Professor John Smith and Dartmouth

John Smith was one of Dartmouth’s earliest sons and earliest professors. While he did bear a quite common name, his contributions to the College in its early days were exceptional. One of Eleazar Wheelock’s first students at the newly formed Dartmouth in the early 1770s, Smith distinguished himself through his great linguistic abilities at the College. Seeking to become a minister after graduation, he was summoned back to the College by Wheelock as Dartmouth’s founder realized Smith’s immense potential to contribute to the growth of the College. Wheelock made him a Professor of the “Learned Languages” in 1778. 

Smith would spend the rest of his life at the College, until his untimely death in 1809. Over this time, he would witness the financial struggles of the College after Wheelock’s death in 1779, and then the growth and maturation of Dartmouth under Wheelock’s son and successor John Wheelock in the ensuing decades. Smith’s death in 1809 would also be the catalyst for the power struggle at the College that would culminate in the famous case Dartmouth College v. Woodward. Smith proved to be a pillar of the College for its first forty years; however, his legacy, just like that of many great men of Dartmouth’s past, has been forgotten. Here is an attempt to remember him and his contributions to the College.

John Smith was born in Byfield, Massachusetts, on December 21, 1752. He received an education at the local Dummer’s Academy (now the Governor’s Academy). He planned to seek further education at Yale, but a trustee of the recently formed Dartmouth College enticed him to visit Hanover, where he decided to enroll. In Hanover, Smith distinguished himself for his linguistic abilities. Mastering Greek and Latin, he ventured to learn Hebrew and “Chaldee” (another name for Aramaic), taking it upon himself to write his own grammars for the respective languages. Seeking to capitalize on Smith’s accomplishments, Eleazer Wheelock sought for these grammars to be officially published to serve as a demonstration of the excellence of his new college. Wheelock was not successful in finding a publisher for Smith, but Smith’s Hebrew grammar was eventually published in 1803. As no publisher in New England had the correct typescript, the Chaldee grammar, regrettably, was never published. Both of the original manuscripts which Smith wrote as an undergraduate are preserved in Rauner Library. 

After graduating, Smith became a tutor at the College, but soon he sought to become a minister, a standard pathway for well-educated men of the time. He moved to West Hartford, Connecticut, to become the local pastor there. However, after his graduation from the College, Dartmouth fell on harsh times that eventually forced Wheelock to call on Smith to return to teach at the College in 1777. The outbreak of the Revolutionary War proved costly to Dartmouth. Many of the original donors to the College were in England, and the War cut Wheelock off from this revenue source. Additionally, New Hampshire had specifically been chosen as the location for the College because of the amenability and ambition of its colonial governor, John Wentworth. As the war broke out, however, Wentworth fled the state, and the College was left without political protection. 

In fact, when neighboring Vermont was established in 1777, the College made a hasty attempt to join the new republic, attaching its lands to Vermont with the goal of garnering political control in the new project. However, this haphazard plan was quickly abandoned as nearby Windsor, Vermont, proved not to be the catalyst of political power in the state. Finally, the Revolutionary War also proved greatly detrimental to Wheelock’s goal of educating natives. As most natives sided with the British, the few natives attending the school unenrolled and left Hanover. In fact, as Dartmouth was located essentially in the frontier of New England, the College was left unprotected against potential attacks from natives siding with the British. In all, Dartmouth found itself in a very precarious situation that convinced Wheelock to summon Smith for his help.

In 1777, John Smith became “Professor of English, Latin, Greek, Hebrew and Chaldee” at Dartmouth and maintained this position until his death in 1809. He was tasked with teaching “the Learned Languages,” and everything related to Latin, Greek, and Hebrew at Dartmouth came back to him. In these early days, before the times of great university administrator inflation, professors had to wear many hats at once for the College to function. Smith, for instance, became the College’s librarian in 1779, a position he would also hold until his death, and he also maintained his minister career. At his peak, Smith “was hearing the recitations of two classes[;] he was pastor of the churches on both sides of the river, a duty requiring two sermons each Sunday[;] he was librarian[;] he was carrying an extra class in Hebrew[;] and he had the duty of correcting all the exercises that were spoken on the stage.” Perhaps the modern administrator could learn a thing or two from his industriousness. However, the idea of hearing our benevolent administrators deliver a sermon a week is a scary proposition. Most students can barely make it through the emails as it is. Smith should be credited with maintaining the presence of Hebrew at the College, a language that was fading in popularity at the time. During his time, seven of the College’s commencement speeches were spoken in Hebrew, speeches whose creation he undoubtedly guided.

