Chapter V: Preface (4)

If a female be in the room she is usually saluted, if not, the horns _must_ be kissed: the option was not allowed formerly. As soon as the salutation is over the swearer-in commands “silence!” and then addressing himself to his new-made “son,” he says, “I have now to acquaint you with your privilege as a freeman of this place. If at any time you are going through Highgate and want to rest yourself, and you see a pig lying in a ditch you have liberty to kick her out and take her place; but if you see three lying together you must only kick out the middle one and lie between the other two! God save the king!” This important privilege of the freemen of Highgate was first discovered by one Joyce a blacksmith, who a few years ago kept the Coach and Horses, and subjoined the agreeable information to those whom “he swore in.”

When the situation of things and persons seems to require it, the “bottle of wine” is sometimes compounded for by a modus of sundry glasses of “grog,” and in many cases a pot of porter.

* * * * *

There is one circumstance essential for a freeman of Highgate to remember, and “_that_ is the first word of his oath,--mind _that_!” If he fail to recollect _that_, he is subject to be resworn from time to time, and so often, until he remember _that_. He is therefore never to forget the injunction before he swears, to take notice what is said, “for _that_ is the first word of your oath--mind _that_!” Failure of memory is deemed want of comprehension, which is no plea in the high court of Highgate--“mind _that_!” That is, that _that_ “that,” is “_that_.”

* * * * *

There is no other formality in the administration or taking of this oath, than what is already described; and the only other requisite for “a stranger in _Highgate_” to be told, is, that now in the year 1826, there are nineteen licensed houses in this village, and that at each of these houses the “horns” are kept, and the oath administered by the landlord or his deputy.

To note the capabilities of each house, their signs are here enumerated, with the quality of horns possessed by each.

1. THE GATE-HOUSE is taken first in order, as being best entitled to priority, because it has the most respectable accommodation in Highgate. Besides the usual conveniences of stabling and beds, it has a coffee-room, and private rooms for parties, and a good assembly-room. The horns there are Stag’s.

2. Mitre, has Stag’s horns.

3. Green Dragon, Stag’s horns.

4. Red Lion and Sun, Bullock’s horns.

The late husband of Mrs. Southo, the present intelligent landlady of this house, still lives in the recollection of many inhabitants, as having been a most facetious swearer in.

5. Bell, Stag’s horns. This house now only known as the sign of the “Bell,” was formerly called the “Bell and Horns.” About fifty years ago, it was kept by one Anderson, who had his “horns” over his door, to denote that persons were sworn there as well as at the Gate-house. Wright, the then landlord of the “Red Lion and Sun,” determined not to be outrivalled, and hung out a pair of bullock’s horns so enormous in size, and otherwise so conspicuous, as to eclipse the “Bell and Horns;” at last, all the public houses in the village got “horns,” and swore in. It is within recollection that every house in Highgate had “the horns” at the door as a permanent sign.

6. Coach and Horses, Ram’s horns.
7. Castle, Ram’s horns.
8. Red Lion, Ram’s horns.
9. Wrestler’s, Stag’s horns.
10. Bull, Stag’s horns.
11. Lord Nelson, Stag’s horns.
12. Duke of Wellington, Stag’s horns.

This house is at the bottom of Highgate Hill, towards Finchley, in the angle formed by the intersection of the old road over the hill, and the road through the archway to Holloway. It therefore commands the Highgate entrance into London, and the landlord avails himself of his “eminence” at the foot of the hill, by proffering his “horns” to all who desire to be free of Highgate.

13. Crown, Stag’s horns. This is the first public house in Highgate coming from Holloway.

14. Duke’s Head, Stag’s horns.
15. Cooper’s Arms, Ram’s horns.
16. Rose and Crown, Stag’s horns.
17. Angel, Stag’s horns.
18. Flask, Ram’s horns.

This old house is now shut up. It is at the top of Highgate Hill, close by the pond, which was formed there by a hermit, who caused gravel to be excavated for the making of the road from Highgate to Islington, through Holloway. Of this labour old Fuller speaks, he calls it a “two-handed charity, providing water on the hill where it was wanting, and cleanliness in the valley which before, especially in winter, was passed with difficulty.”

19. Fox and Crown, Ram’s Horns.

This house, commonly called the “Fox” and the “Fox under the Hill,” is nearly at the top of the road from Kentish Town to Highgate, and though not the most remarked perhaps, is certainly the most remarkable house for “swearing on the horns.” Guiver, the present landlord, (January 1826) came to the house about Michaelmas 1824, and many called upon him to be sworn in; not having practised he was unqualified to indulge the requisitionists, and very soon finding, that much of the custom of his house depended on the “custom of Highgate,” and imagining that he had lost something by his indifference to the usage, he boldly determined to obtain “indemnity for the past, and security for the future.” Thereupon he procured habiliments, and an assistant, and he is now an office-bearer as regards the aforesaid “manner” of Highgate, and exercises his faculties so as to dignify the custom. Robed in a domino with a wig and mask, and a book wherein is written the oath, he recites it in this costume as he reads it through a pair of spectacles. The staff with “the horns” is held by an old villager who acts as clerk, and at every full stop, calls aloud, “Amen!” This performance furnishes the representation of the present engraving from a sketch by Mr. George Cruikshank. He has waggishly misrepresented one of the figures, which not being the landlord, who is the most important character, no way affects the general fidelity of the scenes sometimes exhibited in the parlour of the Fox and Crown.

