The Compleat Angler
by Izaak Walton · English · Gutenberg #683 · 366,017 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Compleat Angler
Author: Izaak Walton
Release date: October 1, 1996 [eBook #683]
Most recently updated: October 9, 2017
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/683
Credits: Produced by Tokuya Matsumoto
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPLEAT ANGLER ***
Produced by Tokuya Matsumoto <toqyam@os.rim.or.jp>
IZAAK WALTON
THE COMPLEAT ANGLER
To the Right worshipful
John Offley
of Madeley Manor, in the County of Stafford
Esquire, My most honoured Friend
Sir,--I have made so ill use of your former favours, as by them to be
encouraged to entreat, that they may be enlarged to the patronage and
protection of this Book: and I have put on a modest confidence, that I
shall not be denied, because it is a discourse of Fish and Fishing,
which you know so well, and both love and practice so much.
You are assured, though there be ignorant men of another belief, that
Angling is an Art: and you know that Art better than others; and that
this is truth is demonstrated by the fruits of that pleasant labour
which you enjoy, when you purpose to give rest to your mind, and divest
yourself of your more serious business, and, which is often, dedicate a
day or two to this recreation.
At which time, if common Anglers should attend you, and be eyewitnesses
of the success, not of your fortune, but your skill, it would doubtless
beget in them an emulation to be like you, and that emulation might
beget an industrious diligence to be so; but I know it is not attainable
by common capacities: and there be now many men of great wisdom,
learning, and experience, which love and practice this Art, that know I
speak the truth.
Sir, this pleasant curiosity of Fish and Fishing, of which you are so
great a master, has been thought worthy the pens and practices of divers
in other nations, that have been reputed men of great learning and
wisdom. And amongst those of this nation, I remember Sir Henry Wotton, a
dear lover of this Art, has told me, that his intentions were to write a
Discourse of the Art, and in praise of Angling; and doubtless he had
done so, if death had not prevented him; the remembrance of which had
often made me sorry, for if he had lived to do it, then the unlearned
Angler had seen some better treatise of this Art, a treatise that might
have proved worthy his perusal, which, though some have undertaken, I
could never yet see in English.
But mine may be thought as weak, and as unworthy of common view; and I
do here freely confess, that I should rather excuse myself, than censure
others, my own discourse being liable to so many exceptions; against
which you, Sir, might make this one, that it can contribute nothing to
YOUR knowledge. And lest a longer epistle may diminish your pleasure, I
shall make this no longer than to add this following truth, that I am
really,
Sir,
your most affectionate Friend,
and most humble Servant,
Iz. Wa.
The epistle to the reader
To all Readers of this discourse, but especially to the honest Angler
I think fit to tell thee these following truths; that I did neither
undertake, nor write, nor publish, and much less own, this Discourse to
please myself: and, having been too easily drawn to do all to please
others, as I propose not the gaining of credit by this undertaking, so I
would not willingly lose any part of that to which I had a just title
before I began it; and do therefore desire and hope, if I deserve not
commendations, yet I may obtain pardon.
And though this Discourse may be liable to some exceptions, yet I cannot
doubt but that most Readers may receive so much pleasure or profit by
it, as may make it worthy the time of their perusal, if they be not too
grave or too busy men. And this is all the confidence that I can put on,
concerning the merit of what is here offered to their consideration and
censure; and if the last prove too severe, as I have a liberty, so I am
resolved to use it, and neglect all sour censures.
And I wish the Reader also to take notice, that in writing of it I have
made myself a recreation of a recreation; and that it might prove so to
him, and not read dull and tediously, I have in several places mixed,
not any scurrility, but some innocent, harmless mirth, of which, if thou
be a severe, sour-complexioned man, then I here disallow thee to be a
competent judge; for divines say, there are offences given, and offences
not given but taken.
And I am the willinger to justify the pleasant part of it, because
though it is known I can be serious at seasonable times, yet the whole
Discourse is, or rather was, a picture of my own disposition, especially
in such days and times as I have laid aside business, and gone a-fishing
with honest Nat. and R. Roe; but they are gone, and with them most of my
pleasant hours, even as a shadow that passeth away and returns not.
And next let me add this, that he that likes not the book, should like
the excellent picture of the Trout, and some of the other fish, which I
may take a liberty to commend, because they concern not myself.
Next, let me tell the Reader, that in that which is the more useful part
of this Discourse, that is to say, the observations of the nature and
breeding, and seasons, and catching of fish, I am not so simple as not
to know, that a captious reader may find exceptions against something
said of some of these; and therefore I must entreat him to consider,
that experience teaches us to know that several countries alter the
time, and I think, almost the manner, of fishes' breeding, but doubtless
of their being in season; as may appear by three rivers in
Monmouthshire, namely, Severn, Wye, and Usk, where Camden observes, that
in the river Wye, Salmon are in season from September to April; and we
are certain, that in Thames and Trent, and in most other rivers, they be
in season the six hotter months.
Now for the Art of catching fish, that is to say, How to make a man that
was none to be an Angler by a book, he that undertakes it shall
undertake a harder task than Mr. Hales, a most valiant and excellent
fencer, who in a printed book called A Private School of Defence
undertook to teach that art or science, and was laughed at for his
labour. Not but that many useful things might be learned by that book,
but he was laughed at because that art was not to be taught by words,
but practice: and so must Angling. And note also, that in this Discourse
I do not undertake to say all that is known, or may be said of it, but I
undertake to acquaint the Reader with many things that are not usually
known to every Angler; and I shall leave gleanings and observations
enough to be made out of the experience of all that love and practice
this recreation, to which I shall encourage them. For Angling may be
said to be so like the Mathematicks, that it can never be fully learnt;
at least not so fully, but that there will still be more new experiments
left for the trial of other men that succeed us.
But I think all that love this game may here learn something that may be
worth their money, if they be not poor and needy men: and in case they
be, I then wish them to forbear to buy it; for I write not to get money,
but for pleasure, and this Discourse boasts of no more, for I hate to
promise much, and deceive the Reader.
And however it proves to him, yet I am sure I have found a high content
in the search and conference of what is here offered to the Reader's
view and censure. I wish him as much in the perusal of it, and so I
might here take my leave; but will stay a little and tell him, that
whereas it is said by many, that in fly-fishing for a Trout, the Angler
must observe his twelve several flies for the twelve months of the year,
I say, he that follows that rule, shall be as sure to catch fish, and be
as wise, as he that makes hay by the fair days in an Almanack, and no
surer; for those very flies that used to appear about, and on, the water
in one month of the year, may the following year come almost a month
sooner or later, as the same year proves colder or hotter: and yet, in
the following Discourse, I have set down the twelve flies that are in
reputation with many anglers; and they may serve to give him some
observations concerning them. And he may note, that there are in Wales,
and other countries, peculiar flies, proper to the particular place or
country; and doubtless, unless a man makes a fly to counterfeit that
very fly in that place, he is like to lose his labour, or much of it;
but for the generality, three or four flies neat and rightly made, and
not too big, serve for a Trout in most rivers, all the summer: and for
winter fly-fishing it is as useful as an Almanack out of date. And of
these, because as no man is born an artist, so no man is born an Angler,
I thought fit to give thee this notice.
When I have told the reader, that in this fifth impression there are
many enlargements, gathered both by my own observation, and the
communication with friends, I shall stay him no longer than to wish him
a rainy evening to read this following Discourse; and that if he be an
honest Angler, the east wind may never blow when he goes a-fishing.
I. W.
The first day
A Conference betwixt an Angler, a Falconer, and a Hunter, each
commending his Recreation
Chapter I
Piscator, Venator, Auceps
Piscator. You are well overtaken, Gentlemen! A good morning to you both!
I have stretched my legs up Tottenham Hill to overtake you, hoping your
business may occasion you towards Ware, whither I am going this fine
fresh May morning.
Venator. Sir, I, for my part, shall almost answer your hopes; for my
purpose is to drink my morning's draught at the Thatched House in
Hoddesden; and I think not to rest till I come thither, where I have
appointed a friend or two to meet me: but for this gentleman that you
see with me, I know not how far he intends his journey; he came so
lately into my company, that I have scarce had time to ask him the
question.
Auceps. Sir, I shall by your favour bear you company as far as
Theobalds, and there leave you; for then I turn up to a friend's house,
who mews a Hawk for me, which I now long to see.
Venator. Sir, we are all so happy as to have a fine, fresh, cool
morning; and I hope we shall each be the happier in the others' company.
And, Gentlemen, that I may not lose yours, I shall either abate or amend
my pace to enjoy it, knowing that, as the Italians say, "Good company in
a journey makes the way to seem the shorter".
Auceps. It may do so, Sir, with the help of good discourse, which,
methinks, we may promise from you, that both look and speak so
cheerfully: and for my part, I promise you, as an invitation to it, that
I will be as free and open hearted as discretion will allow me to be
with strangers.
Venator. And, Sir, I promise the like.
Piscator. I am right glad to hear your answers; and, in confidence you
speak the truth, I shall put on a boldness to ask you, Sir, whether
business or pleasure caused you to be so early up, and walk so fast? for
this other gentleman hath declared he is going to see a hawk, that a
friend mews for him.
Venator. Sir, mine is a mixture of both, a little business and more
pleasure; for I intend this day to do all my business, and then bestow
another day or two in hunting the Otter, which a friend, that I go to
meet, tells me is much pleasanter than any other chase whatsoever:
howsoever, I mean to try it; for to-morrow morning we shall meet a pack
of Otter-dogs of noble Mr. Sadler's, upon Amwell Hill, who will be there
so early, that they intend to prevent the sunrising.
Piscator. Sir, my fortune has answered my desires, and my purpose is to
bestow a day or two in helping to destroy some of those villanous
vermin: for I hate them perfectly, because they love fish so well, or
rather, because they destroy so much; indeed so much, that, in my
judgment all men that keep Otter-dogs ought to have pensions from the
King, to encourage them to destroy the very breed of those base Otters,
they do so much mischief.
Venator. But what say you to the Foxes of the Nation, would not you as
willingly have them destroyed? for doubtless they do as much mischief as
Otters do.
Piscator. Oh, Sir, if they do, it is not so much to me and my
fraternity, as those base vermin the Otters do.
Auceps. Why, Sir, I pray, of what fraternity are you, that you are so
angry with the poor Otters?
Piscator. I am, Sir, a Brother of the Angle, and therefore an enemy to
the Otter: for you are to note, that we Anglers all love one another,
and therefore do I hate the Otter both for my own, and their sakes who
are of my brotherhood.
Venator. And I am a lover of Hounds; I have followed many a pack of dogs
many a mile, and heard many merry Huntsmen make sport and scoff at
Anglers.
Auceps. And I profess myself a Falconer, and have heard many grave,
serious men pity them, it is such a heavy, contemptible, dull
recreation.
