American colleges, Harvard not excepted are typically pictured as being sheltered Emug and ingrown.

But last year the war penetrated the Yard. and as the tempe of the European conflict quickened came to dominate the Harvard seene though here inevitably it was a war of words rather than of tanks.

Chief protagonists in the battle of Harvard were the "isolationists" represented by many of the articulate undergraduate groups and the "preparers" and "interventionists" including many Faculty members and administrative officers.

When College opened last September, the CRIMSON, which (with the "Progressive," Student Union organ) was to be throughout the year the spokesman for the anti-intervention group, urged all aid to the Allies short of war. For if England and France should start to lose the CRIMSON said, the pressure on America to intervene would be irresistible.

600 Join Peace Group

That a strong sentiment for non-intervention existed among the undergraduates last fall was established by the fact that the American Independence League, an organization dedicated to peace but having no specific aims except "keeping out of war" signed up 600 members in three or four days. Except for one brief outburst six months later, the A. I. L. disappeared as quickly as it came.

On October 18 the CRIMSON fired the first shot in the battle when it attacked President Conant (who had urged lifting the arms embargo), Bishop Manning of New York, and President Seymour of Yale, accusing them of "earning an unenviable place in the road gang that is trying to build for the United States a super-highway to Armageddon."

This set the tone for student anti-war agitation up until the invasion of Holland, and Belgium, at which time, although no formal poll of undergraduate sentiment was taken, the attitude of the undergraduates toward war could be summed up as follows: We will not fight just to preserve and restore democracy in Europe, and we see no direct threat to America in the present war--therefore we're against any involvement.

Isolationists Waver

It was after the invasion of the Lowlands, and the beginning of the Battle of France, that the isolationist front began to waver, and the war of words grew more bitter. Toward the end of May, 300 undergraduates signed a petition to President Roosevelt registering their determination "never, under any circumstances, to follow in the footsteps of the students of 1917." This raised a storm of protest in the press over the alleged defeatism and lack of patriotism of Harvard students.

A few days later an anonymous "Committee for the Recognition of Classroom Generals" sent tin toys to six professors, with cliations such as the following: "To Samuel H. Cross, an anti-aircraft gun to carry out his plan to defend the Women's Clubs of America from a fate worse than death."

Faculty Urge Aid, Defense

Throughout the year Faculty members, notably William Y. Elliott, professor of government, and James A. McLaughlin, professor of Law, joined President Conant in arguing for aid to Britain and active defense measures on two grounds: that democracy must be preserved and that America could not be ideologically isolated and still preserve democracy; and that it was to the direct military interest of America to prevent an Allied defeat.

The first argument was generally rejected by undergraduates, but as the German armies swept through Holland and Belgium, the second argument--that America was threatened with direct German pressure--began to take effect, and it is probable that a considerable swing in the direction of preparedness had occurred in undergraduate opinion by June.

Yet undergraduates were quick to resent intimations that they were yellow or lacking in patriotism. On Class Day late in June, the entire Senior Class, dressed in caps and gowns and seated in the Stadium for Class Day exercises, loudly booed the 1915 Ivy Orator when he said, "We were not too proud to fight," and hinted that perhaps the Class of 1940 was not so humble.