Before Global Warming: The Last Of The London Frost Fairs
“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.” Two centuries ago today, this was how one poetic soul announced for the last time an event unlikely to be seen again – the freezing of the Thames.
On 1 February 1814, Londoners awoke to find that after weeks of bitter chill, drifting snow and a fog which resembled “darkness that might be felt”, the Thames had ground to an icy halt over a 1,000m stretch between Blackfriars and London Bridge.
The capital’s inhabitants responded by settling down to a raucous and bibulous mid-winter party in the shape of a five-day Frost Fair.
In a meteorological event which seems unthinkable from the vantage point of the relentlessly soggy winter of 2014, London and much of England was gripped by temperatures which fell to -13C, bringing chaos as roads became blocked with snow to depths of 6ft. Tales were legion of mail coaches becoming trapped in drifts and the poor, unable to afford coal, freezing in their homes.
But in the midst of wintry misery, a brief respite was afforded as the flow of the Thames in central London slowed, ice floes formed and finally on the morning of 1 February the principal means of transportation for the wealth of the emerging British Empire became a frozen pleasure gardens. Within hours, boatmen deprived of their normal living derived from ferrying passengers across the river had set up signs declaring it was safe to walk across the ice.
An engraving and etching shows the frost fair on the Thames, with St Paul’s Cathedral in the background, in February 1814 (Museum of London)
In his account of the event, Frostiana, a printer named George Davis said: “Many were induced to venture on the ice, and the example thus afforded, soon led thousands to perambulate the rugged plain, where a variety of amusements were prepared for their entertainment.”
Indeed, from temporary bars or “fuddling tents” fashioned from sail cloth and oars to sell strong concoctions of beer, gin and absinthe-like spirit to unconfirmed sightings of an ice-borne elephant, the sights and sounds of the Frost Fair were diverse.
Mr Davis, who set up a printing press on the ice to sell his book, wrote: “Among the more curious of these was the ceremony of roasting a small sheep, which was toasted or rather burnt, over a coal fire, placed in a large iron pan… The delicate meat when done, was a shilling a slice and termed Lapland mutton.”
Along with other diversions hurried onto the ice by enterprising hawkers, ranging from children’s swings to a gambling den, the fair rapidly became a hugely popular event with its own main street – signposted The City Road – and multiple hawkers selling souvenirs. Among the items which survive to this day is a piece of gingerbread wrapped in blue paper with a note that it had been bought on the frozen Thames.
Georgina Young of the Museum of London, which this week opened an exhibition on the Frost Fair at its Docklands Museum, said:
“London was the pre-eminent port in the world at this time and huge numbers of people depended on it for their livelihoods. So when the Thames froze over, it meant significant hardship. But it also brought with it opportunity in the shape of the Frost Fair.
People recognised it as a once in a lifetime opportunity and they revelled in it, from rich to poor. It would have been a rather raucous, unregulated gathering, but with real excitement. It was a very cold winter and here was a chance for some fun in a novel setting. I think the authorities were too busy [with other things] to show too much interest.”
February 1814 was also to be the last time Londoners could cross their river unaided by boat, bridge or tunnel, however. Since the Middle Ages, the Thames had frozen in central London 23 times and generated sufficiently thick ice for a frost fair on five occasions.
Gingerbread bought at the last Thames Frost Fair of 1814 (Museum of London)
But as the Little Ice Age of 1550 to 1850 faded, engineers performed the first of several deeds which ensured that, barring a dramatic side-effect of climate change, the river is highly unlikely to ever freeze again.