An Exact Narrative and Description of the Wonder full and Stupendious Fireworks in Honour of Their Majesty's Coronations, and for the High Entertainment of Their Majesties, the Nobility, and City of London; made on the Thames, and performed to the Admiration and Amazement of the Spectators, on April the 24, 1685.  
NEver was any thing with greater Expectation attended, and with more wonder and Applause performed, then were those Miraculous and highest strains of Art, the Coronation-Fire-works: It was pre-supposed indeed and concluded by the most, that nothing mean, indifferent, and easy would be exhibited on so Glorious an occasion, and before so Royal an Assembly. But it was done beyond all Thought, and it was scarce possible for the Fancy of any man that had not before seen of the kind, to form an Idea of a thing at once so Dreadful and Delightful, or to believe that the Art of man could attain to so extraordinary a height and pitch of Perfection as was expressed in them; the wearisomeness that the Fatigue of those Glorious Prossessions and stately Ceremonies of the Coronations had bred in their Majesties, caused them to be deferred till the next Evening, which were designed with (as it were) the exactest Act of Magnificence to have closed the Grandeur of that Great day. Never seemed Daylight so tedious, or Night so slow, as that for there were them that from Two took places, and sat in expectation of what was not to be Acted till almost Ten. But between five and six London seemed to have dis-embogued and emptied its Inhabitants into the Boats and on the Shores of Thames, the prospect of Frost Fair reviving in those endless multitudes that crowded and covered it. The Tide was out, which happened well for the Rabble, of whom many else would have been drowned by Accidental slips and press of the People, which now were only Dirtyed: Squibs, Roskets, Serpents, and what else of Fireworks the Boys and Rabble could reach to, were the Divertisement and Dread of the People, till the long wished hour arrived. At length between Nine and Ten their Majesties, with a Numerous Train of Nobility, came into the Galleries of Whitehall, just against which, about the middle of Thames, lay the Principalest part of the Fireworks, and strait in a line beyond, near the further Shoar, lay the other smallest part of them; the Figure and manner of them as they stood before they were Fired, was thus, two large and long Lighters were joined together, and made steady and firm with Planks and Anchors upon them, at about ten yard's distance from each other, on them were erected two Pyramidical Pillars covered on the sides next Whitehall with bright Latin ' Plates, filled all and stuffed with Fireworks; between these two Pyramids, near their tops, was placed a Figure of the Sun, of bright and well polished Brass, next below which hung a great Cross, and beneath that a Crown, all stuffed with Fireworks. A little wide of which, and something before the Pyramids, were placed the Statues of the two Giants of Guildhall, in lively Colours and Proportions facing Whitehall, the backs of which were all filled with Firey-Materials, as well as the Hallows and vacant spaces of the Lighters. This was the manner and Figure of the Principalest part of the Fireworks, which lay in the middle of Thames before they were Fired. The other smaller part of them near the further Shoar, was only one Lighter, in which stood five Beacons as it were; these were scarce known or regarded before they were Fired. No sooner was their Majesties come into the Galleries of Whitehall, but loud Acclamations of Joy proclaimed their Arrival, which Rolling and Re-Ecchoing from both Shores, almost from London-Bridge to Lambeth, helped to give an estimate of that wonderful Multitude and Confluence of People to the Ear, which Night and Darkness had refused to the Eye. Scarce were the redoubled Shouts of Joy ended, and a general Silence through the Earnestness of Expectation and Intentiveness of what was presently to succeed made; but from the prinpalest part of the Fireworks in the midst of the Thames, with a Horrid Impetuosity and Noise, above being able to be paralleled by the beating of a Prodigious Wind on a Thick Grove of Trees, or by Cataracts and Falls of mighty Waters: 〈◊〉 stupendious Torrent of Fire, consisting of many hundred Globulous forms of Fie●● matter, to the wonderful Astonishment and Dread of the Spectators, broke Perpendicularly upward, and risen to so astonishing a height, that by reason of the convexity of the Horizon, like a Summer's Sun growing to Noon, though they risen perpendicularly upward, they seemed to over-hang and threaten all. Lord have Mercy upon us, was then the cry of all that had not seen of the kind; even the stoutest men knew not what to think of so dreadful a Deluge of Fire; but their Surprise was increased when with the noise of Voleys of Muskets Shot those new Meteors broke into a shower of ten thosands of Stars, and with a Brightness that returned the Day, seemed to be falling on all their Heads; but by an exact proportion and most Critical and Judicious weighing of the Strength and Duration of the Matter by those Master Artists that made them, when to the highest pitch they had raised the General fear they were extinct. It was really a wonderful effort of Art, and seemed to equal those Natural Prodigies of Aetna and Vesuvius, with the Happy additional Cheapness of bating of their ruins and desolation. Art it seems so regulating and wisely husbanding the Materials, as to yield a better Pennyworth of Wonder in affording it without such dear Devastations as those of Nature are usually accompanied with. This first Scene of Wonder was followed by divers Issues and Salleys of the same and different matter; and from the first break of the Deluge, till the end of the Sport, which lasted near an hour, the two Giants, the Crown, the Cross and the Sun, grew all in a light Flame in the Figures described, and burnt without abatement of matter, which was no mean masterpiece of Art, till the whole Scene was finished. From the other part of the Fireworks also, where stood five Beacons, burning with the same continuance of Flame and Matter; were shot out of Granades mighty Balls of Fire, which mounting up into the Air a Prodigious height, with the noise of a great Gun, breaking into a thousand smaller Balls of Fire, which flying cross one another, and breaking again with the Reports as it were of many Muskets, filled all the Air with noise and flame. The Granades threw up also Balls of Fire of another kind, which breaking with the noise of a Cannon, at first divided itself into so amazingly bright Bodies of Fire that they gave a Light for a Minute's space over the Thames, and even over all London and parts adjoining, as bright as the Noon-days Sun doth, these sorts were reiterated several times, to the wonder and content, but not Satiety of the Beholders, the Rabble being not to be satisfied with so rare a sight. When as the last and concluding piece of Art from the principal parts of the Fireworks into the Thames, between them and Whitehall slope ways gave whole Broadsides of Fireworks of so particularly strange a Nature, as contrary to the nature of Fire, without extinction or abatement of Flame, burnt in the Water they fell into, leaped up and down in it, and by intermingling their Flames with the Water, and frequently crossing themselves by the Hissing, Convulsions and flying of the Water, hating its enemy's presence, and to be outbraved by what it used to conquor; it yielded one of the strangest and pleasantest Antic Scenes that man's Heart could cover, or his Eyes enjoy. There was this remarkable property in the Fireworks, that were the principal part, and lay in the midst of the Thames; that where as the other were shot out of Granades, these rose to so stupendious a height, and performed all by their own innate Virtue and Strength, which argued an exactness of Art in their composition. The Master Artists that made them were two High-German Operators, to whom His Majesty allows three Hundred Pounds per Annum, Pension to encourage their Art: To whom also the Evening was kind, in being v●●● Calm, and seemed to reward their Art with a seasonable opportunity of performance; which was done indeed with such Excellence, that they risen to so Prodigious a pitch as to be seen, and broke with such loud noise as to be heard, and shined with so bright a Luster as to give Day in and through all the Streets of London.  Written by R. Lowman.  

Printed by N. Thompton at the Entrance into the Old-Spring-Garden near Charing-Cross. 1685