Piscator. You know, Gentlemen, it is an easy thing to scoff at any art
or recreation; a little wit mixed with ill nature, confidence, and
malice, will do it; but though they often venture boldly, yet they are
often caught, even in their own trap, according to that of Lucian, the
father of the family of Scoffers:
"_Lucian, well skilled in scoffing, this hath writ;
Friend, that's your folly, which you think your wit:
This, you vent oft, void both of wit and fear,
Meaning another, when yourself you jeer._"
If to this you add what Solomon says of Scoffers, that "they are an
abomination to mankind," let him that thinks fit scoff on, and be a
Scoffer still; but I account them enemies to me and all that love Virtue
and Angling.
And for you that have heard many grave, serious men pity Anglers; let me
tell you, Sir, there be many men that are by others taken to be serious
and grave men, whom we contemn and pity. Men that are taken to be grave,
because nature hath made them of a sour complexion; money-getting men,
men that spend all their time, first in getting, and next, in anxious
care to keep it; men that are condemned to be rich, and then always busy
or discontented: for these poor rich-men, we Anglers pity them
perfectly, and stand in no need to borrow their thoughts to think
ourselves so happy. No, no, Sir, we enjoy a contentedness above the
reach of such dispositions, and as the learned and ingenuous Montaigne
says, like himself, freely, "When my Cat and I entertain each other with
mutual apish tricks, as playing with a garter, who knows but that I make
my Cat more sport than she makes me? Shall I conclude her to be simple,
that has her time to begin or refuse, to play as freely as I myself
have? Nay, who knows but that it is a defect of my not understanding her
language, for doubtless Cats talk and reason with one another, that we
agree no better: and who knows but that she pities me for being no wiser
than to play with her, and laughs and censures my folly, for making
sport for her, when we two play together?"
Thus freely speaks Montaigne concerning Cats; and I hope I may take as
great a liberty to blame any man, and laugh at him too, let him be never
so grave, that hath not heard what Anglers can say in the justification
of their Art and Recreation; which I may again tell you, is so full of
pleasure, that we need not borrow their thoughts, to think ourselves
happy.
Venator. Sir, you have almost amazed me; for though I am no Scoffer, yet
I have, I pray let me speak it without offence, always looked upon
Anglers, as more patient, and more simple men, than I fear I shall find
you to be.
Piscator. Sir, I hope you will not judge my earnestness to be
impatience: and for my simplicity, if by that you mean a harmlessness,
or that simplicity which was usually found in the primitive Christians,
who were, as most Anglers are, quiet men, and followers of peace; men
that were so simply wise, as not to sell their consciences to buy
riches, and with them vexation and a fear to die; if you mean such
simple men as lived in those times when there were fewer lawyers; when
men might have had a lordship safely conveyed to them in a piece of
parchment no bigger than your hand, though several sheets will not do it
safely in this wiser age; I say, Sir, if you take us Anglers to be such
simple men as I have spoke of, then myself and those of my profession
will be glad to be so understood: But if by simplicity you meant to
express a general defect in those that profess and practice the
excellent Art of Angling, I hope in time to disabuse you, and make the
contrary appear so evidently, that if you will but have patience to hear
me, I shall remove all the anticipations that discourse, or time, or
prejudice, have possessed you with against that laudable and ancient
Art; for I know it is worthy the knowledge and practice of a wise man.
But, Gentlemen, though I be able to do this, I am not so unmannerly as
to engross all the discourse to myself; and, therefore, you two having
declared yourselves, the one to be a lover of Hawks, the other of
Hounds, I shall be most glad to hear what you can say in the
commendation of that recreation which each of you love and practice; and
having heard what you can say, I shall be glad to exercise your
attention with what I can say concerning my own recreation and Art of
Angling, and by this means we shall make the way to seem the shorter:
and if you like my motion, I would have Mr. Falconer to begin.
Auceps. Your motion is consented to with all my heart; and to testify
it, I will begin as you have desired me.
And first, for the Element that I use to trade in, which is the Air, an
element of more worth than weight, an element that doubtless exceeds
both the Earth and Water; for though I sometimes deal in both, yet the
air is most properly mine, I and my Hawks use that most, and it yields
us most recreation. It stops not the high soaring of my noble, generous
Falcon; in it she ascends to such a height as the dull eyes of beasts
and fish are not able to reach to; their bodies are too gross for such
high elevations; in the Air my troops of Hawks soar up on high, and when
they are lost in the sight of men, then they attend upon and converse
with the Gods; therefore I think my Eagle is so justly styled Jove's
servant in ordinary: and that very Falcon, that I am now going to see,
deserves no meaner a title, for she usually in her flight endangers
herself, like the son of Daedalus, to have her wings scorched by the
sun's heat, she flies so near it, but her mettle makes her careless of
danger; for she then heeds nothing, but makes her nimble pinions cut the
fluid air, and so makes her highway over the steepest mountains and
deepest rivers, and in her glorious career looks with contempt upon
those high steeples and magnificent palaces which we adore and wonder
at; from which height, I can make her to descend by a word from my
mouth, which she both knows and obeys, to accept of meat from my hand,
to own me for her Master, to go home with me, and be willing the next
day to afford me the like recreation.
And more; this element of air which I profess to trade in, the worth of
it is such, and it is of such necessity, that no creature whatsoever--not
only those numerous creatures that feed on the face of the earth, but
those various creatures that have their dwelling within the waters,
every creature that hath life in its nostrils, stands in need of my
element. The waters cannot preserve the Fish without air, witness the
not breaking of ice in an extreme frost; the reason is, for that if the
inspiring and expiring organ of any animal be stopped, it suddenly
yields to nature, and dies. Thus necessary is air, to the existence both
of Fish and Beasts, nay, even to Man himself; that air, or breath of
life, with which God at first inspired mankind, he, if he wants it, dies
presently, becomes a sad object to all that loved and beheld him, and in
an instant turns to putrefaction.
Nay more; the very birds of the air, those that be not Hawks, are both
so many and so useful and pleasant to mankind, that I must not let them
pass without some observations. They both feed and refresh him; feed him
with their choice bodies, and refresh him with their heavenly voices. I
will not undertake to mention the several kinds of Fowl by which this is
done: and his curious palate pleased by day, and which with their very
excrements afford him a soft lodging at night. These I will pass by, but
not those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble forth their
curious ditties, with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of
art.
As first the Lark, when she means to rejoice, to cheer herself and those
that hear her; she then quits the earth, and sings as she ascends higher
into the air and having ended her heavenly employment, grows then mute,
and sad, to think she must descend to the dull earth, which she would
not touch, but for necessity.
How do the Blackbird and Thrassel with their melodious voices bid
welcome to the cheerful Spring, and in their fixed months warble forth
such ditties as no art or instrument can reach to!
Nay, the smaller birds also do the like in their particular seasons, as
namely the Laverock, the Tit-lark, the little Linnet, and the honest
Robin that loves mankind both alive and dead.
But the Nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet
loud musick out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make
mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the
very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the
clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the
doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth,
and say, "Lord, what musick hast thou provided for the Saints in Heaven,
when thou affordest bad men such musick on Earth!"
And this makes me the less to wonder at the many Aviaries in Italy, or
at the great charge of Varro's Aviary, the ruins of which are yet to be
seen in Rome, and is still so famous there, that it is reckoned for one
of those notables which men of foreign nations either record, or lay up
in their memories when they return from travel.
This for the birds of pleasure, of which very much more might be said.
My next shall be of birds of political use. I think it is not to be
doubted that Swallows have been taught to carry letters between two
armies; but 'tis certain that when the Turks besieged Malta or Rhodes, I
now remember not which it was, Pigeons are then related to carry and
recarry letters: and Mr. G. Sandys, in his Travels, relates it to be
done betwixt Aleppo and Babylon, But if that be disbelieved, it is not
to be doubted that the Dove was sent out of the ark by Noah, to give him
notice of land, when to him all appeared to be sea; and the Dove proved
a faithful and comfortable messenger. And for the sacrifices of the law,
a pair of Turtle-doves, or young Pigeons, were as well accepted as
costly Bulls and Rams; and when God would feed the Prophet Elijah, after
a kind of miraculous manner, he did it by Ravens, who brought him meat
morning and evening. Lastly, the Holy Ghost, when he descended visibly
upon our Saviour, did it by assuming the shape of a Dove. And, to
conclude this part of my discourse, pray remember these wonders were
done by birds of air, the element in which they, and I, take so much
pleasure.
There is also a little contemptible winged creature, an inhabitant of my
aerial element, namely the laborious Bee, of whose prudence, policy, and
regular government of their own commonwealth, I might say much, as also
of their several kinds, and how useful their honey and wax are both for
meat and medicines to mankind; but I will leave them to their sweet
labour, without the least disturbance, believing them to be all very
busy at this very time amongst the herbs and flowers that we see nature
puts forth this May morning.
And now to return to my Hawks, from whom I have made too long a
digression. You are to note, that they are usually distinguished into
two kinds; namely, the long-winged, and the short-winged Hawk: of the
first kind, there be chiefly in use amongst us in this nation,
The Gerfalcon and Jerkin,
The Falcon and Tassel-gentle,
The Laner and Laneret,
The Bockerel and Bockeret,
The Saker and Sacaret,
The Merlin and Jack Merlin,
The Hobby and Jack:
There is the Stelletto of Spain,
The Blood-red Rook from Turkey,
The Waskite from Virginia:
And there is of short-winged Hawks,
The Eagle and Iron
The Goshawk and Tarcel,
The Sparhawk and Musket,
The French Pye of two sorts:
These are reckoned Hawks of note and worth; but we have also of an
inferior rank,
The Stanyel, the Ringtail,
The Raven, the Buzzard,
The Forked Kite, the Bald Buzzard,
The Hen-driver, and others that I forbear to name.
Gentlemen, if I should enlarge my discourse to the observation of the
Eires, the Brancher, the Ramish Hawk, the Haggard, and the two sorts of
Lentners, and then treat of their several Ayries, their Mewings, rare
order of casting, and the renovation of their feathers: their
reclaiming, dieting, and then come to their rare stories of practice; I
say, if I should enter into these, and many other observations that I
could make, it would be much, very much pleasure to me: but lest I
should break the rules of civility with you, by taking up more than the
proportion of time allotted to me, I will here break off, and entreat
you, Mr. Venator, to say what you are able in the commendation of
Hunting, to which you are so much affected; and if time will serve, I
will beg your favour for a further enlargement of some of those several
heads of which I have spoken. But no more at present.
Venator. Well, Sir, and I will now take my turn, and will first begin
with a commendation of the Earth, as you have done most excellently of
the Air; the Earth being that element upon which I drive my pleasant,
wholesome, hungry trade. The Earth is a solid, settled element; an
element most universally beneficial both to man and beast; to men who
have their several recreations upon it, as horse-races, hunting, sweet
smells, pleasant walks: the earth feeds man, and all those several
beasts that both feed him, and afford him recreation. What pleasure doth
man take in hunting the stately Stag, the generous Buck, the wild Boar,
the cunning Otter, the crafty Fox, and the fearful Hare! And if I may
descend to a lower game, what pleasure is it sometimes with gins to
betray the very vermin of the earth; as namely, the Fichat, the
Fulimart, the Ferret, the Pole-cat, the Mouldwarp, and the like
creatures that live upon the face, and within the bowels of, the Earth.
