Part 2

Landskip, mentioned by Evelyn, is entitled “An exact and lively Mapp or Representation of Boothes, and all the Varieties of Showes and Humours upon the Ice, on the River of Thames by London, during that memorable Frost, 35th yeare of the Reign of his Sacred Majesty King Charles the Second. Anno Dni MDCLXXXIII. With an Alphabetical Explanation of the most remarkable figures.” It consists of a whole-sheet copper-plate engraving, the view extending from the Temple-stairs and Bankside to London-bridge. In an oval cartouche at the top within the frame of the print, is the title; and below the frame are the alphabetical references, with the words “Printed and sold by William Warter, Stationer, at the signe of the Talbott, under the Mitre Tavern in Fleete street, London.” In the foreground of this representation of Frost Fair appear extensive circles of spectators surrounding a bull-baiting, and the rapid revolution of a whirling-chair or car, drawn by several men, by a long rope fastened to a stake fixed in the ice. Large boats, covered with tilts, capable of containing a considerable number of passengers, and decorated with flags and streamers, are represented as being used for sledges, some being drawn by horses, and others by watermen, lacking their usual employment. Another sort of boat was mounted on wheels; and one vessel, called “the drum boat,” was distinguished by a drummer placed at the prow. The pastimes of throwing at a cock, sliding and skating, roasting an ox, football, skittles, pigeon-holes, cups and balls, &c., are represented as being carried on in various parts of the river; whilst a sliding-hutch, propelled by a stick; a chariot, moved by a screw; and stately coaches filled with visitors, appear to be rapidly moving in various directions, and sledges with coals and wood are passing between London and Southwark shores. An impression of this plate will be found in the Royal Collection of Topographical Prints and Drawings, given by George the Fourth to the British Museum, vol. xxvii., art. 39. There is also a variation of the same engraving in the City Library at Guildhall, divided with common ink into compartments, as if intended to be used as cards, and numbered in the margin, in type with Roman numerals, in sets of ten each, with two extra.

This famous frost gave rise to many pictures and poems. In the British Museum is a broadside as follows:

“A TRUE DESCRIPTION OF BLANKET FAIR UPON THE RIVER THAMES, IN THE TIME OF THE GREAT FROST IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD, 1683.”

