On Thursday, Feb. 3, the number of adventurers increased. Swings, bookstalls, dancing in a barge, suttling-booths, playing at skittles, and almost every appendage of a fair on land, appeared now on the Thames. Thousands flocked to this singular spectacle of sports and pastimes. The ice seemed to be a solid rock, and presented a truly picturesque appearance. The view of St. Paul’s and of the city with the white foreground had a very singular effect;—in many parts, mountains of ice upheaved resembled the rude interior of a stone quarry.
Friday, Feb. 4. Each day brought a fresh accession of “pedlars to sell their wares;” and the greatest rubbish of all sorts was raked up and sold at double and treble the original cost. Books and toys, labelled “bought on the Thames,” were in profusion. The watermen profited exceedingly, for each person paid a toll of twopence or threepence before he was admitted to “Frost Fair;” some douceur was expected on the return. Some of them were said to have taken six pounds each in the course of a day.
This afternoon, about five o’clock, three persons, an old man and two lads, were on a piece of ice above London-bridge, which suddenly detached itself from the main body, and was carried by the tide through one of the arches. They laid themselves down for safety, and the boatmen at Billingsgate, put off to their assistance, and rescued them from their impending danger. One of them was able to walk, but the other two were carried, in a state of insensibility, to a public-house, where they received every attention their situation required.
Many persons were on the ice till late at night, and the effect by moonlight was singularly novel and beautiful. The bosom of the Thames seemed to rival the frozen climes of the north.
Saturday, Feb. 5. This morning augured unfavourably for the continuance of “Frost Fair.” The wind had veered to the south, and there was a light fall of snow. The visitors, however, were not to be deterred by trifles. Thousands again ventured, and there was still much life and bustle on the frozen element; the footpath in the centre of the river was hard and secure, and among the pedestrians were four donkies; they trotted a nimble pace, and produced considerable merriment. At every glance, there was a novelty of some kind or other. Gaming was carried on in all its branches. Many of the itinerant admirers of the profits gained by E O Tables, Rouge et Noir, Te-totum, wheel of fortune, the garter, &c. were industrious in their avocations, and some of their customers left the lures without a penny to pay the passage over a plank to the shore. Skittles was played by several parties, and the drinking tents were filled by females and their companions, dancing reels to the sound of fiddles, while others sat round large fires, drinking rum, grog, and other spirits. Tea, coffee, and eatables, were provided in abundance, and passengers were invited to eat by way of recording their visit. Several tradesmen, who at other times were deemed respectable, attended with their wares, and sold books, toys, and trinkets of almost every description.
Towards the evening, the concourse thinned; rain began to fall, and the ice to crack, and on a sudden it floated with the printing presses, booths, and merry-makers, to the no small dismay of publicans, typographers, shopkeepers, and sojourners.
A short time previous to the general dissolution, a person near one of the printing presses, handed the following jeu d’esprit to its conductor; requesting that it might be printed on the Thames.
To Madam Tabitha Thaw.
“Dear dissolving dame,
“Father Frost and Sister Snow have Boneyed my borders, formed an idol of ice upon my bosom, and all the Lads of London come to make merry: now as you love mischief, treat the multitude with a few CRACKS by a sudden visit, and obtain the prayers of the poor upon both banks. Given at my own press, the 5th Feb. 1814. Thomas Thames.”