* * * * *

It is not uncommon for females to be “sworn at Highgate.” On such occasions the word “daughter” is substituted for “son,” and other suitable alterations are made in the formality. Anciently there was a register kept at the gate-house, wherein persons enrolled their names when sworn there, but the book unaccountably disappeared many years ago.--Query. Is it in Mr. Upcott’s collection of autographs?

There seems to be little doubt, that the usage first obtained at the Gate-house; where, as well as in other public houses, though not in all, at this time, deputies are employed to swear in. An old inhabitant, who formerly kept a licensed house, says, “In _my_ time nobody came to Highgate in any thing of a carriage, without being called upon to be sworn in. There was so much doing in this way at one period, that I was obliged to hire a man as a ‘swearer-in:’ I have sworn in from a hundred to a hundred and twenty in a day. Bodies of tailors used to come up here from town, bringing five or six new shopmates with them to be sworn; and I have repeatedly had parties of ladies and gentlemen in private carriages come up purposely to be made free of Highgate in the same way.”

Officers of the guards and other regiments repeatedly came to the Gate-house and called for “the horns.” Dinner parties were formed there for the purpose of initiating strangers, and as pre-requisite for admission to sundry convivial societies, now no more, the freedom of Highgate was indispensable.

* * * * *

Concerning the origin of this custom, there are two or three stories. One is, that it was devised by a landlord, who had lost his licence, as a means of covering the sale of his liquors; to this there seems no ground of credit.

Another, and a probable account, is, to this effect--That Highgate being the place nearest to London where cattle rested on their way from the north for sale in Smithfield, certain graziers were accustomed to put up at the Gate-house for the night, but as they could not wholly exclude strangers, who like themselves were travelling on their business, they brought an ox to the door, and those who did not choose to kiss its horns, after going through the ceremony described, were not deemed fit members of their society.

* * * * *

It is imagined by some, because it is so stated in a modern book or two as likely, that the horns were adopted to swear this whimsical oath upon, because it was tendered at the parish of _Horns-ey_, wherein Highgate is situated.

The reader may choose either of these origins; he has before him all that can be known upon the subject.

* * * * *

An anecdote related by Mrs. Southo of the Red Lion and Sun, may, or may not, be illustrative of this custom. She is a native of Hoddesdon in Hertfordshire, where her father kept the Griffin, and she says, that when any fresh waggoner came to that house with his team, a drinking horn, holding about a pint, fixed on a stand made of four rams’ horns, was brought out of the house, and elevated above his head, and he was compelled to pay a gallon of beer, and to drink out of the horn. She never heard how the usage originated; it had been observed, and the stand of rams’ horns had been in the house, from time immemorial.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 35·52.

~January 18.~

_St. Priscian._

In the church of England calendar.

OLD TWELFTH DAY.

This is still observed in some parts of England.

_Don Sebastian._

In default of holiday making by the editor, who during the Christmas season has been employed in finishing the indexes, which will be in the readers’ hands in few days to enable them to complete the first volume of this work, he has now and then turned to his collections to relieve the wearisomeness of his occupation, and finding the following anecdote in “The Times” of Dec. 1825, he subjoins from his stores an illustration of the curious fact it relates to. “It may be mentioned,” _The Times_ says, “as a singular species of infatuation, that many Portuguese residing in Brazil as well as Portugal, still believe in the coming of Sebastian, the romantic king, who was killed in Africa about the year 1578, in a pitched battle with the emperor Muley Moluc. Some of these old visionaries will go out, wrapped in their large cloaks, on a windy night, to watch the movements of the heavens, and frequently, if an exhalation is seen flitting in the air, resembling a falling star, they will cry out, “there he comes!” Sales of horses and other things are sometimes effected, payable at the coming of king Sebastian. It was this fact that induced Junot, when asked what he would be able to do with the Portuguese, to answer, what can I do with a people who are still waiting for the coming of the Messiah and king Sebastian?”

This superstitious belief is mentioned in a MS. Journal of a Residence at Lisbon in 1814, written by an individual personally known to the editor, who extracts from the narrative as follows:--

It is the daily practice at Lisbon for the master of the family to cater for the wants of his table himself. According to ancient usage, he must either employ and pay a porter to carry home his purchases at market, or send a servant for them. A certain doctor, well known to be a lover of fish, and an enthusiastic expectant of Don Sebastian, was watched several days in the fish market by some knavish youths, who contrived a trick upon him. One morning, they observed him very intent upon a fine large fish, yet disagreeing with the fishmonger as to its price. One of these knaves managed to inform the man, if he would let the doctor have the fish at his own price he would pay the difference, and the fishmonger soon concluded the bargain with the doctor. As soon as he was gone, one of the party, without the fishmonger’s knowledge, insinuated down the fish’s throat a scroll of parchment curiously packed, and shortly afterwards, the doctor’s servant arrived for his master’s purchase. On opening the fish, in order to its being cooked, the parchment deposit was found, and the credulous man, to his astonishment and delight, read as follows:--

