Scotland Brave

My introduction to the works of Robert Louis Stevenson was not, as is I assume is more common, through a reading of Treasure Island or Kidnapped, but on the wall of a Hardee's restaurant along Routes 11&15, the major thoroughfare that leads into my hometown of Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania.  Connections between fast food restaurants and literature aren't easy to come by, but for some reason our particular Hardee's was decorated with a lithograph image of man in silhouette, resting his arm upon an oar dipped into the river flowing gracefully beneath his boat, with a fairly recognizable landscape of the surrounding valley stretching into the distance around him.  And beside this image were these words:

And when I had asked the name of a river from the brakesman, and heard that it was called the Susquehanna, the beauty of the name seemed to be part and parcel of the beauty of the land. As when Adam with divine fitness named the creatures, so this word Susquehanna was at once accepted by the fancy. That was the name, as no other could be, for that shining river and desirable valley.

The quote was attributed to Robert Louis Stevenson, and from that day forward I've always made the connection between that author and the river that defines the region in which I grew up.  I'm not even sure when I learned that Stevenson was a Scot, growing up in Edinburgh but leaving later in life to seek out a climate more agreeable to his poor health.  His journey took him across North America and eventually to the Pacific island of Samoa, where he died at the age of 44.

I am currently in Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland,  the "Athens of the North"; and my route to the National Archives every morning takes me past the home of the Stevenson family, a large Georgian structure that has fallen on hard times; I gaze into boarded-up windows and over cracks yielding to sprouts of grass on the front landing.  There must be a story behind why, in a city so cognizant of its history and tireless in its outreach to tourists, this building is not the site of a museum, or at the very least a trendy Stevenson-themed pub, but I haven't come across it.  I did learn that Robert Sr. was a notable engineer, responsible for building some of the world's most advanced lighthouses of the age.  His only son, however, turned away from studying engineering at the University of Edinburgh to pursue his passion for literature. I learned this from the cab driver on the way from the airport to my rented apartment in a neighborhood just a short walk from Edinburgh's Old Town and famous geographic landmark, Arthur's Seat.  From the pinnacle of this hilltop one is offered one of the most spectacular views in Europe; the sturdy stone of the past, in the shape of the city's ancient Castle and the time-worn buildings aligning the Royal Mile, is surrounded by the encroachments of the vibrant present in the thrusting height of apartment towers, the massive arenas of modern sport and the pathways of progress, those cluttered highways and reaching train routes.  It's a beautifully mad mosaic.

So, what am I doing here? Researching Scotch whisky.  That's "whisky"- without the "e" (an Irish and American addition to the word, which itself is a made up concoction deriving from the Gaelic "uisge beatha" - from the Latin "aqua vitae" (water of life!))  Whatever you call it, it's a splendid spirit.  More on that later.  My objective over the next few weeks is to delve into the history of the Scotch export trade.  Scotch whisky currently makes up over 23% of all food and drink exports for the UK, producing an extraordinary amount of revenue for the state, and maintaining the livelihood of 1 out of 50 people in Scotland.  This commodity has had a fascinating history at the nexus of agriculture, economics, social behaviors, religious beliefs, popular culture and my particular interest: empire.  I am researching the archives of Scotch whisky distillers, blenders and agents (sellers) in order to learn more about the significance of international trade to the Scotch business in the early decades of the 20th century, when the British Empire brought its products and habits to locations all across the globe.  In particular, I intend to describe the arrival and growth of the Scotch whisky trade in Iraq, and the factors that led my good friend, Subhy al-Meshadani, Baghdad Provincial Council member, to tell me that no Iraqi today would throw a good party without serving Johnnie Walker...

Much thanks to the University of Pittsburgh's Nationality Rooms Scholarship program and to the Scottish Room grant committee under Robert Murdoch, Esq.