It is a tale so picturesque, one cannot help but hope it’s true. Most likely, it is a story spun not from whole cloth, but from the  more comforting fabric of a  whimsical imagination.

     Winters in London, for at least a five-century span ending in the early 19^th century, tended to be more severe than they are now. While a variety of possible  causes of these milder temperatures are being hotly debated, this much is certain: in the days of old London Bridge (torn down in 1831), the Thames River froze over on a number of  occasions, and Frost Fairs were held on the ice. London would briefly have a new, if slippery, thoroughfare and marketplace. 

      A legend, used to great effect by Edward Rutherfurd in his novel London, holds that William Shakespeare’s acting company, along with a small band of helpers and roughnecks, carted the various parts of their aptly- named,  timber-framed Theatre away from its original location in Shoreditch and stealthily made their way  across the ice of the frozen Thames to its new location in Southwark, where it would later become  famous as the Globe.

     The relocation of the Theatre  became necessary after a dispute with the Shoreditch landholder at the expiration of the original lease. Historians agree that the Theatre was moved as a result of the dispute; and the novelist Rutherfurd has Shakespeare’s intrepid band crossing the ice as a way to avoid using London Bridge, where an excessively vigilant city alderman  had laid a trap in vain to prevent the move.

      The caper doesn’t stand up to historical scrutiny, wishful thinking aside. There is no historical indication that the Thames was frozen over during the time in which the Theatre was believed to have been moved in 1598, although the move was indeed accomplished during the winter. An oddly persistent feature of the story is that the dismantling of the structure in Shoreditch was completed during the course of one night, which hardly seems possible, given the Theatre’s size. Facts are nevertheless rarely allowed to stand in the way of good drama.

     But it is true that such a timber-laden crossing, in the coldest of winters, could have been accomplished. The nineteen arches of London Bridge, with their piers,  had the effect of slowing down the rate at which the water of the Thames would have ordinarily flowed, leading in winter to the formation of ice. Embankments were not as prevalent then, either, so there were more shallow areas that froze over more quickly.

    An ice-bound river was certainly not to the liking of the London wherrymen who made their living with their boats, carrying  passengers back and forth across the Thames. No doubt the seagoing men also regarded it all as a major hindrance to their work, which must have ground to an almost complete halt during the worst of these freezes.

    By most accounts, Londoners were delighted at this wintertime diversion. During the winter of 1564-65, less than a year after the birth of Shakespeare, Raphael Holinshed observed the scene on the hard-frozen Thames: “People went over and amongst the Thames on the ise, from London Bridge to Westminster......in greater numbers than in anie street of the Citie of London.”  Queen Elizabeth I is said to have been unable to  resist the temptation to try out the ice for herself.  Given her adventurous spirit, it is difficult to imagine her doing otherwise.

    It was apparently not until several years into the reign of Elizabeth’s successor James I that the first Frost Fair was held on the ice. The winter of 1608 was recorded as exceedingly cold, and people took to the frozen Thames to set up stalls, tents, and booths in much the same manner as we would prepare for a festival today.

     One Edmund Howe wrote that there “were many that set up boothes and standings upon the ice, as fruit-sellers, victuallers, that sold beere and wine, shoemakers and a barber’s tent.”

     Oddly enough, at a Frost Fair in 1683-84, small printing presses were set up on the ice, due to the  huge demand for printed souvenirs that stated  that the  item was bought on the ice of the Thames. Then, as now,  an impulse to say “Look! This Proves I Was There!”  could  part a fool from his money.   

     Given the festive mood engendered by so unusual a setting, frost fair-goers often spent money like drunken sailors. “Hawkers sold a variety of foods including spiced buns, hot pudding pies, spiced apples, gingerbread, nuts and fruit, ” according to a  Bankside observer. Culinary stunts were also performed on London’s ice, like the roasting of an entire ox. Engaging in a bit of excess was evidently part of the fun.   Swings for children were set up on the ice, joining such simple  pursuits as sledding, sliding, and slipping away from the land-bound workplace to join in the amusements.

      For  refreshment, tavern booths appeared on the ice.  Whether tavern keepers brought along their famously picturesque tavern signs is less certain. What is known is that mulled cider, wine, ale, whiskey, brandy as well as tea, coffee, and hot chocolate all were sold on the ice of the Thames.

     It is hardly surprising that in an age so fond of verse, some rhymes would be cobbled together to honor the frost fairs. “Behold the wonder of this present age / A frozen river now becomes a stage / Question not what I now do close to you / The Thames is now both fair and market too” was whimsically penned in the late 17^th century,  along with the observation that “folks do tipple without fear to sink / More liquor than the fish beneath do drink.”