HELL'S BELLS

Decision of the Harvard Corporation to resume Sunday concerts on the Lowell House tower bells will be greeted with mixed feelings in various quarters. There are, of course, persons who like nothing better of a Sunday afternoon than the healthy clamor of a nice, big Russian carillon. There are others who can take their carillons or leave them, and there is a third group to whom the thing is exquisite torture.

The question, however, has many angles besides that of personal taste. Leagues for the defense of the rights of the individual will surely rise up to protest the regimentation of greater Boston's population into the ranks of the carillon audience. The Lowell House bells are not ordinary bells. It is the boast of the University that "under favorable conditions" they can be heard for a distance of fifteen miles. Among the million men, women, and children in that radius there are many sincere, conscientious objectors to bells in general, and to extra-size, extraloud ones in particular. Now it may be argued that good bell music benefits the listener, even though he may not know it, but such an attitude smacks of paternalism. Besides, the University with candor worthy of the Veritas on its seal confesses that the Lowell House bells are not tuned in "any recognizable tone sequence."

One more consideration might be worthy of note. It was not revealed whether the three men required to operate the twenty-nine tons of bells will be dilletante amateurs or professionals. In the latter case, the Sunday concerts would be eminently in keeping with New Deal re-employment programs. It is hoped, in any case, that in voting their momentous action the Corporation considered well its myriad aspects and ramifications and were in no way influenced by pressure from the Cambridge Local of the Amalgamated Bell-Ringers Union.