“Worthy and well-beloved Signor: ---- ----, respected by the saints and now revered by men. From our long observation of thine heart’s integrity, and in full knowledge of thy faith and firm belief, thou art selected as the happy instrument of our return; but know, most worthy Signor, the idea of a white horse in clouds of air, is a mere fable invented by weak men. It will be far otherwise, but be thou circumspect and secret, and to thee these things will be explained hereafter. Know, that by the element of water, by which we make this known, we shall return. Not far from Fort St. Juliana is a spot thou knowest well, a smooth declivity towards the sea; it is there we first shall touch the shore of our loved Portugal to-morrow’s night at twelve. Be thou there alone, and softly gliding on the water’s surface a small boat shall appear. Be silent and remain quiet on our appearance, for until we can join our prayers with thine thou must not speak; load not thyself with coin, for soon as dawn appears a troop of goodly horse from Cintra’s Road will rise upon thy view. But be not destitute of wherewith to bear thine expense. All thy future life shall be thy prince’s care.

“SEBASTIAN.”

The trick succeeded; for the next day the doctor left Lisbon as privately as possible, while his trepanners who had watched him quickly followed, two in a boat hired for the purpose, and two on shore, to make a signal. The boat arrived at the appointed hour, and the doctor expected nothing less than the landing of the long expected and well-beloved Sebastian. It reached the shore, and by those who stepped out and their confederates concealed on the beach, the doctor was eased of some doubloons he had with him, received a cool dip in the water, and was left on the beach to bewail his folly. The story soon got wind, and now (in 1814) there are wags who, when they observe the doctor coming, affect to see something in the sky; this hint concerning Don Sebastian’s appearance is usually intimated beyond the reach of the doctor’s cane.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·12.

~January 19.~

_Feast of Lanthorns._

This is a festival with the Chinese on the fifteenth day of the first month of their year. It is so called from the great number of _lanthorns_ hung out of the houses, and in the streets; insomuch that it rather appears a season of madness, than of feasting. On this day are exposed lanthorns of all prices, whereof some are said to cost two thousand crowns. Some of their grandees retrench somewhat every day out of their table, their dress, their equipage, &c. to appear the more magnificent in lanthorns. They are adorned with gilding, sculpture, painting, japanning, &c. and as to their size, it is extravagant; some are from twenty-five to thirty feet diameter; they represent halls and chambers. Two or three such machines together would make handsome houses. In lanthorns of these dimensions the Chinese are able to eat, lodge, receive visits, have balls, and act plays. The great multitude of smaller lanthorns usually consist of six faces or lights, each about four feet high, and one and a half broad, framed in wood finely gilt and adorned; over these are stretched a fine transparent silk, curiously painted with flowers, trees, and sometimes human figures. The colours are extremely bright; and when the torches are lighted, they appear highly beautiful and surprising.

_French Lark Shooting._

To the gentleman whose letter from Abbeville, descriptive of “Wild fowl shooting in France,” is on p. 1575 of vol. I., the editor is indebted for another on “Lark shooting,” which is successfully practised there by a singular device unknown to sportsmen in this country.[31]

------------------ As far-off islanders,
Innocent of trade, unskilled in commerce,
To whom a glass or toy unknown before
Is wonderful, give freely, flocks and fruits
To gain mere baubles; so, these silly birds
Attracted by the glisten of the twirler,
Hover above the passing strange decoy,
Intent to gaze, and fall the gunner’s prey.

*

_Abbeville._

Dear Sir,

If I do not send you your wished for wood cuts I at least keep my promise of letting you hear from me. I told you in my last you should have something about our lark-shooting, and so you shall, and at this time too; though I assure you writing flying as I almost do, is by no means so agreeable to me as shooting flying, which is the finest sport imaginable. When I come home I will tell you all about it, for the present I can only acquaint you with enough to let you into the secret of the enjoyment that I should always find in France, if I had no other attraction to the country. I must “level” at once, for I have no time to spare, and so “here goes,” as the boy says.

Partridge and quail shooting cease in this delightful part of the world about the middle of October, for by that time the partridges are so very wild and wary that there is no getting near them. The reason of this is, that our fields here are all open without either hedge or ditch, and when the corn and hemp are off, the stubble is pulled up so close by the poor people for fuel, that there is no cover for partridges; as to the quails, they are all either “killed off,” or take their departure for a wilder climate; and then there is nothing left for the French gentry to amuse themselves with but lark-shooting. These birds are attracted to any given spot in great numbers by a singular contrivance, called a _miroir_. This is a small machine, made of a piece of mahogany, shaped like a chapeau bras, and highly polished; or else it is made of common wood, inlaid with small bits of looking glass, so as to reflect the suns rays upwards. It is fixed on the top of a thin iron rod, or upright spindle, dropped through an iron loop or ring attached to a piece of wood, to drive into the ground as here represented.

By pulling a string fastened to the spindle, the _miroir_ twirls, and the reflected light unaccountably attracts the larks, who hover over it, and become a mark for the sportsman. In this way I have had capital sport. A friend of mine actually shot six dozen before breakfast. While he sat on the ground he pulled the twirler himself, and his dogs fetched the birds as they dropped. However, I go on in the common way, and employ a boy to work the twirler. Ladies often partake in the amusement on a cold dry morning, not by shooting but by watching the sport. So many as ten or a dozen parties are sometimes out together, firing at a distance of about five hundred yards apart, and in this way the larks are constantly kept on the wing. The most favourable mornings are when there is a gentle light frost, with little or no wind, and a clear sky--for when there are clouds the larks will not approach. One would think the birds themselves enjoyed their destruction, for the fascination of the twirler is so strong, as to rob them of the usual “fruits of experience.” After being fired at several times they return to the twirler, and form again into groupes above it. Some of them even fly down and settle on the ground, within a yard or two of the astonishing instrument, looking at it “this way and that way, and all ways together,” as if nothing had happened.

