Twelve Centuries of Manuscripts and Rare Books
at Dartmouth College

(A PDF version is available Collecting.pdf)

By Philip N. Cronenwett, former Special Collections Librarian
Image Credits: Joseph Mehling and Jeffrey Nintzel

Part One

When Kathy Hart, the Hood's Curator of Academic Programming, first approached us with the idea of a library exhibition in an art museum, I was more than pleasantly surprised. While the Hood and the library have maintained a working relationship that is closer and more fruitful than at most academic institutions, I was aware of the commitment - the effort - that the Hood was offering to make in extending this invitation. So, I am most grateful to Kathy for this opportunity to exhibit some of the many treasures of Rauner Library. I am also grateful to her colleagues at the Hood for the efforts and support they have provided. In particular, I thank Juliette Bianco, who tolerated more than one of my tantrums, and Kellen Haak, Evelyn Marcus, and Nick Nobili. Derrick Cartwright is fortunate to have associates of this caliber. Finally, I wish to acknowledge the generous support of the Bernard R. Siskind 1955 Fund in mounting the exhibition.

One of the most sensible bits of advice on public speaking was given by Lewis Carroll in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland where he wrote:

"Where shall I begin, please your Majesty," he asked. "Begin at the beginning," the King said, gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop."

And that is what I propose to do this afternoon; taking, however, the academic's prerogative of various leisurely digressions along the way.

We in the library have always maintained that the library itself is older than the college, a claim that - while it can be proven - gains us little beyond the hoary seniority of a few years. It was in 1764 that books were sent by George Whitefield, the British Methodist divine, to Eleazar Wheelock for the use of the college - to - be. Later gifts, particularly from Theodore Atkinson and the Society in Scotland for Propagating Christian Knowledge, insured that a library would flourish in the wilderness along with the college. It was as a result of these generous acts that Jeremy Belknap could write, in 1774, that "The Library is kept at Mr. Woodward's. It is not large, but there are some very good books in it." The Mr. Woodward to whom Belknap refers, is Bezaliel Woodward, considered the first librarian of the college. He was in charge of the nearly 400 volumes in the library, most of which were theological in nature and most of which are yet housed in the Woodward Room in Baker Library.

The college library remained in Woodward's house, or in the home of second president John Wheelock, often co - mingled with the president's own books, until Dartmouth Hall

was constructed and the library removed to that building in 1791. The library remained there until Reed Hall was built in 1840 and the eastern half of the second floor of the new structure became the library. Wilson Hall

was the first building constructed as a library and the collections were moved there in 1885. The interior

with the entire staff and the circulation desk

with Librarian of the College Bisbee in attendance. By collections, it must be understood, I mean not only the college library but also the libraries of the United Fraternity and the Society of Social Friends, both of whose libraries were considerably more robust and useful than the college library during most of the 19th century. I will not rehearse the litany of fees and charges - steep though they were - assessed each student for use of the collections, nor the hours of operation - one or two a week - nor the loan rules - borrow one, return one. I will suggest, however, that the library has become rather more liberal in the intervening centuries in its vision of collections, hours, and loan rules.

In the twentieth century, there were rapid changes in the size and shape of the library as well as in means of access. Baker Library was constructed in 1928, other libraries followed so that by the end of the century, there were eleven libraries on the campus and in adjacent Lebanon. One of the newest is Rauner Library in Webster Hall,

the treasures of which are the subject of this presentation and the exhibition. Rauner Library,

renovated and opened in 1998, holds approximately 126,000 rare books, a half million photographs, and over 6.5 million manuscripts in its special collections.

