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.
[Illustration: FROST FAIR ON THE THAMES.
Copy of an engraving from a broadside entitled: “_Great Britain’s Wonder,
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._” _etc._]
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:--