How am I fill’d with wonder for to see A flooding river now a road to be, Where ships and barges used to frequent, Now may you see a booth of fudling tent; And those that us’d to ask where shall I land ye, Now cry, what lack ye, sir, beer, ale, or brandy? Here, here, walk in, and you shall surely find Your entertainment good, my usage kind. Booths they increased dayly, more and more, People by thousands flocking from the shore; And in such heaps they thither did repair, As if they had been hasting to a fair. And such a fair I never yet came near, Where shop-rents were so cheap, and goods so dear. Then might you have all kind of earthenware, You can scarce name a thing but what was there. There was to sell both French and Spanish wine, And yet, perhaps, a dishclout for a signe; In short, the like was never seen before, Where coaches run as if upon the shore; And men on horseback to and fro did ride, Not minding either current, or the tide: It was exceeding strange at first to see, Both men and women so advent’rous be; And yet at last it grew so very common, ’Twas not admir’d, it seemed strange to no man. Then from the Temple there was built a street, Made old and young, and all admire that see’t; Which street to Southwark reached. There might you see Wonders! if you did love variety, There was roast beef, and gamon to be sold, But at so dear a rate, I dare be bold To say, ’twas never sold so on the shore, Nor on the Thames, in haste, be any more. There were Dutch whimsies turning swiftly round, By which the owners cleared many a pound; And coles and corn was there in sledges draw’d, As if the Thames would never have been thaw’d. All kinds of trades did to this market come, Hoping to get more profit than at home: And some whose purses were a little swel’d, Would not have car’d how long the frost had held. In several places there was nine-pins plaid, And pidgeon holes for to beget a trade. Dancing and fidling too there was great store, As if they had not been from off the shore; The art of printing there was to be seen, Which in no former age had ever been; And goldsmiths’ shops were furnished with plate, But they must dearly pay for’t that would hav’t. And coffee-houses in great numbers were, Scattered about in this cold freezing fair, There might you sit down by a char-cole fire, And for your money have your heart’s desire, A dish of coffee, chocalet or tea, Could man desire more furnished to be? No, no, if you the world should wander through, No fair like this could pleasant seem to you. There was the baiting of the ugly bear, Which sport to see hundreds did repair, And I believe since the world’s first creation, The like was never seen in this our nation: And football playing there was day by day, Some broke their legs, and some their arms they say: All striving to get credit, but some paid Most dearly for it, I am half afraid. Bull-baiting likewise there was known to be, Which on the Thames before none ever see, And never was poor dogs more bravely tost Then they were, in this prodigious frost; Th’ inraged bull perceiv’d his enemies, And how to guard himself could not devise, But with his horns did toss them too and fro, As if their angry meaning he did know; Besides all this a thing more strange and rare Than all the things were seen in Freezland fair, An ox was roasted whole, which thousands saw, For ’twas not many dayes before the thaw; The like by no man in this present age Was ever seen upon this icy stage. And this hard frost it did so long endure, It pinch’d, and almost famish’d many poor. But one thing more I needs to you must tell The truth of which thousands do know full well, There was fox-hunting on this frozen river Which may a memorandum be for ever. For I do think since Adam drew his breath No Fox was hunted on the ice to death. Thus have you heard what wonders there were seen, How heaven and earth the people walk’d between. And since the world at first had its creation, The like was never seen in this our nation. Yet was it hard and grievous to the poor, Who many hungry bellies did endure. Sad spectacles enough you might behold Who felt th’ effect of this prodigious cold; But God who is most righteous, good, and just, Will them preserve who in him put their trust; And when their dangers greatest seem to be, Blest be his name, he then doth sit them free. Then let us all, while we have time and breath, Be still prepar’d to meet with pale-fac’d death. That when he comes we need not be afraid, Nor at his dart be frighted or dismaid; If we on Jesus Christ wholly depend, He’l prove to us an everlasting friend.

London: Printed by H. Brugis, in Green Arbor, Little Old Bayly. 1684.

The following is a copy of a broadside preserved in the British Museum:--

GREAT BRITAIN’S WONDER: OR, LONDON’S ADMIRATION.

Being a true Representation of a prodigious Frost, which began about the beginning of December, 1683, and continued till the fourth day of February following, and held on with such violence, that men and beasts, coaches and carts, went as frequently thereon, as boats were wont to pass before. There was also a street of booths built from the Temple to Southwark, where were sold all sorts of goods imaginable, namely, cloaths, plate, earthenware, meat, drink, brandy, tobacco, and a hundred sorts of other commodities not here inserted: it being the wonder of this present age, and a great consternation to all the spectators.

BEHOLD the wonder of this present age, A famous river now become a stage. Question not what I now declare to you, The _Thames_ is now both _fair_ and _market_ too; And many thousands dayly do resort, There to behold the pastime and the sport, Early and late, used by young and old, Who valu’d not the fierceness of the cold; And did not think of that Almighty hand Who made the waters bare, like to the land. Thousands and thousands to the river flocks, Where mighty flakes of ice do lye like rocks. There may you see the _coaches_ swiftly run, As if beneath the ice were waters none; And sholes of people every where there be, Just like to herrings in the brackish sea; And there the quaking water-men will stand ye, Kind master, drink you beer, or ale, or brandy? Walk in, kind sir, this booth it is the chief, We’l entertain you with a slice of beef, And what you please to eat or drink, ’tis here, No booth, like mine, affords such dainty cheer. Another crys, Here master, they but scoff ye, Here is a dish of famous new made coffee. And some do say a giddy senseless ass May on the Thames be furnished with a lass; But, to be short, such wonders there are seen, That in this age before hath never been. Before the Temple there a street is made, And there is one almost of every trade: There may you also this hard frosty winter, See on the rocky ice a working printer, Who hopes by his own heart to reap some gain, Which he perchance does think he may obtain. Here is also a lottery, and musick too, Yea, a cheating, drunken, leud, and debauch’d crew. Hot codlins, pancakes, duck, goose and sack, Rabit, capon, hen, turkey, and a wooden jack. In this same street before the Temple made, There seems to be a brisk and lively trade: Where ev’ry booth hath such a cunning sign, As seldome hath been seen in former time;[1]

