Music Professor Rings Lowell House Bells Since Imported Russian Ringer Drank Ink in Stillman

The 26 tons of metal that make up the bells of Lowell House will not ring out next Sunday morning to shatter the exam period silence, guaranteed Arthur T. Merritt, associate professor of Music and present incumbent of the office of bell-ringer, yesterday.

Tuned to an Eastern scale of harmonies which require a certain amount of experience, appreciation, and patience before it can be fully appreciated, the bells now ring at about one month intervals, the concerts coming on the day of rest and effectively warning residents of the Houses that dinner time has arrived.

13 Tons to 22 Pounds

There are 16 bells, ranging from a metal monster of 13 tons to a woo rascal mere pounds. There should be 17 to fill up the set in the true Russian manner, but the fourth from the largest was found before their installation to be in a different key from the others, or a one inhabitant of the House put it, "even more out of key than the others," and so it was sent across the river to the Business School, where it now rings for the end of classes.

The bells are a true Russian Zvon, or carillon, and once were the pride and joy of the Dansilovsky, or Danailov Monastery, in Moscow, and they were given to the University by Charles R. Crane, former United States Minister to China.

Crane Fond of Russia

Crane, who rose to fame as the nation's leading manufacturing of plumbing, traveled widely through Europe after the War and was struck by the charm of the Russian bells. On his return to this country he offered a set to President Lowell who, grateful for a chance to add a little English atmosphere to the Cambridge scene through the means of a bit of change-ringing, accepted.

Through the efforts of Thomas Whittemore, keeper of Byzantine Coins and Seals in Fogg Museum and Fellow for Research in Byzantine Art, Crane was able to obtain the bells, after assuring the Soviet government, which was unwilling to let the carillon out of the country if it was to be used for religious purposes, that Harvard was not a religious institution.

Russian Bell Ringer

With the bells came a Russian bell-ringer, one Saradjeff, who was commissioned to direct installation of the Zvon and then to teach their playing.

Now Zvon-playing is more an art than a science, and the true Zvon-player learns the trade from his father, who learned it from his, who learned it form his. Saradjeff was the son of a father and mother both of whom played the bells, and when he came to this country, he had already composed 132 symphonies for the Russian carillon. It was said that he could recognize any of the 4000 bells in Moscow by its tone.

Tendency to Fits

Besides a lack of anything like an elementary knowledge of English, he had a tendency toward fits. He got the bells safely up in their tower in the fall of 1930 and had a fit soon after.

When installed in Stillman he thought, quite naturally, that he was being poisoned, as he was a Russian and used to better things. And one morning when the doctors found him drinking a bottle of ink as a remedy, it wad decided that he had best return to the land of caviar.

With Saradjeff gone there was the problem of finding someone to play the bells. For a while tow professors from Columbia and Smith alternated on successive Sundays (in those days the bells were played every week, if not more often). Mason Hammond '25, associate professor of Classics and History, and at that time head tutor of Lowell House, who had acquired a penchant for playing the bells, performed between times when occasions arose on which it was deemed fitting for the bells to be rung.