Larks in France fetch from three to four sous a piece. In winter, however, when they are plentiful, they are seldom eaten, because here they are always dressed with the trail, like snipes and woodcocks; but for this mode of cooking they are not fitted when the snow is on the ground, because they are then driven to eat turnip-tops, and other watery herbs, which communicate an unpleasant flavour to the trail. Were you here at the season, to eat larks in their perfection, and dressed as we dress them, I think your praise of the cooking would give me the laugh against you, if you ever afterwards ventured to declaim against the use of the gun, which, next to my pencil, is my greatest hobby. I send you a sketch of the sport, with the boy at the twirler--do what you like with it.

I rather think I did not tell you in my last, that the decoy ducks, used in wild-fowl shooting, are made of wood--any stump near at hand is hacked out any how for the body, while a small limb of any tree is thrust into the stump for the duck’s neck, and one of the side branches left short makes his head. These ducks answer the purpose with their living prototypes, who fly by moonlight, and have not a perfect view, and don’t stay for distinctions, like philosophers.

It will not be long before I’m off for England, and then, &c.

I am, &c.

J. H. H.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·02.

[31] To his former letter J. J. H. are printed as initials by mistake,
instead of J. H. H.

~January 20.~

_Fabian._

In the church of England calendar.[32]

DEDICATION.

The dedication of each day in the year, by the Romish church, in honour of a saint, which converts every day into a festival, is a fact pretty well known to the readers of the _Every-Day Book_. It is also generally known, that in certain almanacs every part of the human body is distributed among the days throughout the year, as subjects of diurnal influence; but it is not perhaps so well known, that every joint of each finger on each hand was appropriated to some saint. The proof of this is supplied by two very old prints, from engravings on wood, at the British Museum. They are among a collection of ancient wood cuts pasted in a folio volume. It would occupy too much room to give copies of these representations in fac-simile: the curiously inclined, who have access to the Museum print-room, may consult the originals; general readers may be satisfied with the following description:--

_Right Hand._

The top joint of the _thumb_ is dedicated to GOD; the second joint to the Virgin; the top joint of the _fore finger_ to Barnabas, the second joint to John, the third to Paul; the top joint of the _second finger_ to Simeon Cleophas, the second joint to Tathideo, the third to Joseph; the top joint of the _third finger_ to Zaccheus, the second to Stephen, the third to Luke; the top joint of the _little finger_ to Leatus, the second to Mark, the third joint to Nicodemus.

_Left Hand._

The top joint of the _thumb_ is dedicated to Christ, the second joint to the Virgin; the top joint of the _fore finger_ to St. James, the second to St. John the evangelist, the third to St. Peter; the first joint of the _second finger_ to St. Simon, the second joint to St. Matthew, the third to St. James the great; the top joint of the _third finger_ to St. Jude, the second joint to St. Bartholomew, the third to St. Andrew; the top joint of the _little finger_ to St. Matthias, the second joint to St. Thomas, the third joint to St. Philip.

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 36·92.

[32] See vol. i. p. 135.

~January 21.~

_St. Agnes._

In the church of England calendar.[33]

_How to sleep well in cold weather._

Obtain a free circulation of the blood by walking, or other wholesome exercise, so as to procure a gentle glow over the entire surface of the body. Hasten to your chamber, undress yourself quickly, and jump into bed without suffering its temperature to be heightened by the machine called a warming-pan. Your bed will be warmed by your own heat, and if you have not eaten a meat supper, or drank spirits, you will sleep well and warm all night. Calico sheets are adapted to this season--blankets perhaps are better; but as they absorb perspiration they should be washed before they come into use with sheets in summer time.

_Extraordinary sleeper._

Samuel Clinton, of Timbury, near Bath, a labouring man, about twenty-five years of age, had frequently slept, without intermission, for several weeks. On the 13th of May, 1694, he fell into a profound sleep, out of which he could by no means be roused by those about him; but after a month’s time, he rose of himself, put on his clothes, and went about his business as usual. From that time to the 9th of April following he remained free from any extraordinary drowsiness, but then fell into another protracted sleep. His friends were prevailed on to try what remedies might effect, and accordingly he was bled, blistered, cupped, and scarified, but to no purpose. In this manner he lay till the 7th of August, when he awaked, and went into the fields, where he found people busy in getting in the harvest, and remembered that when he fell asleep they were sowing their oats and barley. From that time he remained well till the 17th of August, 1697, when he complained of a shivering, and, after some disorder of the stomach, the same day fell fast asleep again. Dr. Oliver went to see him; he was then in an agreeable warmth, but without the least sign of his being sensible; the doctor then held a phial of sal-ammoniac under his nose, and injected about half an ounce up one of his nostrils, but it only made his nose run and his eyelids shiver a little. The doctor then filled his nostrils with powder of white hellebore, but the man did not discover the least uneasiness. About ten days after, the apothecary took fourteen ounces of blood from his arm without his making the least motion during the operation. The latter end of September Dr. Oliver again visited him, and a gentleman present ran a large pin into his arm to the bone, but he gave not the least sign of feeling. In this manner he lay till the 19th of November, when his mother hearing him make a noise ran immediately to him, and asked him how he did, and what he would have to eat? to which he replied, “very well, I thank you; I’ll take some bread and cheese.” His mother, overjoyed, ran to acquaint his brother that he was awake, but on their going up stairs they found him as fast asleep as ever. Thus he continued till the end of January, at which time he awoke perfectly well and very little altered in his flesh, and went about his business as usual.[34]

NATURALISTS’ CALENDAR.

