‘An Exact and lively Mapp or Representation of … the River of Thames … During that memorable Frost …’ (1683) A whole street of booths, contiguous to each other, was built from the Temple Stairs to the barge-house in Southwark, which were inhabited by traders of all sorts, which usually frequent fairs and markets, as those who deal in earthenwares, brass, copper, tin, and iron, toys and trifles; and besides these, printers, bakers, cooks, butchers, barbers, coffee-men, and others, who were so frequented by the innumerable concourse of all degrees and qualities, that, by their own confession, they never met elsewhere the same advantages, every one being willing to say they did lay out such and such money on the river of Thames.   Londoners seeking sun and retail therapy have been taking advantage of the many markets the city has to offer. This is not the opportunity for a power-shop; a laidback attitude is crucial to weave through the growing crowds. Just be thankful pedestrians moving at a snail’s pace is a market’s primary obstacle, as London’s history reveals precedent of a much more hazardous market experience than Portobello Road. The last time the Thames froze over in 1814, London held the last of its “Frost Fairs”. The Thames had frozen over a total of 26 times since 1400, and the first fair was organised in 1608. This woodcut, executed in 1683, depicts the fair during what is known as the “great freeze”, during which stalls and booths occupied the Thames. The river had frozen over 6 weeks before Christmas, and remained solid until February. John Evelyn’s diary informs us about the event:   Coaches plied from Westminster to the Temple, and from several other stairs too and fro, as in the streets, sleds, sliding with skates, bull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet plays and interludes, cooks, tippling and other lewd places, so that it seemed to be a bacchanalian triumph, or carnival on the water.   Published in 1608, The great frost. Cold doings in London is an account of the first fair, and includes a description of some of the disasters witnessed:  ‘some have fallen in up to the knees, others to their middle, others to the arme-pittes, yea, and some have been ducked over head and eares, yet have crawled out like drowned Rats, while others have suncke to the bottome that never rose againe to the top, and they had a cold bed to lye in.’ So, the next time you find yourself enraged after being cut-off by a twenty-something yielding rhubarb and a plethora of 19th century jelly moulds, think of the Frost Fairs, and be thankful you’re on steady ground.        

‘An Exact and lively Mapp or Representation of … the River of Thames … During that memorable Frost …’ (1683)

A whole street of booths, contiguous to each other, was built from the Temple Stairs to the barge-house in Southwark, which were inhabited by traders of all sorts, which usually frequent fairs and markets, as those who deal in earthenwares, brass, copper, tin, and iron, toys and trifles; and besides these, printers, bakers, cooks, butchers, barbers, coffee-men, and others, who were so frequented by the innumerable concourse of all degrees and qualities, that, by their own confession, they never met elsewhere the same advantages, every one being willing to say they did lay out such and such money on the river of Thames.

 

Londoners seeking sun and retail therapy have been taking advantage of the many markets the city has to offer. This is not the opportunity for a power-shop; a laidback attitude is crucial to weave through the growing crowds. Just be thankful pedestrians moving at a snail’s pace is a market’s primary obstacle, as London’s history reveals precedent of a much more hazardous market experience than Portobello Road.

The last time the Thames froze over in 1814, London held the last of its “Frost Fairs”. The Thames had frozen over a total of 26 times since 1400, and the first fair was organised in 1608. This woodcut, executed in 1683, depicts the fair during what is known as the “great freeze”, during which stalls and booths occupied the Thames. The river had frozen over 6 weeks before Christmas, and remained solid until February. John Evelyn’s diary informs us about the event:

 

Coaches plied from Westminster to the Temple, and from several other stairs too and fro, as in the streets, sleds, sliding with skates, bull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet plays and interludes, cooks, tippling and other lewd places, so that it seemed to be a bacchanalian triumph, or carnival on the water.

 

Published in 1608, The great frost. Cold doings in London is an account of the first fair, and includes a description of some of the disasters witnessed:

 ‘some have fallen in up to the knees, others to their middle, others to the arme-pittes, yea, and some have been ducked over head and eares, yet have crawled out like drowned Rats, while others have suncke to the bottome that never rose againe to the top, and they had a cold bed to lye in.’

So, the next time you find yourself enraged after being cut-off by a twenty-something yielding rhubarb and a plethora of 19th century jelly moulds, think of the Frost Fairs, and be thankful you’re on steady ground.

 

 

 

 

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