If Eleazar Wheelock is rightly considered the founder of the college library, then Isaiah Thomas must be considered the refounder of the library after the terrible depredation of the college/university controversy. In 1815 and 1816, the president of the college John Wheelock and some of the trustees - reacting to a change in the political climate in the state capital - moved to amend the charter of the college and add trustees who would agree with their political inclinations. Other members of the college disputed the change in the charter and appealed to the judiciary for relief. Daniel Webster, Class of 1801,

argued the case through the courts to the US Supreme Court where he stated, perhaps, that "it is a small college, sir, but there are those of us who love it." Whether or not Webster actually said this is not germane, nor is it important that Trustees v Woodward set case law for contracts that is still cited. What is important is that the college library was literally caught in the middle of the fracas and was very nearly destroyed by the competing forces.

In an effort to rebuild the institution in 1820, college officers visited many individuals throughout New England to raise funds. When Isaiah Thomas was approached, he declined to give money and instead offered books. Thomas was a patriot, a rebel, a printer, a publisher, an historian of the book, and a huckster. His printing establishment in Worcester, Massachusetts, was one of the finest in America. His presentation of 360 titles, most of which he had himself printed or published, formed the core of the college library as it was being reconstructed. The vast majority of these books remain a part of the library's collections.

It would appear that in each century of the college's history, there is one figure who stands out as critical to the development of the library and, in particular, to the development of the special collections. In the 18th century, it was certainly Eleazar Wheelock; in the 19th it was Isaiah Thomas; and in the 20th it must surely have been Harold Goddard Rugg.

A graduate of the Class of 1906, Mr. Rugg immediately after graduation became library assistant and secretary in Wilson Hall and continued to serve in the library until his retirement in 1953 as Associate Librarian of the College. Along the way, he taught a course in the history and art of the book, and developed special collections of international repute. It was he, for example, who felt strongly that if a student needed to see a cuneiform tablet, or a Tibetan prayer block, or a medieval manuscript, or a Hebrew scroll, or hieroglyphics on papyrus, that student ought to be able to walk into special collections and expect to see and handle suchlike items. As a result, there are very few forms of writing or printing for which we do not have examples.

Mr. Rugg also was responsible for many of the foci of special collections. The history of the book that is founded in the Presses and the Illustrated Books collections, the history of the White Mountains, the New Hampshire imprints collection, the collections of the printed and manuscript work of alumni, the college history collection - all of these owe their origins to Mr. Rugg. And it is also to Mr. Rugg that we owe the the attitude in the library toward access. He felt, rightly so, that if the library owned an object, no matter how rare and how precious, it was owned so that it could be used by students. This was in his day a radical approach to rare books and manuscripts. In other institutions, such materials were locked away and were certainly not for the use of students. Fortunately for Dartmouth, Mr. Rugg's position prevailed here and rare books and manuscripts were - and still are - readily available to anyone who has an interest. This accessibility of materials contined after Mr. Rugg's retirement and made the library singular in its approach amongst academic libraries for several decades longer. While Dartmouth made it a practice to welcome undergraduates into its rare book reading rooms, others did not - and did not open wide their doors until the last decade of the century.

What to collect in a special collections library is sometimes decided by major gifts; sometimes driven by curatorial knowledge of the curriculum and close association with faculty; sometimes determined by the ability of the curator to foresee future needs; and sometimes dictated by dumb luck. One of the best descriptions of the boundaries of collecting and the potential for making long - term decisions with only short - term information can be found in Margaret Atwood's poem "Girl Without Hands" where she writes:

"Distance surrounds you, marked out by the ends of your arms when they are stretched to their fullest. You can go no farther than this, you think, walking forward, pushing the distance in front of you . . . "

Atwood has captured both the chance and the challenge of developing collections in a very short passage. This is reinforced in the poem "Heading Out" by Philip Booth, Class of 1947,

where he begins:

"Beyond here there's no map. How you get there is where you'll arrive;"

and concludes:

"Slowly as it may otherwise tell you, whatever it comes to you're bound to know."

This poem is from his volume Selves and later reprinted in Lifelines.

Philip Booth, as you might suspect, is an important focus of our collecting interests.

Forward to page two.