Mean Temperature 37·35.

[33] See vol. i. p. 141.

[34] Phil. Trans.

~January 22.~

_St. Vincent._

In the church of England calendar.[35]

The Hyde-park river--which no river is,
The Serpentine--which is not serpentine
When frozen, every skater claims as his,
In right of common, there to intertwine
With countless crowds, and glide upon the ice.
Lining the banks, the timid and unwilling
Stand and look on, while some the fair entice
By telling, “yonder skaters are quadrilling”--
And here the skateless hire the “_best_ skates” for a shilling.

*

A hard frost is a season of holidays in London. The scenes exhibited are too agreeable and ludicrous for the pen to describe. They are for the pencil; and Mr. Cruikshank’s is the only one equal to the series. In a work like this there is no room for their display, yet he has hastily essayed the preceding sketch in a short hour. It is proper to say, that however gratifying the representation may be to the reader, the friendship that extorted it is not ignorant that scarcely a tithe of either the time or space requisite has been afforded Mr. Cruikshank for the subject. It conveys some notion however of part of the doings on “the Serpentine in Hyde-park” when the thermometer is below “freezing,” and every drop of water depending from trees and eaves becomes solid, and hangs

“like a diamond in the sky.”

The ice-bound Serpentine is the resort of every one who knows how or is learning to skate, and on a Sunday its broad surface is covered with gazers who have “as much right” to be on it as skaters, and therefore “stand” upon the right to interrupt the recreation they came to see. This is especially the case on a Sunday. The entire of this canal from the wall of Kensington-gardens to the extremity at the Knightsbridge end was, on Sunday the 15th of January, 1826, literally a mob of skaters and gazers. At one period it was calculated that there were not less than a hundred thousand persons upon this single sheet of ice.

* * * * *

The coachmen on the several roads, particularly on the western and northern roads, never remembered a severer frost than they experienced on the Sunday night just mentioned. Those who recollected that of 1814, when the Thames was frozen over, and booths raised on the ice, declared that they did not feel it so severely, as it did not come on so suddenly. The houses and trees in the country had a singular appearance on the Monday, owing to the combination of frost and fog; the trees, and fronts of houses, and even the glass was covered with thick white frost, and was no more transparent than ground-glass.

Butchers, in the suburbs, where the frost was felt more keenly than in the metropolis, were obliged to keep their shops shut in order to keep out the frost; many of them carried the meat into their parlours, and kept it folded up in cloths round the fires, and unfolded it as their customers came in and required it. The market gardeners also felt the severity of the weather--it stopped their labours, and some of the men, attended by their wives, went about in parties, and with frosted greens fixed at the tops of rakes and hoes, uttered the ancient cry of “Pray remember the gardeners! Remember the poor frozen out gardeners!”[36]

* * * * *

_The Apparition._

’Twas silence all, the rising moon
With clouds had veil’d her light,
The clock struck twelve, when, lo! I saw
A very chilling sight.

Pale as a snow-ball was its face,
Like icicles its hair;
For mantle, it appeared to me
A sheet of ice to wear.

Tho’ seldom given to alarm,
I’ faith, I’ll not dissemble,
My teeth all chatter’d in my head,
And every joint did tremble.

At last, I cried, “Pray who are you,
And whither do you go?”
Methought the phantom thus replied,
“My name is Sally Snow;

“My father is the Northern Wind,
My mother’s name was Water;
Old parson Winter married them,
And I’m their hopeful Daughter.

“I have a lover--Jackey Frost,
My dad the match condemns;
I’ve run from home to-night to meet
My love upon the Thames.”

I stopp’d Miss Snow in her discourse,
This answer just to cast in,
“I hope, if John and you unite,
Your union wo’n’t be lasting!

“Besides, if you should marry him,
But ill you’d do, that I know;
For surely Jackey Frost must be
A very slippery fellow.”

She sat her down before the fire,
My wonder now increases;
For she I took to be a maid,
Then tumbled into pieces!

For air, thin air, did Hamlet’s ghost,
His foremost cock-crow barter;
But what I saw, and now describe,
Resolv’d itself to water.

GREAT FROST, 1814.

The severest and most remarkable frost in England of late years, commenced in December, 1813, and generally called “the Great Frost in 1814,” was preceded by a great fog, which came on with the evening of the 27th of December, 1813. It is described as a darkness that might be felt. Cabinet business of great importance had been transacted, and lord Castlereagh left London about two hours before, to embark for the continent. The prince regent, (since George IV.) proceeding towards Hatfield on a visit to the marquis of Salisbury, was obliged to return to Carlton-house, after being absent several hours, during which period the carriages had not reached beyond Kentish-town, and one of the outriders fell into a ditch. Mr. Croker, secretary of the admiralty, on a visit northward, wandered likewise several hours in making a progress not more than three or four miles, and was likewise compelled to put back. It was “darkness that might be felt.”

