Thanks to these and other friends, the annual free income from investments had climbed to 728 pounds by 1732. Two years later, the College devised a new scheme for financial stability. From that date forward, revenue raising and hell raising would take place simultaneously.

The College Laws of 1734 levied a five shilling fine for "Fighting; lying; drunkeness; tumultuous and indecent noises; and going on roof of old Harvard or cutting lead from same." The penalty was ten shillings for "Profane cursing an swearing; playing cards or dice; neglecting analysis of scripture; walking or other disturbances on the Sabbath; and firing gun or pistol in Yard."

There followed a third group of still more serious offenses, and if the treasurer and logic had had their way, the fine for these acts might have been one pound. The Laws of 1734, however, decreed expulsion for such offenders.

Just how much revenue accrued from undergraduate misbehavior the records fail to state, but it is likely that the figure was insignificant compared to that of funds invested in private notes, bonds, and mortagages. The books are a little hazy even on investment totals, however, for it was during the 1770's that one of American's greatest patriots and undoubtedly Harvard's worst treasurer, John Hancock earned his dual reputation.

Wrapped up in the cause of the tyrannized colonies, Hancock was frequently out of town and handled the University's funds without troubling to keep books. By 1776, the school had had enough, but Hancock paid no attention to hints that he resign his stewardship.

Finally in 1777, the Corporation at the request of the overseers replaced him with Ebenezer Storer. While presiding over the Continental Congress, Hancock reluctantly turned over to a tutor 16,000 pounds sterling of the school's securities. The tutor had to sneak through enemy lines to return to Cambridge. And from time to time thereafter, Hancock gave back other notes as he ran across them.

Still Not Settled

But even as late as 1783, the Overseers reported that "it it not known yet what the late treasurer had received and paid." Hancock--by then governor of the Commonwealth--was enraged by this "indignity" and immediately switched his two sons from his alma mater to Yale.

Nevertheless, his conscience must have been bothering him, for he offered to build a fence around the Yard. He was thanked by a still untrusting University, which demanded he pay cash in advance for the fence.

Finally in 1785, the Governor acknowledged that he owed Harvard a balance of 1,054 pounds from his stewardship. He acknowledged it, that is, but died in 1793 without ever having paid a cent of it. Hancock's heirs, however, promised restitution and by 1802 had paid off the whole debt plus simple interest; yet the University is still out $526 of compound interest from its unfortunate appointment.

This settlement, of course, was only a minor irritation compared to the real problems of finance during the Revolution which were inherited by Hancock's successor. Treasurer Storer's faith and foresight led him to buy Continental Loan Certificates during these years of incredible inflation, and the Harvard history books single him out as one of the University's greatest heroes. Whether or not he saved the school from "hopeless bankruptcy," Storer's feat of raising the College's personal estate from $55,000 in 1777 to $182,000 some 16 years later was truly remarkable.

From then on, the rapid enrichment of the University paralleled that of the nation. While aiding the latter magnificently, Hancock had failed in his unintentional efforts to thwart the former. Harvard's investments climbed to over half a million dollars by 1830, to over a million by the outbreak of the Civil War, and to over ten million at the turn of the century.

While the University prospered along with and because of the growth in national income, in some few instances the progress of the young republic came at the expense of Harvard assets. Shares of the Charles River Bridge and the Middlesex Canal were written off a "Doubtful and Desperate Debt" after a free bridge was built alongside the one and a railroad was set up along the other. Neither the U.S. Supreme Court nor the Massachusetts Legislature would save the school from these losses.

At any rate, the College made more correct investment decisions than incorrect ones, and the phenomenal rise in assets can be attributed largely to the sound policies of University treasurers--all of whom have had professional experience in financial matters since the appointment of Boston merchant Thomas Brattle in 1693.

Faculty Isn't Consulted