How doth the Earth bring forth herbs, flowers, and fruits, both for
physick and the pleasure of mankind! and above all, to me at least, the
fruitful vine, of which when I drink moderately, it clears my brain,
cheers my heart, and sharpens my wit. How could Cleopatra have feasted
Mark Antony with eight wild Boars roasted whole at one supper, and other
meat suitable, if the earth had not been a bountiful mother? But to pass
by the mighty Elephant, which the Earth breeds and nourisheth, and
descend to the least of creatures, how doth the earth afford us a
doctrinal example in the little Pismire, who in the summer provides and
lays up her winter provision, and teaches man to do the like! The earth
feeds and carries those horses that carry us. If I would be prodigal of
my time and your patience, what might not I say in commendations of the
earth? That puts limits to the proud and raging sea, and by that means
preserves both man and beast, that it destroys them not, as we see it
daily doth those that venture upon the sea, and are there shipwrecked,
drowned, and left to feed Haddocks; when we that are so wise as to keep
ourselves on earth, walk, and talk, and live, and eat, and drink, and go
a hunting: of which recreation I will say a little, and then leave Mr.
Piscator to the commendation of Angling.
Hunting is a game for princes and noble persons; it hath been highly
prized in all ages; it was one of the qualifications that Xenophon
bestowed on his Cyrus, that he was a hunter of wild beasts. Hunting
trains up the younger nobility to the use of manly exercises in their
riper age. What more manly exercise than hunting the Wild Boar, the
Stag, the Buck, the Fox, or the Hare? How doth it preserve health, and
increase strength and activity!
And for the dogs that we use, who can commend their excellency to that
height which they deserve? How perfect is the hound at smelling, who
never leaves or forsakes his first scent, but follows it through so many
changes and varieties of other scents, even over, and in, the water, and
into the earth! What music doth a pack of dogs then make to any man,
whose heart and ears are so happy as to be set to the tune of such
instruments! How will a right Greyhound fix his eye on the best Buck in
a herd, single him out, and follow him, and him only, through a whole
herd of rascal game, and still know and then kill him! For my hounds, I
know the language of them, and they know the language and meaning of one
another, as perfectly as we know the voices of those with whom we
discourse daily.
I might enlarge myself in the commendation of Hunting, and of the noble
Hound especially, as also of the docibleness of dogs in general; and I
might make many observations of land-creatures, that for composition,
order, figure, and constitution, approach nearest to the completeness
and understanding of man; especially of those creatures, which Moses in
the Law permitted to the Jews, which have cloven hoofs, and chew the
cud; which I shall forbear to name, because I will not be so uncivil to
Mr. Piscator, as not to allow him a time for the commendation of
Angling, which he calls an art; but doubtless it is an easy one: and,
Mr. Auceps, I doubt we shall hear a watery discourse of it, but I hope
it will not be a long one.
Auceps. And I hope so too, though I fear it will.
Piscator. Gentlemen, let not prejudice prepossess you. I confess my
discourse is like to prove suitable to my recreation, calm and quiet; we
seldom take the name of God into our mouths, but it is either to praise
him, or pray to him: if others use it vainly in the midst of their
recreations, so vainly as if they meant to conjure, I must tell you, it
is neither our fault nor our custom; we protest against it. But, pray
remember, I accuse nobody; for as I would not make a "watery discourse,"
so I would not put too much vinegar into it; nor would I raise the
reputation of my own art, by the diminution or ruin of another's. And so
much for the prologue to what I mean to say.
And now for the Water, the element that I trade in. The water is the
eldest daughter of the creation, the element upon which the Spirit of
God did first move, the element which God commanded to bring forth
living creatures abundantly; and without which, those that inhabit the
land, even all creatures that have breath in their nostrils, must
suddenly return to putrefaction. Moses, the great lawgiver and chief
philosopher, skilled in all the learning of the Egyptians, who was
called the friend of God, and knew the mind of the Almighty, names this
element the first in the creation: this is the element upon which the
Spirit of God did first move, and is the chief ingredient in the
creation: many philosophers have made it to comprehend all the other
elements, and most allow it the chiefest in the mixtion of all living
creatures.
There be that profess to believe that all bodies are made of water, and
may be reduced back again to water only; they endeavour to demonstrate
it thus:
Take a willow, or any like speedy growing plant newly rooted in a box or
barrel full of earth, weigh them all together exactly when the tree
begins to grow, and then weigh all together after the tree is increased
from its first rooting, to weigh a hundred pound weight more than when
it was first rooted and weighed; and you shall find this augment of the
tree to be without the diminution of one drachm weight of the earth.
Hence they infer this increase of wood to be from water of rain, or from
dew, and not to be from any other element; and they affirm, they can
reduce this wood back again to water; and they affirm also, the same may
be done in any animal or vegetable. And this I take to be a fair
testimony of the excellency of my element of water.
The water is more productive than the earth. Nay, the earth hath no
fruitfulness without showers or dews; for all the herbs, and flowers,
and fruit, are produced and thrive by the water; and the very minerals
are fed by streams that run under ground, whose natural course carries
them to the tops of many high mountains, as we see by several springs
breaking forth on the tops of the highest hills; and this is also
witnessed by the daily trial and testimony of several miners.
Nay, the increase of those creatures that are bred and fed in the water
are not only more and more miraculous, but more advantageous to man, not
only for the lengthening of his life, but for the preventing of
sickness; for it is observed by the most learned physicians, that the
casting off of Lent, and other fish days, which hath not only given the
lie to so many learned, pious, wise founders of colleges, for which we
should be ashamed, hath doubtless been the chief cause of those many
putrid, shaking intermitting agues, unto which this nation of ours is
now more subject, than those wiser countries that feed on herbs, salads,
and plenty of fish; of which it is observed in story, that the greatest
part of the world now do. And it may be fit to remember that Moses
appointed fish to be the chief diet for the best commonwealth that ever
yet was.
And it is observable, not only that there are fish, as namely the Whale,
three times as big as the mighty Elephant, that is so fierce in battle,
but that the mightiest feasts have been of fish. The Romans, in the
height of their glory, have made fish the mistress of all their
entertainments; they have had musick to usher in their Sturgeons,
Lampreys, and Mullets, which they would purchase at rates rather to be
wondered at than believed. He that shall view the writings of Macrobius,
or Varro, may be confirmed and informed of this, and of the incredible
value of their fish and fish-ponds.
But, Gentlemen, I have almost lost myself, which I confess I may easily
do in this philosophical discourse; I met with most of it very lately,
and, I hope, happily, in a conference with a most learned physician, Dr.
Wharton, a dear friend, that loves both me and my art of Angling. But,
however, I will wade no deeper into these mysterious arguments, but pass
to such observations as I can manage with more pleasure, and less fear
of running into error. But I must not yet forsake the waters, by whose
help we have so many known advantages.
And first, to pass by the miraculous cures of our known baths, how
advantageous is the sea for our daily traffick, without which we could
not now subsist. How does it not only furnish us with food and physick
for the bodies, but with such observations for the mind as ingenious
persons would not want!
How ignorant had we been of the beauty of Florence, of the monuments,
urns, and rarities that yet remain in and near unto old and new Rome, so
many as it is said will take up a year's time to view, and afford to
each of them but a convenient consideration! And therefore it is not to
be wondered at, that so learned and devout a father as St. Jerome, after
his wish to have seen Christ in the flesh, and to have heard St. Paul
preach, makes his third wish, to have seen Rome in her glory; and that
glory is not yet all lost, for what pleasure is it to see the monuments
of Livy, the choicest of the historians; of Tully, the best of orators;
and to see the bay trees that now grow out of the very tomb of Virgil!
These, to any that love learning, must be pleasing. But what pleasure is
it to a devout Christian, to see there the humble house in which St.
Paul was content to dwell, and to view the many rich statues that are
made in honour of his memory! nay, to see the very place in which St.
Peter and he lie buried together! These are in and near to Rome. And how
much more doth it please the pious curiosity of a Christian, to see that
place, on which the blessed Saviour of the world was pleased to humble
himself, and to take our nature upon him, and to converse with men: to
see Mount Sion, Jerusalem, and the very sepulchre of our Lord Jesus! How
may it beget and heighten the zeal of a Christian, to see the devotions
that are daily paid to him at that place! Gentlemen, lest I forget
myself, I will stop here, and remember you, that but for my element of
water, the inhabitants of this poor island must remain ignorant that
such things ever were, or that any of them have yet a being.
Gentlemen, I might both enlarge and lose myself in such like arguments.
I might tell you that Almighty God is said to have spoken to a fish, but
never to a beast; that he hath made a whale a ship, to carry and set his
prophet, Jonah, safe on the appointed shore. Of these I might speak, but
I must in manners break off, for I see Theobald's House. I cry you mercy
for being so long, and thank you for your patience.
Auceps. Sir, my pardon is easily granted you: I except against nothing
that you have said: nevertheless, I must part with you at this
park-wall, for which I am very sorry; but I assure you, Mr. Piscator, I
now part with you full of good thoughts, not only of yourself, but your
recreation. And so, Gentlemen, God keep you both.
Piscator. Well, now, Mr. Venator, you shall neither want time, nor my
attention to hear you enlarge your discourse concerning hunting.
Venator. Not I, Sir: I remember you said that Angling itself was of
great antiquity, and a perfect art, and an art not easily attained to;
and you have so won upon me in your former discourse, that I am very
desirous to hear what you can say further concerning those particulars.
Piscator. Sir, I did say so: and I doubt not but if you and I did
converse together but a few hours, to leave you possessed with the same
high and happy thoughts that now possess me of it; not only of the
antiquity of Angling, but that it deserves commendations; and that it is
an art, and an art worthy the knowledge and practice of a wise man.
Venator. Pray, Sir, speak of them what you think fit, for we have yet
five miles to the Thatched House; during which walk, I dare promise you,
my patience and diligent attention shall not be wanting. And if you
shall make that to appear which you have undertaken, first, that it is
an art, and an art worth the learning, I shall beg that I may attend you
a day or two a-fishing, and that I may become your scholar, and be
instructed in the art itself which you so much magnify.
Piscator. O, Sir, doubt not but that Angling is an art; is it not an art
to deceive a Trout with an artificial Fly? a Trout! that is more
sharp-sighted than any Hawk you have named, and more watchful and
timorous than your high-mettled Merlin is bold? and yet, I doubt not to
catch a brace or two to-morrow, for a friend's breakfast: doubt not
therefore, Sir, but that angling is an art, and an art worth your learning.
The question is rather, whether you be capable of learning it? angling
is somewhat like poetry, men are to be born so: I mean, with
inclinations to it, though both may be heightened by discourse and
practice: but he that hopes to be a good angler, must not only bring an
inquiring, searching, observing wit, but he must bring a large measure
of hope and patience, and a love and propensity to the art itself; but
having once got and practiced it, then doubt not but angling will prove
to be so pleasant, that it will prove to be, like virtue, a reward to
itself.
Venator. Sir, I am now become so full of expectation, that I long much
to have you proceed, and in the order that you propose.