On most of the roads, excepting the high North-road, travelling was performed with the utmost danger, and the mails were greatly impeded.

On the 28th, the Maidenhead coach coming to London, missed the road near Hartford bridge and was overturned. Lord Hawarden was among the passengers, and severely injured.

On the 29th, the Birmingham mail was nearly seven hours in going from the Post-office to a mile or two below Uxbridge, a distance of twenty miles only: and on this, and other evenings, the short stages in the neighbourhood of London had two persons with links, running by the horses’ heads. Pedestrians carried links or lanterns, and many, who were not so provided, lost themselves in the most frequented, and at other times well-known streets. Hackney-coachmen mistook the pathway for the road, and the greatest confusion prevailed.

On the 31st, the increased fog in the metropolis was, at night, truly alarming. It required great attention and thorough knowledge of the public streets to proceed any distance, and persons who had material business to transact were unavoidably compelled to carry torches. The lamps appeared through the haze like small candles. Careful hackney-coachmen got off the box and led their horses, while others drove only at a walking pace. There were frequent meetings of carriages, and great mischief ensued. Foot passengers, alarmed at the idea of being run down, exclaimed, “Who is coming?”--“Mind!”--“Take care!” &c. Females who ventured abroad were in great peril; and innumerable people lost their way.

After the fogs, there were heavier falls of snow than had been within the memory of man. With only short intervals, it snowed incessantly for forty-eight hours, and this after the ground was covered with ice, the result of nearly four weeks continued frost. During this long period, the wind blew almost continually from the north and north-east, and the cold was intense. A short thaw of about one day, rendered the streets almost impassable. The mass of snow and water was so thick, that hackney-coaches with an additional horse, and other vehicles, could scarcely plough their way through. Trade and calling of all kinds in the streets were nearly stopped, and considerably increased the distresses of the industrious. Few carriages, even stages, could travel the roads, and those in the neighbourhood of London seemed deserted. From many buildings, icicles, a yard and a half long, were seen suspended. The water-pipes to the houses were all frozen, and it became necessary to have plugs in the streets for the supply of all ranks of inhabitants. The Thames, from London Bridge to Blackfriars, was completely blocked up at ebb-tide for nearly a fortnight. Every pond and river near the metropolis was completely frozen.

Skating was pursued with great avidity on the Canal in St. James’s, and the Serpentine in Hyde-park. On Monday the 10th of _January_, the Canal and the Basin in the Green-park were conspicuous for the number of skaters, who administered to the pleasure of the throngs on the banks; some by the agility and grace of their evolutions, and others by tumbles and whimsical accidents from clumsy attempts. A motley collection of all orders seemed eager candidates for applause. The sweep, the dustman, the drummer, the beau, gave evidence of his own good opinion, and claimed that of the _belles_ who viewed his movements. In Hyde-park, a more distinguished order of visitors crowded the banks of the Serpentine. Ladies, in robes of the richest fur, bid defiance to the wintry winds, and ventured on the frail surface. Skaters, in great numbers, of first-rate notoriety, executed some of the most difficult movements of the art, to universal admiration. A lady and two officers, who performed a reel with a precision scarcely conceivable, received applause so boisterous as to terrify the fair cause of the general expression, and occasion her to forego the pleasure she received from the amusement. Two accidents occurred: a skating lady dislocated the _patella_ or kneepan, and five gentlemen and a lady were submerged in the frosty fluid, but with no other injury than from the natural effect of so cold an embrace.

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On the 20th, in consequence of the great accumulation of snow in London, it became necessary to relieve the roofs of the houses by throwing off the load collected upon them. By this means the carriage-ways in the middle of the streets were rendered scarcely passable; and the streams constantly flowing from the open plugs, added to the general mass of ice.

Many coach proprietors, on the northern and western roads, discontinued to run their coaches. In places where the roads were low, the snow had drifted above carriage height. On Finchley-common, by the fall of one night, it lay to a depth of sixteen feet, and the road was impassable even to oxen. On Bagshot-heath and about Esher and Cobham the road was completely choked up. Except the Kent and Essex roads, no others were passable beyond a few miles from London. The coaches of the western road remained stationary at different parts. The Windsor coach was worked through the snow at Colnbrook, which was there sixteen feet deep, by employing about fifty labourers. At Maidenhead-lane, the snow was still deeper; and between Twyford and Reading it assumed a mountainous appearance. Accounts say that, on parts of Bagshot-heath, description would fail to convey an adequate idea of its situation. The Newcastle coach went off the road into a pit upwards of eight feet deep, but without mischief to either man or horse. The middle North-road was impassable at Highgate-hill.

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On the 22d of January, and for some time afterwards, the ice on the Serpentine in Hyde-park bore a singular appearance, from mountains of snow which sweepers had collected together in different situations. The spaces allotted for the skaters were in circles, squares, and oblongs. Next to the carriage ride on the north side, many astonishing evolutions were performed by the skaters. Skipping on skates, and the Turk-cap backwards, were among the most conspicuous. The ice, injured by a partial thaw in some places, was much _cut up_, yet elegantly dressed females dashed between the hillocks of snow, with great bravery.