And there, if you have money for to spend, Each cunning snap will seem to be your friend. There may you see small vessels under sail, All’s one to them, with or against the gale, And as they pass they little guns do fire, Which feedeth some, and puffs them with desire To sail therein, and when their money’s gone, ’Tis right, they cry, the Thames to come upon. There on a sign you may most plainly see’t, Here’s the first tavern built in Freezeland-street: There is bull-baiting and bear-baiting too, That no man living yet e’re found so true; And foot-ball play is there so common grown, That on the Thames before was never known; Coals being dear, are carry’d on men’s backs, And some on sledges these are drawn in sacks; Men do on horse-back ride from shore to shore, Which formerly in boats were wafted o’re: Poor people hard shifts make for livelihoods, And happy are if they can sell their goods; What you can buy for three-pence on the shore, Will cost you four-pence on the Thames or more. Now let me come to things more strange, yet true, And question not what I declare to you; There rosted was a great and well-fed oxe, And there, with dogs, hunted the cunning fox; Dancing o’th’ ropes, and puppit plays likewise, The like before ne’er seen beneath the skies; All stand admir’d, and very well they may, To see such pastimes, and such sort of play. Besides the things I nam’d to you before, There other toys and baubles are great store; There you may feast your wandring eyes enough, There you may buy a box to hold your snuff. No fair no market underneath the skies That can afford you more varieties; There you may see some hundreds slide in skeets, And beaten paths like to the city streets. There were Dutch whimsies turned swiftly round Faster then horses run on level ground. The like to this I now to you do tell No former age could ever parallel; There’s all that can supply most curious minds, With such varieties of cunning signs That I do think no man doth understand; Such merry fancies ne’r were on the land; There is such whimsies on the frozen ice, Make some believe the Thames a Paridice. And though these sights be to our admiration Yet our sins, our sins, do call for lamentation. Though such unusual frosts to us are strange, Perhaps it may predict some greater change; And some do fear may a fore-runner be Of an approaching sad mortality: But why should we to such belief incline? There’s none that knows but the blest Pow’r divine And whatsoe’re is from Jehovah sent, Poor sinners ought therewith to be content; If dreadfull, then to fall upon the knee, And beg remission of the Deity; But if beyond our thoughts he sends us store, With all our hearts let’s thankful be therefore. Now let us all in great Jehovah trust Who doth preserve the righteous and the just; And eke conclude sin is the cause of all The heavy judgments that on us do fall: And call to mind, fond man, thy time mispent, Fall on thy knees, and heartily repent; Then will thy Saviour pity take on thee, And thou shalt live to all eternity.

Printed by M. Haly and J. Miller, and sold by Robert Waltor, at the Globe, on the north side of St. Paul’s Church, near that end towards Ludgate, where you may have all sorts and sizes of maps, coppy-books, and prints, not only in English, but Italian, French, and Dutch; and by John Seller, on the west side of the Royal Exchange. 1684.

[1] Two lines omitted.

The foregoing is illustrated with a quaint wood-cut, roughly executed. It is reproduced in Mr. Mason Jackson’s “Pictorial Press,” (London, 1885), and by his courtesy we are able to include it in this work.

