or region, like their remote Highland ancestors. A typical farm consisted of a "cowpen" or livestock corral of a sort familiar to a Lowland or Border farmer, and a cabin built of logs. The archetypal dwelling of the American frontier, the log cabin, was in fact a Scots development, if not invention. The word itself, cabine, cabine, meant any sort of rude enclosure or hut, made of stone and dirt in Scotland, or sod and mud in Ireland. meant any sort of rude enclosure or hut, made of stone and dirt in Scotland, or sod and mud in Ireland.

Across southwest Virginia, North Carolina, and eventually Tennessee, their extended families spread out-Alexanders, Ashes, Caldwells, Campbells, Calhouns, Montgomerys, Donelsons, Gilchrists, Knoxes, and Shelbys-establis.h.i.+ng a network of clanlike alliances and new settlements. They named their communities-such as Orange County (in North Carolina), Orangeburg (in South Carolina), Galloway, Derry, Durham, c.u.mberland (after the Border county in England), Carlisle, and Aberdeen-after the places and loyalties they had left behind. In North Carolina they founded towns called Enterprise, Improvement, and Progress; and in Georgia and western Virginia, towns called Liberty.

Placenames and language reflected their northern Irish or southern Lowlands origins. They said "whar" for "where," "thar" for "there,""critter" for "creature," "nekkid" for "naked," "widder" for "widow," and "younguns" for "young ones." They were always "fixin' " to do something, or go "sparkin'" instead of "courting," and the young 'uns "growed up" instead of "grew up." As David Hackett Fisher has suggested, these were the first utterings of the American dialect of Appalachian mountaineers, cowboys, truck drivers, and backcountry politicians. The language was also shame