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At this time the appearance of the river Thames was most remarkable. Vast pieces of floating ice, laden generally with heaps of snow, were slowly carried up and down by the tide, or collected where the projecting banks or the bridges resisted the flow. These accumulations sometimes formed a chain of glaciers, which, uniting at one moment, were at another cracking and bounding against each other in a singular and awful manner with loud noise. Sometimes these ice islands rose one over another, covered with angry foam, and were violently impelled by the winds and waves through the arches of the bridges, with tremendous crashes. Near the bridges, the floating pieces collected about mid-water, or while the tide was less forcible, and ranged themselves on each other; the stream formed them into order by its force as it passed, till the narrowness of the channel increased the power of the flood, when a sudden disruption taking place, the masses burst away, and floated off. The river was frozen over for the space of a week, and a complete _Frost Fair_ held upon it, as will be mentioned presently.

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Since the establishment of mail-coaches correspondence had not been so interrupted as on this occasion. Internal communication was completely at a stand till the roads could be in some degree cleared. The entire face of the country was one uniform sheet of snow; no trace of road was discoverable.

The Post-office exerted itself to have the roads cleared for the conveyance of the mails, and the government interfered by issuing instructions to every parish in the kingdom to employ labourers in reopening the ways.

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In the midland counties, particularly on the borders of Northamptonshire and Warwickshire, the snow lay to a height altogether unprecedented. At Dunchurch, a small village on the road to Birmingham, through Coventry, and for a few miles round that place, in all directions, the drifts exceeded twenty-four feet, and no tracks of carriages or travellers could be discovered, except on the great road, for many days.

The Cambridge mail coach coming to London, sunk into a hollow of the road, and remained with the snow drifting over it, from one o’clock to nine in the morning, when it was dragged out by fourteen waggon horses. The passengers, who were in the coach the whole of the time, were nearly frozen to death.

* * * * *

On the 26th, the wind veered to the south-west, and a thaw was speedily discernible. The great fall of the Thames at London-bridge for some days presented a scene both novel and interesting. At the ebbing of the tide, huge fragments of ice were precipitated down the stream with great violence, accompanied by a noise, equal to the report of a small piece of artillery. On the return of the tide, they were forced back; but the obstacles opposed to their passage through the arches were so great, as to threaten a total stoppage to the navigation of the river. The thaw continued, and these appearances gradually ceased.

On the 27th, 28th, and 29th, the roads and streets were nearly impassable from floods, and the accumulation of snow. On Sunday the 30th a sharp frost set in, and continued till the following Saturday evening, the 5th of February.

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The _Falmouth_ mail coach started from thence for Exeter, after having proceeded a few miles was overturned, without material injury to the passengers. With the assistance of an additional pair of horses it reached the first stage; after which all endeavours to proceed were found perfectly useless, and the letters were sent to Bodmin by the guard on horseback. The Falmouth and Plymouth coach and its passengers were obliged to remain at St. Austell.

At _Plymouth_, the snow was nearly four feet high in several of the streets.

At _Liverpool_, on the 17th of January, Fahrenheit’s thermometer, in the Athenæum, stood at fifteen degrees; seven below the freezing point. From the ice accumulated in the Mersey, boats could not pass over. Almost all labour without doors was at a stand.

At _Gloucester_, Jan. 17. The severity of the frost had not been exceeded by any that preceded it. The Severn was frozen over, and people went to Tewkesbury market across the ice on horseback. The cold was intense. The thermometer, exposed in a north-eastern aspect, stood at thirteen degrees, nine below the freezing point. On the eastern coast, it stood as low as nine and ten; a degree of cold unusual in this county.

_Bristol_, Jan. 18. The frost continued in this city with the like severity. The Floating Harbour from Cumberland basin to the Feeder, at the bottom of Avon-street, was one continued sheet of ice; and for the first time in the memory of man, the skater made his appearance under Bristol-bridge. The Severn was frozen over at various points, so as to bear the weight of passengers.

At _Whitehaven_, Jan. 18, the frost had increased in severity. All the ponds and streams were frozen; and there was scarcely a pump in the town that gave out water. The market was very thinly attended; it having been found in many parts impossible to travel until the snow was cut.

At _Dublin_, Jan. 14, the snow lay in a quantity unparalleled for half a century. In the course of one day and night, it descended so inconceivably thick and rapid, as to block up all the roads, and preclude the possibility of the mail coaches being able to proceed, and it was even found impracticable to send the mails on horseback. Thus all intercourse with the interior was cut off, and it was not until the 18th, when an intense frost suddenly commenced, that the communication was opened, and several mail bags arrived from the country on horseback.

The snow in many of the narrow streets of Dublin, after the footways had been in some measure cleared, was more than six feet. It was nearly impossible for any carriage to force a passage, and few ventured on the hazardous attempt. Accidents, both distressing and fatal, occurred. In several streets and lanes the poorer inhabitants were literally blocked up in their houses, and in the attempt to go abroad, experienced every kind of misery. The number of deaths from cold and distress were greater than at any other period, unless at the time of the plague. There were eighty funerals on the Sunday before this date. The coffin-makers in Cook-street could with difficulty complete their numerous orders: and not a few poor people lay dead in their wretched rooms for several days, from the impossibility of procuring assistance to convey them to the Hospital-fields, and the great difficulty and danger of attempting to open the ground, which was very uneven, and where the snow remained in some parts, twenty feet deep.