The following is a copy of a broadside preserved in the Ashmolean Museum. It was printed for J. Shad, London, in 1684.

A WINTER WONDER; OR THE THAMES FROZEN OVER, WITH REMARKS ON THE RESORT THERE.

WHEN Neptune saw a wondrous bridge built o’er His silver Thames, that reach’d from shore to shore, He shook his trident and with aweful frown, Swore ’twas presumption in the haughty town, Now laughs to see it standing useless o’re, Whilst ice has made it one continued shore, Under whose spreading roof he silent glides And ebbs, and hews, unheard, unseen, his tides. Greenland, Muscovy, sure their cold have lent, And all their frigid blasts have hither sent, Whilst Boreas with his keenest breath has blown, To make our winter cold as is there own: That if my inke was not congeal’d as it, I’de on the subject shew a poet’s wit. The fish lye closely in their watry bed, And find an icy ceiling o’re their head. They fear no anglers that do lye in wait, Nor are deceived by the alluring bait. The watermen with folded arms doe stand, And grieve to see the water firm as land, Their boats hal’d up, their oars laid useless by, Nor oars, nor skuller, master, do they cry, Wishing kind Zephyrus with a warmer gale Would once more launch their boat and fill their sail; Or that the sun would with his gentle flames Again set free their best of friends, the Thames. The shoars no longer sound with Westward hoe, Nor need men boats where they can firmly goe. See how the noble river in a trice Is turned as it were one spacious street of ice. And who’ld believe to see revived there, In January, Bartholomew fair. Where all the mobile in crowds resort, As on firm land, to walk, and trade, and sport; Now booths do stand where boats did lately row, And on its surface up and down men go, And Thames becomes a kind of raree-show. Its upper rooms are let to mortal dweller, And underneath it is god Neptune’s cellar; Now Vulcan makes his fires on Neptune’s bed, And sawcy cooks roast beef upon his head, As many tuns of ale and brandy flow Above the ice, as water do below; And folk do tipple, without fear to sink, More liquors then the fish beneath do drink. Here you may see a crowd of people flock, One’s heels fly up, and down he’s on his dock; Another steps, ’tis strange but true, no matter, And in he flounces up to th’ neck in water; And third more sure his slipp’ry footsteps guides, And safely o’er the ice away he slides; Another upon skeats does swiftly pass, Cutting the ice like diamonds upon glass. Women, beware you come not here at all, You are most like to slip and catch a fall, This you may do, tho’ in your gallant’s hand, And if you fall, he has no power to stand; Tis ten to one you tumble in a trice, For you are apt to fall where there’s no ice, Oft on your back, but seldome on your face, How can you stand then on such a slippery place? Yet you will venture briskly to a booth, To take a glass or two with youngster Smooth, Then back again as briskly to the shore, As wise and honest as you were before. Here (like the great) on slip’ry place you stand, They can nor fate, nor you your feet, command. My muse to scribble further has no maw, But for your good doe wish a speedy thaw, And let it ne’r be said ’twixt you and I, The winter’s cold, but move your charity. Then let the poor meanwhile your bounty find, And heav’n to you, as you to them prove kind.

The title of another broadside was the “Wonders of the Deep,” illustrated with a rude wood-cut, representing the Frost Fair. This intimated that it was “an exact Representation of the River Thames, as it appeared during the memorable Frost, which began about the middle of December, and ended on the 28th of February, anno 1683-4.” The lines under the picture are as follow:--

THE WONDERS OF THE DEEP.

