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National Geographic : 1974 Sep
Contents
poured himself an ale and took a long swal low. "We get quite a few Americans coming through Boston," he said. "Sometimes they'll stop off here for a drink and a yarn. Our little pub seems to interest them-because of its age, I suppose. This place was an alehouse when they were building the Stump." That was in the 15th century, when Bos ton traded heavily with cities of the Hanseatic League, the German trade association that controlled much of the commerce of Europe. Boston was a major English port, for a dec ade even rivaling London, and local mer chants, grown rich on the wool trade with the Continent, put up the money to provide the town with a splendid church. The foun dation stone was laid in 1309, though the tower was not begun until a century later. It is today one of the largest parish churches in England-almost like a cathedral. I entered the church by the south door, made of slabs of oak that dovetail. The interior seemed deserted; the sound of my footsteps echoed off the fluted columns and stone arches. Bits of light, fragmented and colored blue and crimson by stained glass, danced among gray shadows. Powerful Pulpiteer Stirred Dissent The ties that bind St. Botolph's and the Boston of New England are strong. As Puritanism gained adherents in the 17th century, many English Bostonians were in doctrinated at St. Botolph's by their vicar, the Reverend John Cotton. I walked toward the altar and stopped in front of the carved oak pulpit. "That has been here since 1612," said a young man in clerical clothes. Thus I met the Reverend Mark Spurrell, who is lecturer of St. Botolph's. "That pulpit was built the same year John Cotton became vicar of this church," he added. Cotton preached a particularly vigorous form of Puritanism, Mr. Spurrell related, and his congregation risked persecution. Some de cided to found a new colony in New England. In March 1630, the first party of Bostonians sailed in the Arbella, led by John Winthrop of Suffolk. Before that year was out, the com munity in which they settled in New Eng land was officially named Boston. Cotton did not go with Winthrop's group, but, as Mr. Spurrell explained, "Eventually his Puritan beliefs made it necessary for him to resign as vicar and get out of England. In 1633 he joined some of his flock who had already settled in the other Boston. Where upon, having been vicar of Boston, Lincoln shire, for 20 years, John Cotton became vicar of Boston, Massachusetts, for 19 years-until he died in 1652." In all, some 250 English Bostonians voy aged from the mother city to the New World offspring-including five men who were chosen governors of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and eight who were involved in founding Harvard College. Spicy Talk by a Butcher in a Boater I explored Boston streets with such fasci nating old names as Liquorpond, Shodfriars, and Wormgate, and visited small family-run shops. In one I met Jack Mountain, a jovial man in his late fifties who wore a straw boater and an apron of navy pinstripes. "Well, it's your sign of a master butcher, isn't it?" he said in explanation of the apron. The boater is an embellishment of his choosing. "I use only fresh herbs, luv-different ones for the different things I make," Jack said. "Sage for me pork sausages. Parsley for me stuffed chines. A bit of sandalwood for me haslet-that's like a pate. All of these are local specialities. And rosemary. I use rosemary too." He winked. "They say if rosemary thrives in the garden, mum is the boss." Jack tilted his boater rakishly. "Let me tell you, luv: No matter what I turn me hand to, it's bound to be delicious!" Jack's father, Tom Mountain, was mayor of Boston in 1938 when a New England Bos tonian, U. S. Ambassador Joseph P. Kennedy, dedicated the American Room of Fydell House, a Queen Anne-period mansion next door to the Guildhall. Since then the mansion has become Pilgrim College, offering adult education courses. But the American Room is kept ready for use by any visiting Yank who wishes to sit and relax for a while. The outdoor market, held every Wednes day and Saturday, is a Boston tradition. For color and variety it is surpassed only by the annual May Fair, when swings and rounda bouts (as the British sometimes call merry-go rounds) are added to the fun. I toured the stalls set up for market day. Fresh fish stared at me from marble slabs. Costume jewelry glittered on black velvet. I wandered past stacks of shirts and handbags, past birdcages, used sports cars, pens of live stock, and wooden crates of cabbages and other vegetables. "Quality caulies, 6P each," The OriginalBoston 387
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