The Wealth of Nations stands as a timeless classic in English literature, yet it has not achieved the widespread affection or readership it deserves.
Upon its release in 1776, publisher Thomas Strahan remarked that “the sale … has been more than I could have expected from a work that requires much thought and reflection (qualities that do not abound among modern readers).” Meanwhile, David Hume expressed his skepticism about its appeal to the public, noting that it demanded significant attention, which the average reader was reluctant to offer. Nevertheless, he acknowledged its depth, solidity, and engaging facts, predicting it would eventually captivate public interest.
Even within political circles, Smith’s ideas were met with mixed reactions. A notable critique from the Governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony was termed by a scholar as “the only rigorous and comprehensive analysis of the work published in Smith’s lifetime,” which merely defended the existing economic structure. By the end of the eighteenth century, although the intellectual elite were familiar with The Wealth of Nations, they did not wholeheartedly embrace Smith’s concepts.
In Smith’s biography, John Rae recounts how Charles James Fox, despite quoting Smith in the House of Commons, admitted he hadn’t read the book. On another occasion, when a fellow economist claimed nothing was known about political economy before Smith, Fox dismissively replied, “Pooh, your Adam Smiths are nothing.”
The significance of Smith’s ideas did not gain traction in British politics until Pitt’s 1792 budget. The nineteenth century saw a greater embrace of Smithian thought, especially by figures like Gladstone. However, in 1906, when newly elected Labour MPs were asked which books influenced them most, only four mentioned Smith. Despite numerous reprints and translations, Smith did not cultivate a large, devoted readership. Jonathan Rose notes instances of working-class men engaging with Smith in the nineteenth century, but he is not prominently featured in The Intellectual Life of the British Working Class.
Smith has maintained a consistent audience among writers and intellectuals. In his introduction to The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Amartya Sen credits Smith with a level of ancient wisdom, as he argued, “to be an ancient” entails having commentators. By this measure, Sen posits that “few are more ancient than Smith.” He serves modernity as Plato does antiquity. In contrast to other renowned figures like Charles Darwin, whose writings sparked immediate and lasting debates, Smith’s reception has been relatively subdued, despite his undeniable influence.
Yet, The Wealth of Nations is remarkably accessible. Among all thinkers addressing complex topics, Smith may well be England’s finest prose stylist. As Edward Gibbon observed, The Wealth of Nations encapsulates “an extensive science in a single book, and the most profound ideas expressed in the most perspicuous language.” Smith was particularly fond of the term “perspicacious,” often employing it in his Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, as he aimed for a clear and straightforward English style. Students recorded his emphasis on:
“A natural order of expression, free of parentheses and superfluous words, is likewise a great help towards perspicuity.”
And:
“Our words must be put in such order that the meaning of the sentence shall be quite plain and not depend on the accuracy of the printer in placing the points, or of readers in laying the emphasis on any certain word.”
These principles contribute to Smith’s enjoyable readability. His approach—eschewing excessive words, following a “natural order of expression,” and employing straightforward sentence structures—ensures genuine clarity. Readers can grasp his arguments without struggling through convoluted syntax. For anyone curious about the workings of the world, Smith’s writings are invaluable, reflecting the diligent care that many seek in complex books.
While The Wealth of Nations demands attention, it does not hinder comprehension, unlike many other academic texts. Smith meticulously directs his prose to render each of the thousand pages as lucid and comprehensible as possible. Consider these excerpts:
“It would be too ridiculous to go about seriously to prove, that wealth does not consist in money, or in gold and silver; but in what money purchases, and is valuable only for purchasing. Money, no doubt, makes always a part of the national capital; but it has already been shown that it generally makes but a small part, and always the most unprofitable part of it.” (WN IV.i.17)
“It is not the multitude of alehouses, to give the most suspicious example, that occasions a general disposition to drunkenness among the common people; but that disposition, arising from other causes, necessarily gives employment to a multitude of alehouses.” (WN II.v.7)
“The pride of man makes him love to domineer, and nothing mortifies him so much as to be obliged to condescend to persuade his inferiors. Wherever the law allows it, and the nature of the work can afford it, therefore, he will generally prefer the service of slaves to that of freemen. The planting of sugar and tobacco can afford the expense of slave cultivation. The raising of corn, it seems, in the present times, cannot.” (WN III.ii.10)
These selections illustrate Smith’s ability to use everyday language, adhering to the principles of placing “proper words in proper places,” as advocated by Swift. He avoids ornate rhetoric, making each point succinctly before moving on—perhaps adding a sub-clause or conjunction, ensuring the reader is not left grappling with complex sentence structures. His use of rhetorical techniques, as seen in the alehouse example, enhances his arguments without overwhelming the reader.
This clarity does not render Smith a dull or detached writer. He expresses passion and conviction when the topic compels him:
“England, however, as it has never been blessed with a very parsimonious government, so parsimony has at no time been the characteristical virtue of its inhabitants. It is the highest impertinence and presumption, therefore, in kings and ministers, to pretend to watch over the œconomy of private people, and to restrain their expenditure, either by sumptuary laws, or by prohibiting the importation of foreign luxuries. They are themselves always, and without any exception, the greatest spendthrifts in the society. Let them look well after their own expenditure, and they may safely trust private people with theirs. If their own extravagance does not ruin the state, that of their subjects never will.” (WN II.iii.36)
Smith writes about life with a sense of emotional engagement while maintaining a critical perspective: “The contempt of risk, and the presumptuous hope of success, are in no period of life more active than at the age at which young people choose their professions.” (WN I.x.b.29) He describes the mindset of navy personnel with the acknowledgment that “the distant prospect of hazards, from which we can hope to extricate ourselves by courage and address, is not disagreeable to us, and does not raise the wages of labour in any employment.” (WN I.x.b.32)
Despite being rooted in economic analysis, many of Smith’s observations resonate with moral sensibility: “The most decisive mark of the prosperity of any country is the increase of the number of its inhabitants.” (WN I.viii.23) He critiques what he calls the “cobweb science of Ontology” (WN V.i.f.29) being taught at universities and champions education that “improves the understanding [and] mends the heart.” (WN V.i.f.32)
When adjusting for changes in vocabulary over the years, Smith’s prose remains accessible enough to feature in a contemporary magazine. The Wealth of Nations is replete with relatable examples, everyday metrics, and historical references. Generalizations are elucidated through concrete examples, and he never transitions to a new point until the current one is thoroughly understood. Repeated phrases like “necessities and conveniences” serve as motifs, making it easier for readers to follow his arguments.
Throughout these various literary techniques, Smith reveals himself as a great reader—not only of his cherished Jonathan Swift but also of other esteemed English writers like Addison and Johnson. He recommended reading authors such as Samuel Richardson, Racine, and Voltaire. Smith was a well-rounded humanist, equipped with life experiences and literary knowledge sufficient to craft not just a seminal treatise but also a work that provides significant enjoyment.