Piscator. Then first, for the antiquity of Angling, of which I shall not
say much, but only this; some say it is as ancient as Deucalion's flood:
others, that Belus, who was the first inventor of godly and virtuous
recreations, was the first inventor of Angling: and some others say, for
former times have had their disquisitions about the antiquity of it,
that Seth, one of the sons of Adam, taught it to his sons, and that by
them it was derived to posterity: others say that he left it engraven on
those pillars which he erected, and trusted to preserve the knowledge of
the mathematicks, musick, and the rest of that precious knowledge, and
those useful arts, which by God's appointment or allowance, and his
noble industry, were thereby preserved from perishing in Noah's flood.
These, Sir, have been the opinions of several men, that have possibly
endeavoured to make angling more ancient than is needful, or may well be
warranted; but for my part, I shall content myself in telling you, that
angling is much more ancient than the incarnation of our Saviour; for in
the Prophet Amos mention is made of fish-hooks; and in the book of Job,
which was long before the days of Amos, for that book is said to have
been written by Moses, mention is made also of fish-hooks, which must
imply anglers in those times.
But, my worthy friend, as I would rather prove myself a gentleman, by
being learned and humble, valiant and inoffensive, virtuous and
communicable, than by any fond ostentation of riches, or, wanting those
virtues myself, boast that these were in my ancestors; and yet I grant,
that where a noble and ancient descent and such merit meet in any man,
it is a double dignification of that person; so if this antiquity of
angling, which for my part I have not forced, shall, like an ancient
family, be either an honour, or an ornament to this virtuous art which I
profess to love and practice, I shall be the gladder that I made an
accidental mention of the antiquity of it, of which I shall say no more,
but proceed to that just commendation which I think it deserves.
And for that, I shall tell you, that in ancient times a debate hath
risen, and it remains yet unresolved, whether the happiness of man in
this world doth consist more in contemplation or action? Concerning
which, some have endeavoured to maintain their opinion of the first; by
saying, that the nearer we mortals come to God by way of imitation, the
more happy we are. And they say, that God enjoys himself only, by a
contemplation of his own infiniteness, eternity, power, and goodness,
and the like. And upon this ground, many cloisteral men of great
learning and devotion, prefer contemplation before action. And many of
the fathers seem to approve this opinion, as may appear in their
commentaries upon the words of our Saviour to Martha.
And on the contrary, there want not men of equal authority and credit,
that prefer action to be the more excellent; as namely, experiments in
physick, and the application of it, both for the ease and prolongation
of man's life; by which each man is enabled to act and do good to
others, either to serve his country, or do good to particular persons:
and they say also, that action is doctrinal, and teaches both art and
virtue, and is a maintainer of human society; and for these, and other
like reasons, to be preferred before contemplation.
Concerning which two opinions I shall forbear to add a third, by
declaring my own; and rest myself contented in telling you, my very
worthy friend, that both these meet together, and do most properly
belong to the most honest, ingenuous, quiet, and harmless art of
angling.
And first, I shall tell you what some have observed, and I have found it
to be a real truth, that the very sitting by the river's side is not
only the quietest and fittest place for contemplation, but will invite
an angler to it: and this seems to be maintained by the learned Peter du
Moulin, who, in his discourse of the fulfilling of Prophecies, observes,
that when God intended to reveal any future events or high notions to
his prophets, he then carried them either to the deserts, or the
sea-shore, that having so separated them from amidst the press of people
and business, and the cares of the world, he might settle their mind in
a quiet repose, and there make them fit for revelation.
And this seems also to be imitated by the children of Israel, who having
in a sad condition banished all mirth and musick from their pensive
hearts, and having hung up their then mute harps upon the willow-trees
growing by the rivers of Babylon, sat down upon those banks, bemoaning
the ruins of Sion, and contemplating their own sad condition.
And an ingenious Spaniard says, that "rivers and the inhabitants of the
watery element were made for wise men to contemplate, and fools to pass
by without consideration ". And though I will not rank myself in the
number of the first, yet give me leave to free myself from the last, by
offering to you a short contemplation, first of rivers, and then of
fish; concerning which I doubt not but to give you many observations
that will appear very considerable: I am sure they have appeared so to
me, and made many an hour pass away more pleasantly, as I have sat
quietly on a flowery bank by a calm river, and contemplated what I shall
now relate to you.
And first concerning rivers; there be so many wonders reported and
written of them, and of the several creatures that be bred and live in
them, and those by authors of so good credit, that we need not to deny
them an historical faith.
As namely of a river in Epirus that puts out any lighted torch, and
kindles any torch that was not lighted. Some waters being drunk, cause
madness, some drunkenness, and some laughter to death. The river Selarus
in a few hours turns a rod or wand to stone: and our Camden mentions the
like in England, and the like in Lochmere in Ireland. There is also a
river in Arabia, of which all the sheep that drink thereof have their
wool turned into a vermilion colour. And one of no less credit than
Aristotle, tells us of a merry river, the river Elusina, that dances at
the noise of musick, for with musick it bubbles, dances, and grows
sandy, and so continues till the musick ceases, but then it presently
returns to its wonted calmness and clearness. And Camden tells us of a
well near to Kirby, in Westmoreland, that ebbs and flows several times
every day: and he tells us of a river in Surrey, it is called Mole, that
after it has run several miles, being opposed by hills, finds or makes
itself a way under ground, and breaks out again so far off, that the
inhabitants thereabout boast, as the Spaniards do of their river Anus,
that they feed divers flocks of sheep upon a bridge. And lastly, for I
would not tire your patience, one of no less authority than Josephus,
that learned Jew, tells us of a river in Judea that runs swiftly all the
six days of the week, and stands still and rests all their sabbath.
But I will lay aside my discourse of rivers, and tell you some things of
the monsters, or fish, call them what you will, that they breed and feed
in them. Pliny the philosopher says, in the third chapter of his ninth
book, that in the Indian Sea, the fish called Balaena or Whirlpool, is
so long and broad, as to take up more in length and breadth than two
acres of ground; and, of other fish, of two hundred cubits long; and
that in the river Ganges, there be Eels of thirty feet long. He says
there, that these monsters appear in that sea, only when the tempestuous
winds oppose the torrents of water falling from the rocks into it, and
so turning what lay at the bottom to be seen on the water's top. And he
says, that the people of Cadara, an island near this place, make the
timber for their houses of those fish bones. He there tells us, that
there are sometimes a thousand of these great Eels found wrapt or
interwoven together He tells us there, that it appears that dolphins
love musick, and will come when called for, by some men or boys that
know, and use to feed them; and that they can swim as swift as an arrow
can be shot out of a bow; and much of this is spoken concerning the
dolphin, and other fish, as may be found also in the learned Dr.
Casaubon's Discourse of Credulity and Incredulity, printed by him about
the year 1670.
I know, we Islanders are averse to the belief of these wonders; but
there be so many strange creatures to be now seen, many collected by
John Tradescant, and others added by my friend Elias Ashmole, Esq., who
now keeps them carefully and methodically at his house near to Lambeth,
near London, as may get some belief of some of the other wonders I
mentioned. I will tell you some of the wonders that you may now see, and
not till then believe, unless you think fit.
You may there see the Hog-fish, the Dog-fish, the Dolphin, the
Cony-fish, the Parrot-fish, the Shark, the Poison-fish, Sword-fish, and
not only other incredible fish, but you may there see the Salamander,
several sorts of Barnacles, of Solan-Geese, the Bird of Paradise, such
sorts of Snakes, and such Birds'-nests, and of so various forms, and so
wonderfully made, as may beget wonder and amusement in any beholder; and
so many hundred of other rarities in that collection, as will make the
other wonders I spake of, the less incredible; for, you may note, that
the waters are Nature's store-house, in which she locks up her wonders.
But, Sir, lest this discourse may seem tedious, I shall give it a sweet
conclusion out of that holy poet, Mr. George Herbert his divine
"Contemplation on God's Providence".
Lord! who hath praise enough, nay, who hath any?
None can express thy works, but he that knows them;
And none can know thy works, they are so many,
And so complete, but only he that owes them.
We all acknowledge both thy power and love
To be exact, transcendant, and divine;
Who cost so strangely and so sweetly move,
Whilst all things have their end, yet none but thine.
Wherefore, most sacred Spirit! I here present,
For me, and all my fellows, praise to thee;
And just it is, that I should pay the rent,
Because the benefit accrues to me.
And as concerning fish, in that psalm, wherein, for height of poetry and
wonders, the prophet David seems even to exceed himself, how doth he
there express himself in choice metaphors, even to the amazement of a
contemplative reader, concerning the sea, the rivers, and the fish
therein contained! And the great naturalist Pliny says, "That nature's
great and wonderful power is more demonstrated in the sea than on the
land ". And this may appear, by the numerous and various creatures
inhabiting both in and about that element; as to the readers of Gesner,
Rondeletius, Pliny, Ausonius, Aristotle, and others, may be
demonstrated. But I will sweeten this discourse also out of a
contemplation in divine Du Bartas, who says:
God quickened in the sea, and in the rivers,
So many fishes of so many features,
That in the waters we may see all creatures,
Even all that on the earth are to be found,
As if the world were in deep waters drown'd.
For seas--as well as skies--have Sun, Moon, Stars
As well as air--Swallows, Rooks, and Stares;
As well as earth--Vines, Roses, Nettles, Melons,
Mushrooms, Pinks, Gilliflowers, and many millions
Of other plants, more rare, more strange than these,
As very fishes, living in the seas;
As also Rams, Calves, Horses, Hares, and Hogs,
Wolves, Urchins, Lions, Elephants, and Dogs;
Yea, Men and Maids, and, which I most admire,
The mitred Bishop and the cowled Friar:
Of which, examples, but a few years since,
Were strewn the Norway and Polonian prince.
These seem to be wonders; but have had so many confirmations from men of
learning and credit, that you need not doubt them. Nor are the number,
nor the various shapes, of fishes more strange, or more fit for
contemplation, than their different natures, inclinations, and actions;
concerning which, I shall beg your patient ear a little longer.
The Cuttle-fish will cast a long gut out of her throat, which, like as
an Angler doth his line, she sendeth forth, and pulleth in again at her
pleasure, according as she sees some little fish come near to her; and
the Cuttle-fish, being then hid in the gravel, lets the smaller fish
nibble and bite the end of it; at which time she, by little and little,
draws the smaller fish so near to her, that she may leap upon her, and
then catches and devours her: and for this reason some have called this
fish the Sea-angler.
And there is a fish called a Hermit, that at a certain age gets into a
dead fish's shell, and, like a hermit, dwells there alone, studying the
wind and weather and so turns her shell, that she makes it defend her
from the injuries that they would bring upon her.
There is also a fish called by Ælian the Adonis, or Darling of the Sea;
so called, because it is a loving and innocent fish, a fish that hurts
nothing that hath life, and is at peace with all the numerous
inhabitants of that vast watery element; and truly, I think most Anglers
are so disposed to most of mankind.
And there are, also, lustful and chaste fishes; of which I shall give
you examples.
And first, what Du Bartas says of a fish called the Sargus; which,
because none can express it better than he does, I shall give you in his
own words, supposing it shall not have the less credit for being verse;
for he hath gathered this and other observations out of authors that
have been great and industrious searchers into the secrets of nature.