From _Canterbury_, January 25, the communication with the metropolis was not open from Monday until Saturday preceding this date, when the snow was cut through by the military at Chathamhill, and near Gravesend; and the stages proceeded with their passengers. The mail of the Thursday night arrived at Canterbury late on Friday evening, the bags having been conveyed part of the distance upon men’s shoulders. The bags of Friday and Saturday night arrived together on Sunday morning about ten o’clock.

_Dalrymple, North Britain_, January 29.--Wednesday, the 26th, was an epoch ever to be remembered by the inhabitants of this village. The thaw of that and the preceding day had opened the Doon, formerly “bound like a rock,” to a considerable distance above this; and the melting of the snow on the adjacent hills swelled the river beyond its usual height, and burst up vast fragments of ice and congealed snow. It forced them forward with irresistible impetuosity, bending trees like willows, carrying down Skelton-bridge, and sweeping all before it. The overwhelming torrent in its awful progress accumulated a prodigious mass of the frozen element, which, as if in wanton frolic, it heaved out into the fields on both sides, covering acres of ground many feet deep. Alternately loading and discharging in this manner, it came to a door or two in the village, as if to apprize the inhabitants of its powers. The river having deserted its wonted channel, endeavoured to make its grand entry by several courses successively in Saint Valley, and finding no one of them sufficient for its reception, took them altogether, and overrunning the whole holm at once, appeared here in terrific grandeur, between seven and eight o’clock in the evening, when the moon retreated behind a cloud, and the gloom of night added to the horrors of the tremendous scene. Like a sea, it overflowed all the gardens on the east side, from the cross to the bridge, and invaded the houses behind by the doors and windows, extinguishing the fires in a moment, lifting and tumbling the furniture, and gushing out at the front doors with incredible rapidity. Its principal inroad was by the end of a bridge. Here, while the houses stood as a bank on either side, it came crashing and roaring up the street in full career, casting forth, within a few yards of the cross, floats of ice like millstones. The houses on the west side were in the same situation with those on the east. At one place the water was running on the house-eaves, at another it was near the door-head, and midway up the street, it stood three feet and a half above the door. Had it advanced five minutes longer in this direction, the whole village must have been inundated.

* * * * *

During this frost a great number of the fish called golden maids, were picked up on Brighton beach and sold at good prices. They floated ashore quite blind, having been reduced to that state by the snow.

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Annexed are a few of the casualties consequent on this great frost. A woman was found frozen to death on the Highgate-road. She proved to have been a charwoman, returning from Highgate, where she had been at work, to Pancras.

A poor woman named Wood, while crossing Blackheath from Leigh to the village of Charlton, accompanied by her two children, was benighted, and missed her way. After various efforts to extricate herself, she fell into a hole, and was nearly buried in the snow. From this, however, she contrived to escape, and again proceeded; but at length, being completely exhausted, and her children benumbed with cold, she sat down on the trunk of a tree, where, wrapping her children in her cloak, she endeavoured by loud cries to attract the attention of some passengers. Her shrieks at length were heard by a waggoner, who humanely waded through the snow to her assistance, and taking her children, who seemed in a torpid state, in his arms, he conducted her to a public-house; one of the infants was frozen to death, and the other was recovered with extreme difficulty.

As some workmen were clearing away the snow, which was twelve feet deep, at Kipton, on the border of Northamptonshire, the body of a child about three years old was discovered, and immediately afterwards the body of its mother. She was the wife of a soldier of the 16th regiment, returning home with her infant after accompanying her husband to the place of embarkation. It was supposed they had been a week in the snow.

There was found lying in the road leading from Longford to Upham, frozen to death, a Mr. Apthorne, a grazier, at Coltsworth. He had left Hounslow at dusk on Monday evening, after having drank rather freely, and proposed to go that night to Marlow.

On his return from Wakefield market, Mr. Husband, of Holroyd Hall, was frozen to death, within little more than a hundred yards of the house of his nephew, with whom he resided.

Mr. Chapman, organist, and master of the central school at Andover, Hants, was frozen to death near Wallop, in that county.

A young man named Monk, while driving a stage-coach near Ryegate, was thrown off the box on a lump of frozen snow, and killed on the spot.

* * * * *

The thermometer during this intense frost was as low as 7° and 8° of Fahrenheit, in the neighbourhood of London. There are instances of its having been lower in many seasons, but so long a continuance of very cold weather was never experienced in this climate within the memory of man.

~Frost Fair--1814.~

On Sunday, the 30th of January, the immense masses of ice that floated from the upper parts of the river, in consequence of the thaw on the two preceding days, blocked up the Thames between Blackfriars and London Bridges; and afforded every probability of its being frozen over in a day or two. Some adventurous persons even now walked on different parts, and on the next day, Monday the 31st, the expectation was realized. During the whole of the afternoon, hundreds of people were assembled on Blackfriars and London Bridges, to see people cross and recross the Thames on the ice. At one time seventy persons were counted walking from Queenhithe to the opposite shore. The frost of Sunday night so united the vast mass as to render it immovable by the tide.