The first impression of the "island" which has been recorded is that of
Anne Pollard, who died in Boston, Dec. 6, 1725, at the age of 105 years,
and left over one hundred descendants. She always said that she came over
from Charlestown, in 1630, in the first boat that crossed with Gov.
Winthrop's party, and, being what might now be called a romping girl for
those times, ten years of age, was "the first to jump ashore;" and she
afterwards described the place "as being at that time very uneven,
abounding in small hollows and swamp, and covered with blueberry and other
bushes." We do not think there is any one inclined to dispute this
statement, or question its truthfulness.
There are several descriptions of early Boston, topographical and
otherwise, which have been quoted by subsequent writers upon the subject,
rather as curious and original than as having any particular merit in
themselves. First among these is that of Capt. Edward Johnson, in his
"Wonder-Working Providence of Sion's Saviour in New England," written
about 1640. He describes it as surrounded by the brinish flood, "saving
one small Istmos which gives free access to the neighbor townes," and
says, "At their first landing the hideous thickets in this place were such
that wolfes and beares nurst up their young from the eyes of all
beholders.... The forme of this Towne is like a hearte, naturally situated
for fortifications, having two hills on the frontice part thereof next the
sea." These were Fort and Mill (Copps') Hills. "Betwixt these two strong
armes lies a large cove or bay, on which the chiefest part of the town is
built, overtopped with a third hill" (Sentry or Beacon Hill). There were
two smaller hills on the Common, on one of which Gen. Gage afterwards
built a battery, when the town was in his military possession, and on the
other a powder-house.
Another curious description of Boston is given in Wood's "New England's
Prospect:"--
"Boston is two miles North-east from Roxberry. His situation is very
pleasant, being a Peninsula hemm'd in on the south side with the Bay
of Roxberry, and on the north side with Charles River, the marshes on
the back side being not half a quarter of a mile over; so that a
little fencing will secure their cattle from the woolves. It being a
Necke and bare of wood, they are not troubled with those great
annoyances, wolves, rattlesnakes and musquetoes.... This Necke of Land
is not above four miles in compasse, in forme almost square, having on
the south side at one corner a great broad hill, whereon is planted a
Fort, which can command any ship as shee sayles into any Harbour
within the still Bay. On the north side is another Hill equall in
bignesse, whereon stands a winde mill. To the north-west is a high
Mountaine, with three little rising Hills on the top of it, wherfore
it is called Tramount.... This town although it be neither the
greatest, nor the richest, yet is the most noted and frequented,
being the Center of the Plantations, where the monthly Courts are
kept. Here likewise dwells the Governor. This place hath very good
land, affording rich Corne-fields, and fruitful gardens, having
likewise sweete and pleasant springs."
There were two large coves projecting into the peninsula,--one from the
harbor and one from Charles River, nearly opposite to each other, and
producing the narrow portion of the land already spoken of, so that if the
peninsula was not formed of two islands originally, as has been supposed,
the cutting of a creek across this narrow portion, nearly on the line of
Blackstone Street, and uniting the waters of the two coves, had the effect
practically to make it so, at least at such times as the waters of Charles
River and the harbor met across the neck, near Roxbury; so that the
peninsula can hardly be said to have been heart-shaped, much less square.
But the most curious description of Boston, though it may hardly be called
such, is that given by Edward Ward--a low, but ingenious and scandalous
author, whose book cannot enter a decent presence--in his "Trip to New
England."[1] He says of "Boston and the Inhabitants,"--
"On the south-west side of Massachusetts Bay is Boston, whose name is
taken from the Town in Lincolnshire, and is the Metropolis of all New
England. The houses, in some parts, join as in London. The buildings,
like their women, being neat and handsome. And their streets, like the
hearts of the male inhabitants, are paved with pebble.
"In the chief or High Street there are stately edifices, some of which
have cost the owners two or three thousand pounds the raising, which I
think plainly proves two old adages true, viz., That a fool and his
money is soon parted; and, Set a beggar on horseback he'll ride to the
devil; for the fathers of these men were tinkers and pedlars.
"To the glory of religion, and the credit of the town, there are four
churches, built with clapboards and shingles, after the fashion of our
meeting houses; which are supply'd by four ministers, to whom some,
very justly, have applied these epithets, one a scholar, the second a
gentleman, the third a dunce, and the fourth a clown."
These extracts afford no idea of the scandalous character of the book, nor
do even sentences like these: "The women, like the men, are excessive
smokers." "They smoke in bed, smoke as they knead their bread, smoke
whilst they are cooking their victuals, smoke at prayers," &c. "Eating,
drinking, smoking, and sleeping take up four parts in five of their time,"
&c. "Rum, alias kill-devil, is as much ador'd by the American English, as
a dram of brandy is by an old billingsgate," &c. We can give our readers
no further idea of the gross and indecent character of the whole volume,
without offending in the way the author has done.