The various sports behold here in this piece, Which for six weeks were seen upon the ice; Upon the Thames the great variety Of plays and booths is here brought to your eye. Here coaches, as in Cheapside, run on wheels, Here men (out-tipling of the fishes) reels: Instead of waves that us’d to beat the shore, Here bulls they bait, till loudly they do roar; Here boats do slide, where boats were wont to row, Where ships did sail, the sailors do them tow; And passengers in boats the river crost, For the same price as ’twas before the frost. There is the printing booth of wonderous fame, Because that each man there did print his name; And sure, in former ages, ne’re was found, A press to print, where men so oft were drown’d. In blanket booths, that sit at no ground rent, Much coin in beef and brandy there is spent. The Dutchmen here in nimble cutting scates, To please the crowd do shew their tricks and feats; The rabble here in chariots run around, Coffee, and tea, and mum, doth here abound, The tinkers here doth march at sound of kettle, And all men know that they are men of mettle: Here roasted was an ox before the court, Which to much folks afforded meat and sport; At nine-pins here they play, as in Moorfields, This place the pass-time us of foot-ball yields: The common hunt here makes another show, As he to hunt an hare is wont to go; But though no woods are here or hares so fleet. Yet men do often foxes catch and meet; Into a hole here one by chance doth fall, At which the watermen began to bawl, What, will you rob our cellar of its drink? When he, alas! poor man, no harm did think. Here men well mounted do on horses ride Here they do throw at cocks as at Shrovetide; A chariot here so cunningly was made, That it did move itself without the aid Of horse or rope, by virtue of a spring That Vulcan did contrive, who wrought therein. The rocks at nine-holes here do flock together As they are wont to do in summer weather. Three ha’perth for a penny, here they cry, Of gingerbread, come, who will of it buy? This is the booth where men did money take, For crape and ribbons that they there did make; But in six hours, this great and rary show Of booths and pastimes all away did go.

Printed in the year 1684.

[Sidenote: 1683-4]

In the parish register of Holy-rood Church, Southampton, is the following record of this winter’s remarkable frost:

“1683-4 This yeare was a great Frost, which began before Christmasse, soe that yᵉ 3rd and 4th dayes of this month February yᵉ River of Southampton was frossen all over and covered with ice from Calshott Castle to Redbridge and Tho: Martaine maʳ of a vessell went upon yᵉ ice from Berry near Marchwood to Milbrook-point. And yᵉ river at Ichen Ferry was so frossen over that severall persons went from Beauvois-hill to Bittern Farme, forwards and backwards.”

The following curious extract is from the Parochial Register at Ubley, near Wrington: “In the yeare 1683 was a mighty great frost, the like was not seene in England for many ages. It came upon a very deep snow, which fell imediately after Christmas, and it continued untill a Lady-day. The ground was not open nor the snow cleane gone off the earth in thirteene weeks. Somm of the snow remained at mindipe till midsummer. It was soe deepe and driven with the winde a gainst the hedges and stiles, that the next morning after it fell men could not goe to their grounds to serve their cattell without great danger of being buried, for it was above head and shoulders in many places--sum it did burie--did betooken the burieing of many more which came to pass before the end of the yeare; but in few days the frost came soe fearce, that people did goe upon the top of it over wals and stiles as on levell ground, not seeing hardly where they was, and many men was forced to keep their cattell untill the last, in the same ground that they was in at first, because they could not drive them to any other place, and did hew the ice every day for water, by reason of the sharpness of the frost and the deepness of the snow. Som that was travelling on mindipe did travell till they could travell no longer, and then lye down and dye, but mortality did prevaill most among them that could travell worst, the sharpness of the season tooke off the most parte of them that was aged and of them that was under infermities, the people did die so fast, that it was the greatest parte of their work (which was appointed to doe that worke) to burie the dead; it being a day’s work for two men, or two days’ work for one man, to make a grave. It was almost as hard a work to hew a grave out, in the earth, as in the rock, the frost was a foot and halfe and two foot deepe in the dry earth, and where there was moister and watter did runn, the ice was a yard and fower foot thick, in soe much that ye people did keepe market on the River at London; ‘God doth scatter his ice like morsels, man cannot abide his cold.’--Psalme, 147, 17.”

The following are particulars of the chief publications issued in connection with this frost:--