The adult'rous Sargus doth not only change
Wives every day, in the deep streams, but, strange!
As if the honey of sea-love delight
Could not suffice his ranging appetite,
Goes courting she-goats on the grassy shore,
Horning their husbands that had horns before.
And the same author writes concerning the Cantharus, that which you
shall also hear in his own words:
But, contrary, the constant Cantharus
Is ever constant to his faithful spouse
In nuptial duties, spending his chaste life.
Never loves any but his own dear wife.
Sir, but a little longer, and I have done.
Venator. Sir, take what liberty you think fit, for your discourse seems
to be musick, and charms me to an attention.
Piscator. Why then, Sir, I will take a little liberty to tell, or rather
to remember you what is said of Turtle-doves; first, that they silently
plight their troth, and marry; and that then the survivor scorns, as the
Thracian women are said to do, to outlive his or her mate, and this is
taken for a truth; and if the survivor shall ever couple with another,
then, not only the living, but the dead, be it either the he or the she,
is denied the name and honour of a true Turtle-dove.
And to parallel this land-rarity, and teach mankind moral faithfulness,
and to condemn those that talk of religion, and yet come short of the
moral faith of fish and fowl, men that violate the law affirmed by St.
Paul to be writ in their hearts, and which, he says, shall at the Last
Day condemn and leave them without excuse--I pray hearken to what Du
Bartas sings, for the hearing of such conjugal faithfulness will be
musick to all chaste ears, and therefore I pray hearken to what Du
Bartas sings of the Mullet.
But for chaste love the Mullet hath no peer;
For, if the fisher hath surpris'd her pheer
As mad with wo, to shore she followeth
Prest to consort him, both in life and death.
On the contrary, what shall I say of the House-Cock, which treads any
hen; and, then, contrary to the Swan, the Partridge, and Pigeon, takes
no care to hatch, to feed, or cherish his own brood, but is senseless,
though they perish. And it is considerable, that the Hen, which, because
she also takes any Cock, expects it not, who is sure the chickens be her
own, hath by a moral impression her care and affection to her own brood
more than doubled, even to such a height, that our Saviour, in
expressing his love to Jerusalem, quotes her, for an example of tender
affection, as his Father had done Job, for a pattern of patience.
And to parallel this Cock, there be divers fishes that cast their spawn
on flags or stones, and then leave it uncovered, and exposed to become a
prey and be devoured by vermin or other fishes. But other fishes, as
namely the Barbel, take such care for the preservation of their seed,
that, unlike to the Cock, or the Cuckoo, they mutually labour, both the
spawner and the melter, to cover their spawn with sand, or watch it, or
hide it in some secret place unfrequented by vermin or by any fish but
themselves.
Sir, these examples may, to you and others, seem strange; but they are
testified, some by Aristotle, some by Pliny, some by Gesner, and by many
others of credit; and are believed and known by divers, both of wisdom
and experience, to be a truth; and indeed are, as I said at the
beginning, fit for the contemplation of a most serious and a most pious
man. And, doubtless, this made the prophet David say, "They that occupy
themselves in deep waters, see the wonderful works of God": indeed such
wonders and pleasures too, as the land affords not.
And that they be fit for the contemplation of the most prudent, and
pious, and peaceable men, seems to be testified by the practice of so
many devout and contemplative men, as the Patriarchs and Prophets of
old; and of the Apostles of our Saviour in our latter times, of which
twelve, we are sure, he chose four that were simple fishermen, whom he
inspired, and sent to publish his blessed will to the Gentiles; and
inspired them also with a power to speak all languages, and by their
powerful eloquence to beget faith in the unbelieving Jews; and
themselves to suffer for that Saviour, whom their forefathers and they
had crucified; and, in their sufferings, to preach freedom from the
incumbrances of the law, and a new way to everlasting life: this was the
employment of these happy fishermen. Concerning which choice, some have
made these observations:
First, that he never reproved these, for their employment or calling, as
he did the Scribes and the Money-changers. And secondly, he found that
the hearts of such men, by nature, were fitted for contemplation and
quietness; men of mild, and sweet, and peaceable spirits, as indeed most
Anglers are: these men our blessed Saviour, who is observed to love to
plant grace in good natures, though indeed nothing be too hard for him,
yet these men he chose to call from their irreprovable employment of
fishing, and gave them grace to be his disciples, and to follow him, and
do wonders; I say four of twelve.
And it is observable, that it was our Saviour's will that these, our
four fishermen, should have a priority of nomination in the catalogue of
his twelve Apostles, as namely, first St. Peter, St. Andrew, St. James,
and St. John; and, then, the rest in their order.
And it is yet more observable, that when our blessed Saviour went up
into the mount, when he left the rest of his disciples, and chose only
three to bear him company at his Transfiguration, that those three were
all fishermen. And it is to be believed, that all the other Apostles,
after they betook themselves to follow Christ, betook themselves to be
fishermen too; for it is certain, that the greater number of them were
found together, fishing, by Jesus after his resurrection, as it is
recorded in the twenty-first chapter of St. John's gospel.
And since I have your promise to hear me with patience, I will take a
liberty to look back upon an observation that hath been made by an
ingenious and learned man; who observes, that God hath been pleased to
allow those whom he himself hath appointed to write his holy will in
holy writ, yet to express his will in such metaphors as their former
affections or practice had inclined them to. And he brings Solomon for
an example, who, before his conversion, was remarkably carnally amorous;
and after, by God's appointment, wrote that spiritual dialogue, or holy
amorous love-song the Canticles, betwixt God and his church: in which he
says, "his beloved had eyes like the fish-pools of Heshbon".
And if this hold in reason, as I see none to the contrary, then it may
be probably concluded, that Moses, who I told you before writ the book
of Job, and the Prophet Amos, who was a shepherd, were both Anglers; for
you shall, in all the Old Testament, find fish-hooks, I think but twice
mentioned, namely, by meek Moses the friend of God, and by the humble
prophet Amos.
Concerning which last, namely the prophet Amos, I shall make but this
observation, that he that shall read the humble, lowly, plain style of
that prophet, and compare it with the high, glorious, eloquent style of
the prophet Isaiah, though they be both equally true, may easily believe
Amos to be, not only a shepherd, but a good-natured plain fisherman.
Which I do the rather believe, by comparing the affectionate, loving,
lowly, humble Epistles of St. Peter, St. James, and St. John, whom we
know were all fishers, with the glorious language and high metaphors of
St. Paul, who we may believe was not.
And for the lawfulness of fishing: it may very well be maintained by our
Saviour's bidding St. Peter cast his hook into the water and catch a
fish, for money to pay tribute to Caesar. And let me tell you, that
Angling is of high esteem, and of much use in other nations. He that
reads the Voyages of Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, shall find that there he
declares to have found a king and several priests a-fishing. And he that
reads Plutarch, shall find, that Angling was not contemptible in the
days of Mark Antony and Cleopatra, and that they, in the midst of their
wonderful glory, used Angling as a principal recreation. And let me tell
you, that in the Scripture, Angling is always taken in the best sense;
and that though hunting may be sometimes so taken, yet it is but seldom
to be so understood. And let me add this more: he that views the ancient
Ecclesiastical Canons, shall find hunting to be forbidden to Churchmen,
as being a turbulent, toilsome, perplexing recreation; and shall find
Angling allowed to clergymen, as being a harmless recreation, a
recreation that invites them to contemplation and quietness.
I might here enlarge myself, by telling you what commendations our
learned Perkins bestows on Angling: and how dear a lover, and great a
practiser of it, our learned Dr. Whitaker was; as indeed many others of
great learning have been. But I will content myself with two memorable
men, that lived near to our own time, whom I also take to have been
ornaments to the art of Angling.
The first is Dr. Nowel, sometime dean of the cathedral church of St.
Paul, in London, where his monument stands yet undefaced; a man that, in
the reformation of Queen Elizabeth, not that of Henry VIII., was so
noted for his meek spirit, deep learning, prudence, and piety, that the
then Parliament and Convocation, both, chose, enjoined, and trusted him
to be the man to make a Catechism for public use, such a one as should
stand as a rule for faith and manners to their posterity. And the good
old man, though he was very learned, yet knowing that God leads us not
to heaven by many, nor by hard questions, like an honest Angler, made
that good, plain, unperplexed Catechism which is printed with our good
old Service-book. I say, this good man was a dear lover and constant
practiser of Angling, as any age can produce: and his custom was to
spend besides his fixed hours of prayer, those hours which, by command
of the church, were enjoined the clergy, and voluntarily dedicated to
devotion by many primitive Christians, I say, besides those hours, this
good man was observed to spend a tenth part of his time in Angling; and,
also, for I have conversed with those which have conversed with him, to
bestow a tenth part of his revenue, and usually all his fish, amongst
the poor that inhabited near to those rivers in which it was caught;
saying often, "that charity gave life to religion ": and, at his return
to his house, would praise God he had spent that day free from worldly
trouble; both harmlessly, and in a recreation that became a churchman.
And this good man was well content, if not desirous, that posterity
should know he was an Angler; as may appear by his picture, now to be
seen, and carefully kept, in Brazen-nose College, to which he was a
liberal benefactor. In which picture he is drawn leaning on a desk, with
his Bible before him; and on one hand of him, his lines, hooks, and
other tackling, lying in a round; and, on his other hand, are his
Angle-rods of several sorts; and by them this is written, "that he died
13 Feb. 1601, being aged ninety-five years, forty-four of which he had
been Dean of St. Paul's church, and that his age neither impaired his
hearing, nor dimmed his eyes, nor weakened his memory, nor made any of
the faculties of his mind weak or useless". It is said that Angling and
temperance were great causes of these blessings; and I wish the like to
all that imitate him, and love the memory of so good a man.
My next and last example shall be that under-valuer of money, the late
provost of Eton College, Sir Henry Wotton, a man with whom I have often
fished and conversed, a man whose foreign employments in the service of
this nation, and whose experience, learning, wit, and cheerfulness, made
his company to be esteemed one of the delights of mankind. This man,
whose very approbation of Angling were sufficient to convince any modest
censurer of it, this man was also a most dear lover, and a frequent
practiser of the art of Angling; of which he would say, "it was an
employment for his idle time, which was then not idly spent"; for
Angling was, after tedious study, "a rest to his mind, a cheerer of his
spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a
moderator of passions, a procurer of contentedness; and that it begat
habits of peace and patience in those that professed and practiced it ".
Indeed, my friend, you will find Angling to be like the virtue of
humility, which has a calmness of spirit, and a world of other blessings
attending upon it. Sir, this was the saying of that learned man.
And I do easily believe, that peace, and patience, and a calm content,
did cohabit in the cheerful heart of Sir Henry Wotton, because I know
that when he was beyond seventy years of age, he made this description
of a part of the present pleasure that possessed him, as he sat quietly,
in a summer's evening, on a bank a-fishing. It is a description of the
spring; which, because it glided as soft and sweetly from his pen, as
that river does at this time, by which it was then made, I shall repeat
it unto you:--
This day dame Nature seem'd in love
The lusty sap began to move;
Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines.
