Happy Leap Day! In my previous post, I shouted out my colleague and friend, Salim Rashid, for formulating a new Adam Smith problem — or what I now like to call “Salim Rashid’s Adam Smith Problem” — in his work-in-progress “Young Adam Smith”. In a word: how does Smith deserve to be remembered, and how would Smith himself have answered this question? Moral philosopher, law professor, political economist, advisor to statesmen, author of The Wealth of Nations, and customs house official all come to mind, though these sundry pigeonholes only tell a partial story, like the radically divergent re-tellings of the same crime in Akira Kurosawa’s classic film Rashomon.

For his part, Professor Rashid not only explains why Smith himself might have thought of himself, first and foremost, as a literary figure; his beautiful paper also identifies several additional “unanswered questions” about our beloved Scottish man of letters. Some of these questions, for example, involve the young Adam Smith’s “Snell Exhibition” — a coveted scholarship allowing a small number of Glasgow University students to study at Oxford — and his six-year stint at Balliol College, Oxford, i.e. July 1740 to August 1746:

• Is there any evidence of the young Smith using the Balliol College library or the primary Oxford library, the Bodleian, during his six years at Oxford? (See Rashid 2023, p. 8.)
• Why did Smith continue to hold his Snell Exhibition until 1749 (see here, for example), when his residency at Oxford ended in 1746; that is, did Smith continue to receive Snell scholarship monies for an additional three years? (Ibid.)
• To this list, I would add a third open question: what was the young Smith actually doing during his “lost years”, i.e. from the summer of 1746, when he ditched Oxford, to the fall of 1748, when he began to deliver a series of lectures in the town of Edinburgh under the patronage of Lord Kames?

Next, another set of open questions involves Smith’s so-called “Edinburgh period” (cf. pp. 39-42 of Lord Keynes’s review of W. R. Scott’s Adam Smith as Student and Professor, published in Economic History, Vol. 4, No. 13 (1938), pp. 33-46), i.e. 1748 to 1751, when he delivered a series of freelance lectures before becoming a full-time professor at the University of Glasgow. Among these questions are the following: where were these lectures given; what was their subject-matter; who was Smith’s audience; and what fees, if any, did Smith charge? (See Rashid 2023, p. 19.) Also, according to Rashid (ibid.), “[a]t a time when many of the Edinburgh University professors advertised their lectures each term in the Edinburgh Evening Courant and the Caledonian Mercury, as also did visiting speakers, musicians, gymnastic performers, anditinerant quacks, only the name of Adam Smith is missing.” Why?

Yet another set of open questions involves Smith’s stint as a professor of moral philosophy at the University of Glasgow, i.e. January 1752 to November 1763:

• Why did Smith begin writing up the so-called “Early Draft” of The Wealth of Nations in 1755, which is devoted to political economy, but then publish an entirely different book on a completely different subject-matter in 1759, The Theory of Moral Sentiments? (See Rashid 2023, p. 8.)
• Why did Smith then wait another 20 years to develop his approach to political economy [i.e. the Early Draft] into a book? (Ibid.) Did his three-year sojourn in France (1764-1766) have any thing to do with this timing?
• Why did Professor Smith accept “so many administrative duties” during his tenure at the University of Glasgow? (Ibid.) By way of example, Smith was officially Quaestor (Treasurer) from 1758 to 1760 (see here), responsible for buying books for the University Library.
• In addition to his regular teaching and administrative duties at Glasgow, why did the young professor also agree to take into his home and personally tutor Lord Shelburne’s second son (Thomas Petty Fitzmaurice) from 1759 to 1761? How many other students at the University of Glasgow did Smith tutor at his home, and how much time and effort did this take?

Beyond these Smithian enigmas, I would add several others. How did Smith grade his students, were his exams in writing or oral, did he have any teaching assistants, and what was his teaching load like? To conclude (for now), however we remember Smith’s legacy, it suffices to say that Professor Rashid and I will be adding these additional open questions and discussing them at greater length when we revise our new work-in-progress Die Adam Smith Probleme.