Among the early instructors at the College, Smith’s scholastic ambitions greatly exceeded those of his counterparts, while his pedological abilities seemed to receive more mixed reviews. In the early days of John Wheelock’s presidential tenure, the teaching staff was composed of Wheelock’s two brothers-in-law, Sylvanus Ripley and Bezaleel Woodward, along with Smith. These three are now remembered together through the Ripley-Woodward-Smith dormitory. Ripley tragically died in a violent sleigh accident in 1787, and while he was beloved by students and community leaders, he did not leave much material behind to evaluate him retrospectively. Woodward was far more a practical man than a scholar. Samuel Swift, of the Class of 1800, remarked: “There was nothing scholastic about his appearance or manners. He was a man of plain and informal manners and mingled in society as other men who had no connection with a college.” Of the three, Smith showed by far the most scholastic ambitions of these early instructors. In addition to the Hebrew grammar, he published his own Latin and Greek grammars. He also composed an edition of Cicero’s De Oratore with relevant notes and a short life of the Roman orator. While today’s standards—which demand that professors are constantly pumping out new research and scholarship—differ greatly from those of the early days of the College, Smith was still able to differentiate himself via his scholastic products.

His pedological prowess, however, was a different question entirely. While he was no doubt knowledgeable on his subject matter, his teaching seemed to be rather dull. Judah Dana, of the class of 1795, put it bluntly when he said that Smith “was the best linguist in New England but did not know beans about anything else.” Smith was also a timid figure. He carried formal manners, and he was “utterly servile” to President John Wheelock. A story he was never able to live down was that one day, when entering the College, he came in with a frantic announcement that he had been chased by a bear and two cubs. Upon inspection, what Smith had actually been afraid of were only three tree stumps on the Green. While this tale does not paint him in the bravest of lights, many a great man has been terrified of the things that happen on the Green.

In addition to his teaching responsibilities, Smith and Wheelock had the misfortune of being the authorities who would address any late-night ruckus that was terrifying the campus. Perhaps this is one tradition that the College should not return to, as one could only imagine the horror that would ensue if Hanlon and a Greek Professor were to replace SnS on its walk-throughs down Webster Avenue.

John Smith was married twice. His first wife, Mary, died from complications in childbirth in 1781, and his second wife outlived him, dying in 1815. On April 30, 1809, Smith succumbed to consumption, dying at the ripe age of 57. His death proved untimely, as he was a loyal supporter of President Wheelock, and his passing opened up a seat on the Board of Trustees. A power struggle over control of the College ensued in the next decade and was eventually resolved in the famous case Dartmouth College v. Woodward.

He and his two wives are buried in the Dartmouth Cemetery near Wheelock, alongside many other important figures in Dartmouth’s early history. Also buried in Smith’s familial plot are one of his daughters and two of his sons, all three of whom also died of consumption, in their late teens and twenties. Consumption seems to have run in the family for the Smiths.

Just as many students do not know of or recognize the names that are plastered on the buildings that they frequent daily, John Smith’s legacy and impact has mostly been forgotten. The quite-small Smith dormitory seems to be the great monument of his legacy, and the mere fact that he does have this is impressive. Smith had a remarkable academic career for his time, and his contributions to the College were extremely valuable in the challenging times of the College’s early decades. His pedagogy left much to be desired, and his timid nature made him a subject of ridicule at times. However, John Smith should be credited with shouldering the load of language education at Dartmouth in its early years, a component of education that was essential to the curriculum of its time. Dartmouth now prides itself on its Rassias language program, but John Smith was one of the many great men of Dartmouth’s past who laid the foundation for what we are proud of today.