And birds had drawn their valentines.
The jealous trout, that low did lie
Rose at a well-dissembled fly
There stood my Friend, with patient skill,
Attending of his trembling quill.
Already were the eaves possess'd
With the swift pilgrim's daubed nest;
The groves already did rejoice
In Philomel's triumphing voice:
The showers were short, the weather mild,
The morning fresh, the evening smil'd.
Joan takes her neat-rubb'd pail, and now,
She trips to milk the sand-red cow;
Where, for some sturdy foot-ball swain,
Joan strokes a syllabub or twain.
The fields and gardens were beset
With tulips, crocus, violet;
And now, though late, the modest rose
Did more than half a blush disclose.
Thus all looks gay, and full of cheer,
To welcome the new-livery'd year.
These were the thoughts that then possessed the undisturbed mind of Sir
Henry Wotton. Will you hear the wish of another Angler, and the
commendation of his happy life, which he also sings in verse: viz. Jo.
Davors, Esq.
Let me live harmlessly, and near the brink
Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling-place
Where I may see my quill, or cork, down sink
With eager bite of Perch, or Bleak, or Dace;
And on the world and my Creator think:
Whilst some men strive ill-gotten goods t' embrace;
And others spend their time in base excess
Of wine, or worse, in war and wantonness.
Let them that list, these pastimes still pursue,
And on such pleasing fancies feed their fill;
So I the fields and meadows green may view,
And daily by fresh rivers walk at will
Among the daisies and the violets blue,
Red hyacinth, and yellow daffodil,
Purple Narcissus like the morning rays,
Pale gander-grass, and azure culver-keys.
I count it higher pleasure to behold
The stately compass of the lofty sky;
And in the midst thereof, like burning gold,
The flaming chariot of the world's great eye:
The watery clouds that in the air up-roll'd
With sundry kinds of painted colours fly;
And fair Aurora, lifting up her head,
Still blushing, rise from old Tithonus' bed.
The hills and mountains raised from the plains,
The plains extended level with the ground
The grounds divided into sundry veins,
The veins inclos'd with rivers running round;
These rivers making way through nature's chains,
With headlong course, into the sea profound;
The raging sea, beneath the vallies low,
Where lakes, and rills, and rivulets do flow:
The lofty woods, the forests wide and long,
Adorned with leaves and branches fresh and green,
In whose cool bowers the birds with many a song,
Do welcome with their quire the summer's Queen;
The meadows fair, where Flora's gifts, among
Are intermix'd with verdant grass between;
The silver-scaled fish that softly swim
Within the sweet brook's crystal, watery stream.
All these, and many more of his creation
That made the heavens, the Angler oft doth see;
Taking therein no little delectation,
To think how strange, how wonderful they be:
Framing thereof an inward contemplation
To set his heart from other fancies free;
And whilst he looks on these with joyful eye,
His mind is rapt above the starry sky.
Sir, I am glad my memory has not lost these last verses, because they
are somewhat more pleasant and more suitable to May-day than my harsh
discourse. And I am glad your patience hath held out so long as to hear
them and me, for both together have brought us within the sight of the
Thatched House. And I must be your debtor, if you think it worth your
attention, for the rest of my promised discourse, till some other
opportunity, and a like time of leisure.
Venator. Sir, you have angled me on with much pleasure to the Thatched
House; and I now find your words true, "that good company makes the way
seem short"; for trust me, Sir, I thought we had wanted three miles of
this house, till you showed it to me. But now we are at it, we'll turn
into it, and refresh ourselves with a cup of drink, and a little rest.
Piscator. Most gladly, Sir, and we'll drink a civil cup to all the
Otter-hunters that are to meet you to-morrow.
Venator. That we will, Sir, and to all the lovers of Angling too, of
which number I am now willing to be one myself; for, by the help of your
good discourse and company, I have put on new thoughts both of the art
of Angling and of all that profess it; and if you will but meet me
to-morrow at the time and place appointed, and bestow one day with me
and my friends, in hunting the Otter, I will dedicate the next two days
to wait upon you; and we too will, for that time, do nothing but angle,
and talk of fish and fishing.
Piscator. It is a match, Sir, I will not fail you, God willing, to be at
Amwell Hill to-morrow morning before sun-rising.
The second day
On the Otter and the Chub
Chapter II
Piscator, Venator, Huntsman, and Hostess
Venator. My friend Piscator, you have kept time with my thoughts; for
the sun is just rising, and I myself just now come to this place, and
the dogs have just now put down an Otter. Look! down at the bottom of
the hill there, in that meadow, chequered with water-lilies and
lady-smocks; there you may see what work they make; look! look! you may
see all busy; men and dogs; dogs and men; all busy.
Piscator. Sir, I am right glad to meet you, and glad to have so fair an
entrance into this day's sport, and glad to see so many dogs, and more
men, all in pursuit of the Otter. Let us compliment no longer, but join
unto them. Come, honest Venator, let us be gone, let us make haste; I
long to be doing; no reasonable hedge or ditch shall hold me.
Venator. Gentleman Huntsman, where found you this Otter?
Huntsman. Marry, Sir, we found her a mile from this place, a-fishing. She
has this morning eaten the greatest part of this Trout; she has only
left thus much of it as you see, and was fishing for more; when we came
we found her just at it: but we were here very early, we were here an
hour before sunrise, and have given her no rest since we came; sure she
will hardly escape all these dogs and men. I am to have the skin if we
kill her.
Venator. Why, Sir, what is the skin worth?
Huntsman. It is worth ten shillings to make gloves; the gloves of an
Otter are the best fortification for your hands that can be thought on
against wet weather.
Piscator. I pray, honest Huntsman, let me ask you a pleasant question:
do you hunt a beast or a fish?
Huntsman. Sir, it is not in my power to resolve you; I leave it to be
resolved by the college of Carthusians, who have made vows never to eat
flesh. But, I have heard, the question hath been debated among many
great clerks, and they seem to differ about it; yet most agree that her
tail is fish: and if her body be fish too, then I may say that a fish
will walk upon land: for an Otter does so sometimes, five or six or ten
miles in a night, to catch for her young ones, or to glut herself with
fish. And I can tell you that Pigeons will fly forty miles for a
breakfast: but, Sir, I am sure the Otter devours much fish, and kills
and spoils much more than he eats. And I can tell you, that this
dog-fisher, for so the Latins call him, can smell a fish in the water a
hundred yards from him: Gesner says much farther: and that his stones
are good against the falling sickness; and that there is an herb,
Benione, which, being hung in a linen cloth near a fish-pond, or any
haunt that he uses, makes him to avoid the place; which proves he smells
both by water and land. And, I can tell you, there is brave hunting this
water-dog in Cornwall; where there have been so many, that our learned
Camden says there is a river called Ottersey, which was so named by
reason of the abundance of Otters that bred and fed in it.
And thus much for my knowledge of the Otter; which you may now see above
water at vent, and the dogs close with him; I now see he will not last
long. Follow, therefore, my masters, follow; for Sweetlips was like to
have him at this last vent.
Venator. Oh me! all the horse are got over the river, what shall we do
now? shall we follow them over the water?
Huntsman. No, Sir, no; be not so eager; stay a little, and follow me;
for both they and the dogs will be suddenly on this side again, I
warrant you, and the Otter too, it may be. Now have at him with Kilbuck,
for he vents again.
Venator. Marry! so he does; for, look! he vents in that corner. Now,
now, Ringwood has him: now, he is gone again, and has bit the poor dog.
Now Sweetlips has her; hold her, Sweetlips! now all the dogs have her;
some above and some under water: but, now, now she is tired, and past
losing. Come bring her to me, Sweetlips. Look! it is a Bitch-otter, and
she has lately whelp'd. Let's go to the place where she was put down;
and, not far from it, you will find all her young ones, I dare warrant
you, and kill them all too.
Huntsman. Come, Gentlemen! come, all! let's go to the place where we put
down the Otter. Look you! hereabout it was that she kennelled; look you!
here it was indeed; for here's her young ones, no less than five: come,
let us kill them all.
Piscator. No: I pray, Sir, save me one, and I'll try if I can make her
tame, as I know an ingenious gentleman in Leicestershire, Mr. Nich.
Segrave, has done; who hath not only made her tame, but to catch fish,
and do many other things of much pleasure.
Huntsman. Take one with all my heart; but let us kill the rest. And now
let's go to an honest ale-house, where we may have a cup of good barley
wine, and sing "Old Rose," and all of us rejoice together.
Venator. Come, my friend Piscator, let me invite you along with us. I'll
bear your charges this night, and you shall bear mine to-morrow; for my
intention is to accompany you a day or two in fishing.
Piscator. Sir, your request is granted; and I shall be right glad both
to exchange such a courtesy, and also to enjoy your company.
The third day
Venator. Well, now let's go to your sport of Angling.
Piscator. Let's be going, with all my heart. God keep you all,
Gentlemen; and send you meet, this day, with another Bitch-otter, and
kill her merrily, and all her young ones too.
Venator. NOW, Piscator, where will you begin to fish?
Piscator. We are not yet come to a likely place; I must walk a mile
further yet before I beam.
Venator. Well then, I pray, as we walk, tell me freely, how do you like
your lodging, and mine host and the company? Is not mine host a witty
man?
Piscator. Sir, I will tell you, presently, what I think of your host:
but, first, I will tell you, I am glad these Otters were killed; and I
am sorry there are no more Otter-killers; for I know that the want of
Otter-killers, and the not keeping the fence-months for the preservation
of fish, will, in time, prove the destruction of all rivers. And those
very few that are left, that make conscience of the laws of the nation,
and of keeping days of abstinence, will be forced to eat flesh, or
suffer more inconveniences than are yet foreseen.
Venator. Why, Sir, what be those that you call the fence-months?
Piscator. Sir, they be principally three, namely, March, April, and May:
for these be the usual months that Salmon come out of the sea to spawn
in most fresh rivers. And their fry would, about a certain time, return
back to the salt water, if they were not hindered by weirs and unlawful
gins, which the greedy fishermen set, and so destroy them by thousands;
as they would, being so taught by nature, change the fresh for salt
water. He that shall view the wise Statutes made in the 13th of Edward
the First, and the like in Richard the Second, may see several
provisions made against the destruction of fish: and though I profess no
knowledge of the law, yet I am sure the regulation of these defects
might be easily mended. But I remember that a wise friend of mine did
usually say, "that which is everybody's business is nobody's business":
if it were otherwise, there could not be so many nets and fish, that are
under the statute size, sold daily amongst us; and of which the
conservators of the waters should be ashamed.
But, above all, the taking fish in spawning-time may be said to be
against nature: it is like taking the dam on the nest when she hatches
her young, a sin so against nature, that Almighty God hath in the
Levitical law made a law against it.
But the poor fish have enemies enough besides such unnatural fishermen;
as namely, the Otters that I spake of, the Cormorant, the Bittern, the
Osprey, the Sea-gull, the Hern, the King-fisher, the Gorara, the Puet,
the Swan, Goose, Duck, and the Craber, which some call the Water-rat:
against all which any honest man may make a just quarrel, but I will
not; I will leave them to be quarrelled with and killed by others, for I
am not of a cruel nature, I love to kill nothing but fish.
And, now, to your question concerning your host. To speak truly, he is
not to me a good companion, for most of his conceits were either
scripture jests, or lascivious jests, for which I count no man witty:
for the devil will help a man, that way inclined, to the first; and his
own corrupt nature, which he always carries with him, to the latter. But
a companion that feasts the company with wit and mirth, and leaves out
the sin which is usually mixed with them, he is the man, and indeed such
a companion should have his charges borne; and to such company I hope to
bring you this night; for at Trout-hall, not far from this place, where
I purpose to lodge to-night, there is usually an Angler that proves good
company. And let me tell you, good company and good discourse are the
very sinews of virtue. But for such discourse as we heard last night, it
infects others: the very boys will learn to talk and swear, as they
heard mine host, and another of the company that shall be nameless. I am
sorry the other is a gentleman, for less religion will not save their
souls than a beggar's: I think more will be required at the last great
day. Well! you know what example is able to do; and I know what the poet
says in the like case, which is worthy to be noted by all parents and
people of civility:
....many a one
Owes to his country his religion;
And in another, would as strongly grow,
Had but his nurse or mother taught him so.
This is reason put into verse, and worthy the consideration of a wise
man. But of this no more; for though I love civility, yet I hate severe
censures. I'll to my own art; and I doubt not but at yonder tree I shall
catch a Chub: and then we'll turn to an honest cleanly hostess, that I
know right well; rest ourselves there; and dress it for our dinner.
Venator. Oh, Sir! a Chub is the worst fish that swims; I hoped for a
Trout to my dinner.
Piscator. Trust me, Sir, there is not a likely place for a Trout
hereabout: and we staid so long to take our leave of your huntsmen this
morning, that the sun is got so high, and shines so clear, that I will
not undertake the catching of a Trout till evening. And though a Chub
be, by you and many others, reckoned the worst of fish, yet you shall
see I'll make it a good fish by dressing it.
Venator. Why, how will you dress him?
Piscator. I'll tell you by-and-by, when I have caught him. Look you
here, Sir, do you see? but you must stand very close, there lie upon the
top of the water, in this very hole, twenty Chubs. I'll catch only one
and that shall be the biggest of them all: and that I will do so, I'll
hold you twenty to one, and you shall see it done.
Venator. Ay, marry! Sir, now you talk like an artist, and I'll say you
are one, when I shall see you perform what you say you can do: but I yet
doubt it.
Piscator. You shall not doubt it long; for you shall see me do it
presently. Look! the biggest of these Chubs has had some bruise upon his
tail, by a Pike or some other accident; and that looks like a white
spot. That very Chub I mean to put into your hands presently; sit you
but down in the shade, and stay but a little while; and I'll warrant
you, I'll bring him to you.
Venator. I'll sit down; and hope well, because you seem to be so
confident.
Piscator. Look you, Sir, there is a trial of my skill; there he is: that
very Chub, that I showed you, with the white spot on his tail. And I'll
be as certain to make him a good dish of meat as I was to catch him:
I'll now lead you to an honest ale-house, where we shall find a cleanly
room, lavender in the windows, and twenty ballads stuck about the wall.
There my hostess, which I may tell you is both cleanly, and handsome,
and civil, hath dressed many a one for me; and shall now dress it after
my fashion, and I warrant it good meat.
Venator. Come, Sir, with all my heart, for I begin to be hungry, and
long to be at it, and indeed to rest myself too; for though I have
walked but four miles this morning, yet I begin to be weary; yesterday's
hunting hangs still upon me.
Piscator. Well, Sir, and you shall quickly be at rest, for yonder is the
house I mean to bring you to.
Come, hostess, how do you? Will you first give us a cup of your best
drink, and then dress this Chub, as you dressed my last, when I and my
friend were here about eight or ten days ago? But you must do me one
courtesy, it must be done instantly.
Hostess. I will do it, Mr. Piscator, and with all the speed I can.
Piscator. NOW, Sir, has not my hostess made haste? and does not the fish
look lovely?
Venator. Both, upon my word, Sir; and therefore let's say grace and fall
to eating of it.
Piscator. Well, Sir, how do you like it?
Venator. Trust me, 'tis as good meat as I ever tasted. Now let me thank
you for it, drink to you and beg a courtesy of you; but it must not be
denied me.
Piscator. What is it, I pray, Sir? You are so modest, that methinks I may
promise to grant it before it is asked.
Venator. Why, Sir, it is, that from henceforth you would allow me to
call you Master, and that really I may be your scholar; for you are such
a companion, and have so quickly caught and so excellently cooked this
fish, as makes me ambitious to be your scholar.
Piscator. Give me your hand; from this time forward I will be your
Master, and teach you as much of this art as I am able; and will, as you
desire me, tell you somewhat of the nature of most of the fish that we
are to angle for, and I am sure I both can and will tell you more than
any common angler yet knows.
The third day-continued
How to fish for, and to dress, the Chavender of Chub
Chapter III
Piscator and Venator
Piscator. The Chub, though he eat well, thus dressed, yet as he is
usually dressed, he does not. He is objected against, not only for being
full of small forked bones, dispersed through all his body, but that he
eats waterish, and that the flesh of him is not firm, but short and
tasteless. The French esteem him so mean, as to call him Un Villain;
nevertheless he may be so dressed as to make him very good meat; as,
namely, if he be a large Chub, then dress him thus:
First, scale him, and then wash him clean, and then take out his guts;
and to that end make the hole as little, and near to his gills, as you
may conveniently, and especially make clean his throat from the grass
and weeds that are usually in it; for if that be not very clean, it will
make him to taste very sour. Having so done, put some sweet herbs into
his belly; and then tie him with two or three splinters to a spit, and
roast him, basted often with vinegar, or rather verjuice and butter,
with good store of salt mixed with it.
Being thus dressed, you will find him a much better dish of meat than
you, or most folk, even than anglers themselves, do imagine: for this
dries up the fluid watery humour with which all Chubs do abound. But
take this rule with you, That a Chub newly taken and newly dressed, is
so much better than a Chub of a day's keeping after he is dead, that I
can compare him to nothing so fitly as to cherries newly gathered from a
tree, and others that have been bruised and lain a day or two in water.
But the Chub being thus used, and dressed presently; and not washed
after he is gutted, for note, that lying long in water, and washing the
blood out of any fish after they be gutted, abates much of their
sweetness; you will find the Chub, being dressed in the blood, and
quickly, to be such meat as will recompense your labour, and disabuse
your opinion.
Or you may dress the Chavender or Chub thus:
When you have scaled him, and cut off his tail and fins, and washed him
very clean, then chine or slit him through the middle, as a salt-fish is
usually cut; then give him three or four cuts or scotches on the back
with your knife, and broil him on charcoal, or wood coal, that are free
from smoke; and all the time he is a-broiling, baste him with the best
sweet butter, and good store of salt mixed with it. And, to this, add a
little thyme cut exceedingly small, or bruised into the butter. The
Cheven thus dressed hath the watery taste taken away, for which so many
except against him. Thus was the Cheven dressed that you now liked so
well, and commended so much. But note again, that if this Chub that you
eat of had been kept till to-morrow, he had not been worth a rush. And
remember, that his throat be washed very clean, I say very clean, and
his body not washed after he is gutted, as indeed no fish should be.
Well, scholar, you see what pains I have taken to recover the lost
credit of the poor despised Chub. And now I will give you some rules how
to catch him: and I am glad to enter you into the art of fishing by
catching a Chub, for there is no fish better to enter a young Angler, he
is so easily caught, but then it must be this particular way:
Go to the same hole in which I caught my Chub, where, in most hot days,
you will find a dozen or twenty Chevens floating near the top of the
water. Get two or three grasshoppers, as you go over the meadow: and get
secretly behind the tree, and stand as free from motion as is possible.
Then put a grasshopper on your hook, and let your hook hang a quarter of
a yard short of the water, to which end you must rest your rod on some
bough of the tree. But it is likely the Chubs will sink down towards the
bottom of the water, at the first shadow of your rod (for Chub is the
fearfullest of fishes), and will do so if but a bird flies over him and
makes the least shadow on the water; but they will presently rise up to
the top again, and there lie soaring till some shadow affrights them
again. I say, when they lie upon the top of the water, look out the best
Chub, which you, setting yourself in a fit place, may very easily see,
and move your rod, as softly as a snail moves, to that Chub you intend
to catch; let your bait fall gently upon the water three or four inches
before him, and he will infallibly take the bait. And you will be as
sure to catch him; for he is one of the leather-mouthed fishes, of which
a hook does scarce ever lose its hold; and therefore give him play
enough before you offer to take him out of the water. Go your way
presently; take my rod, and do as I bid you; and I will sit down and
mend my tackling till you return back.
Venator. Truly, my loving master, you have offered me as fair as I could
wish. I'll go and observe your directions.
Look you, master, what I have done, that which joys my heart, caught
just such another Chub as yours was.
Piscator. Marry, and I am glad of it: I am like to have a towardly
scholar of you. I now see, that with advice and practice, you will make
an Angler in a short time. Have but a love to it; and I'll warrant you.
Venator. But, master! what if I could not have found a grasshopper?
Piscator. Then I may tell you, That a black snail, with his belly slit,
to show his white, or a piece of soft cheese, will usually do as well.
Nay, sometimes a worm, or any kind of fly, as the ant-fly, the
flesh-fly, or wall-fly; or the dor or beetle which you may find under
cow-dung; or a bob which you will find in the same place, and in time
will be a beetle; it is a short white worm, like to and bigger than a
gentle; or a cod-worm; or a case-worm; any of these will do very well to
fish in such a manner.
And after this manner you may catch a Trout in a hot evening: when, as
you walk by a brook, and shall see or hear him leap at flies, then, if
you get a grasshopper, put it on your hook, with your line about two
yards long; standing behind a bush or tree where his hole is: and make
your bait stir up and down on the top of the water. You may, if you
stand close, be sure of a bite, but not sure to catch him, for he is not
a leather-mouthed fish. And after this manner you may fish for him with
almost any kind of live fly, but especially with a grasshopper.
Venator. But before you go further, I pray, good master, what mean you
by a leather-mouthed fish?
Piscator. By a leather-mouthed fish, I mean such as have their teeth in
their throat, as the Chub or Cheven: and so the Barbel, the Gudgeon, and
Carp, and divers others have. And the hook being stuck into the leather,
or skin, of the mouth of such fish, does very seldom or never lose its
hold: but on the contrary, a Pike, a Perch, or Trout, and so some other
fish, which have not their teeth in their throats, but in their mouths,
which you shall observe to be very full of bones, and the skin very
thin, and little of it. I say, of these fish the hook never takes so
sure hold but you often lose your fish, unless he have gorged it.
Venator. I thank you, good master, for this observation. But now what
shall be done with my Chub or Cheven that I have caught?
Piscator. Marry, Sir, it shall be given away to some poor body; for I'll
warrant you I'll give you a Trout for your supper: and it is a good
beginning of your art to offer your first-fruits to the poor, who will
both thank you and God for it, which I see by your silence you seem to
consent to. And for your willingness to part with it so charitably, I
will also teach more concerning Chub-fishing. You are to note, that in
March and April he is usually taken with worms; in May, June, and July,
he will bite at any fly, or at cherries, or at beetles with their legs
and wings cut off, or at any kind of snail, or at the black bee that
breeds in clay walls. And he never refuses a grasshopper, on the top of
a swift stream, nor, at the bottom, the young humble bee that breeds in
long grass, and is ordinarily found by the mower of it. In August, and
in the cooler months, a yellow paste, made of the strongest cheese, and
pounded in a mortar, with a little butter and saffron, so much of it as,
being beaten small, will turn it to a lemon colour. And some make a
paste for the winter months, at which time the Chub is accounted best,
for then it is observed, that the forked bones are lost, or turned into
a kind of gristle, especially if he be baked, of cheese and turpentine.
He will bite also at a minnow, or peek, as a Trout will: of which I
shall tell you more hereafter, and of divers other baits. But take this
for a rule, that, in hot weather, he is to be fished for towards the
mid-water, or near the top; and in colder weather, nearer the bottom;
and if you fish for him on the top, with a beetle, or any fly, then be
sure to let your line be very long, and to keep out of sight. And having
told you, that his spawn is excellent meat, and that the head of a large
Cheven, the throat being well washed, is the best part of him, I will
say no more of this fish at the present, but wish you may catch the next
you fish for.
But, lest you may judge me too nice in urging to have the Chub dressed
so presently after he is taken, I will commend to your consideration how
curious former times have been in the like kind.
You shall read in Seneca, his Natural Questions, that the ancients were
so curious in the newness of their fish, that that seemed not new enough
that was not put alive into the guest's hand; and he says, that to that
end they did usually keep them living in glass bottles in their
dining-rooms, and they did glory much in their entertaining of friends,
to have that fish taken from under their table alive that was instantly
to be fed upon; and he says, they took great pleasure to see their
Mullets change to several colours when they were dying. But enough of
this; for I doubt I have staid too long from giving you some
Observations of the Trout, and how to fish for him, which shall take up
the next of my spare time.
The third day-continued
On the Nature and Breeding of the Trout, and how to fish for him
Chapter IV
Piscator, Venator, Milk-woman, Maudlin, Hostess
Piscator. The Trout is a fish highly valued, both in this and foreign
nations. He may be justly said, as the old poet said of wine, and we
English say of venison, to be a generous fish: a fish that is so like
the buck, that he also has his seasons; for it is observed, that he
comes in and goes out of season with the stag and buck. Gesner says, his
name is of a German offspring; and says he is a fish that feeds clean
and purely, in the swiftest streams, and on the hardest gravel; and that
he may justly contend with all fresh water fish, as the Mullet may with
all sea fish, for precedency and daintiness of taste; and that being in
right season, the most dainty palates have allowed precedency to him.
And before I go farther in my discourse, let me tell you, that you are
to observe, that as there be some barren does that are good in summer,
so there be some barren Trouts that are good in winter; but there are
not many that are so; for usually they be in their perfection in the
month of May, and decline with the buck. Now you are to take notice,
that in several countries, as in Germany, and in other parts, compared
to ours, fish do differ much in their bigness, and shape, and other
ways; and so do Trouts. It is well known that in the Lake Leman, the
Lake of Geneva, there are Trouts taken of three cubits long; as is
affirmed by Gesner, a writer of good credit: and Mercator says, the
Trouts that are taken in the Lake of Geneva are a great part of the
merchandize of that famous city. And you are further to know, that there
be certain waters that breed Trouts remarkable, both for their number
and smallness. I know a little brook in Kent, that breeds them to a
number incredible, and you may take them twenty or forty in an hour, but
none greater than about the size of a Gudgeon. There are also, in divers
rivers, especially that relate to, or be near to the sea, as Winchester,
or the Thames about Windsor, a little Trout called a Samlet, or Skegger
Trout, in both which places I have caught twenty or forty at a standing,
that will bite as fast and as freely as Minnows: these be by some taken
to be young Salmons; but in those waters they never grow to be bigger
than a Herring.
There is also in Kent, near to Canterbury, a Trout called there a
Fordidge Trout, a Trout that bears the name of the town where it is
usually caught, that is accounted the rarest of fish; many of them near
the bigness of a Salmon, but known by their different colour; and in
their best season they cut very white: and none of these have been known
to be caught with an angle, unless it were one that was caught by Sir
George Hastings, an excellent angler, and now with God: and he hath told
me, he thought that Trout bit not for hunger but wantonness; and it is
the rather to be believed, because both he, then, and many others before
him, have been curious to search into their bellies, what the food was
by which they lived; and have found out nothing by which they might
satisfy their curiosity.
Concerning which you are to take notice, that it is reported by good
authors, that grasshoppers and some fish have no mouths, but are
nourished and take breath by the porousness of their gills, man knows
not how: and this may be believed, if we consider that when the raven
hath hatched her eggs, she takes no further care, but leaves her young
ones to the care of the God of nature, who is said, in the Psalms, "to
feed the young ravens that call upon him ". And they be kept alive and
fed by a dew; or worms that breed in their nests; or some other ways
that we mortals know not. And this may be believed of the Fordidge
Trout, which, as it is said of the stork, that he knows his season, so
he knows his times, I think almost his day of coming into that river out
of the sea; where he lives, and, it is like, feeds, nine months of the
year, and fasts three in the river of Fordidge. And you are to note,
that those townsmen are very punctual in observing the time of beginning
to fish for them; and boast much, that their river affords a Trout that
exceeds all others. And just so does Sussex boast of several fish; as,
namely, a Shelsey Cockle, a Chichester Lobster, an Arundel Mullet, and
an Amerly Trout.
And, now, for some confirmation of the Fordidge Trout: you are to know
that this Trout is thought to eat nothing in the fresh water; and it may
be the better believed, because it is well known, that swallows, and
bats, and wagtails, which are called half-year birds, and not seen to
fly in England for six months in the year, but about Michaelmas leave us
for a hotter climate, yet some of them that have been left behind their
fellows, have been found, many thousands at a time, in hollow trees, or
clay caves, where they have been observed to live, and sleep out the
whole winter, without meat. And so Albertus observes, that there is one
kind of frog that hath her mouth naturally shut up about the end of
August, and that she lives so all the winter: and though it be strange
to some, yet it is known to too many among us to be doubted.
And so much for these Fordidge Trouts, which never afford an angler
sport, but either live their time of being in the fresh water, by their
meat formerly gotten in the sea, not unlike the swallow or frog, or, by
the virtue of the fresh water only; or, as the birds of Paradise and the
cameleon are said to live, by the sun and the air.
There is also in Northumberland a Trout called a Bull-trout, of a much
greater length and bigness than any in these southern parts; and there
are, in many rivers that relate to the sea, Salmon-trouts, as much
different from others, both in shape and in their spots, as we see sheep
in some countries differ one from another in their shape and bigness,
and in the fineness of the wool: and, certainly, as some pastures breed
larger sheep; so do some rivers, by reason of the ground over which they
run, breed larger Trouts.
Now the next thing that I will commend to your consideration is, that
the Trout is of a more sudden growth than other fish. Concerning which,
you are also to take notice, that he lives not so long as the Pearch,
and divers other fishes do, as Sir Francis Bacon hath observed in his
History of Life and Death.
And next you are to take notice, that he is not like the Crocodile,
which if he lives never so long, yet always thrives till his death: but
'tis not so with the Trout; for after he is come to his full growth, he
declines in his body, and keeps his bigness, or thrives only in his head
till his death. And you are to know, that he will, about, especially
before, the time of his spawning, get, almost miraculously, through
weirs and flood-gates, against the stream; even through such high and
swift places as is almost incredible. Next, that the Trout usually
spawns about October or November, but in some rivers a little sooner or
later; which is the more observable, because most other fish spawn in
the spring or summer, when the sun hath warmed both the earth and water,
and made it fit for generation. And you are to note, that he continues
many months out of season; for it may be observed of the Trout, that he
is like the Buck or the Ox, that will not be fat in many months, though
he go in the very same pastures that horses do, which will be fat in one
month: and so you may observe, That most other fishes recover strength,
and grow sooner fat and in season than the Trout doth.
And next you are to note, That till the sun gets to such a height as to
warm the earth and the water, the Trout is sick, and lean, and lousy,
and unwholesome; for you shall, in winter, find him to have a big head,
and, then, to be lank and thin and lean; at which time many of them have
sticking on them Sugs, or Trout-lice; which is a kind of a worm, in
shape like a clove, or pin with a big head, and sticks close to him, and
sucks his moisture, those, I think, the Trout breeds himself: and never
thrives till he free himself from them, which is when warm weather
comes; and, then, as he grows stronger, he gets from the dead still
water into the sharp streams and the gravel, and, there, rubs off these
worms or lice; and then, as he grows stronger, so he gets him into
swifter and swifter streams, and there lies at the watch for any fly or
minnow that comes near to him; and he especially loves the May-fly,
which is bred of the cod-worm, or cadis; and these make the Trout bold
and lusty, and he is usually fatter and better meat at the end of that
month than at any time of the year.
Now you are to know that it is observed, that usually the best Trouts
are either red or yellow; though some, as the Fordidge Trout, be white
and yet good; but that is not usual: and it is a note observable, that
the female Trout hath usually a less head, and a deeper body than the
male Trout, and is usually the better meat. And note, that a hog back
and a little head, to either Trout, Salmon or any other fish, is a sign
that that fish is in season.
But yet you are to note, that as you see some willows or palm-trees bud
and blossom sooner than others do, so some Trouts be, in rivers, sooner
in season: and as some hollies, or oaks, are longer before they cast
their leaves, so are some Trouts, in rivers, longer before they go out
of season.
And you are to note, that there are several kinds of Trouts: but these
several kinds are not considered but by very few men; for they go under
the general name of Trouts; just as pigeons do, in most places; though
it is certain, there are tame and wild pigeons; and of the tame, there
be hermits and runts, and carriers and cropers, and indeed too many to
name. Nay, the Royal Society have found and published lately, that there
be thirty and three kinds of spiders; and yet all, for aught I know, go
under that one general name of spider. And it is so with many kinds of
fish, and of Trouts especially; which differ in their bigness, and
shape, and spots, and colour. The great Kentish hens may be an instance,
compared to other hens: and, doubtless, there is a kind of small Trout,
which will never thrive to be big; that breeds very many more than
others do, that be of a larger size: which you may rasher believe, if
you consider that the little wren and titmouse will have twenty young
ones at a time, when, usually, the noble hawk, or the musical thrassel
or blackbird, exceed not four or five.
And now you shall see me try my skill to catch a Trout; and at my next
walking, either this evening or to-morrow morning, I will give you
direction how you yourself shall fish for him.
Venator. Trust me, master, I see now it is a harder matter to catch a
Trout than a Chub; for I have put on patience, and followed you these
two hours, and not seen a fish stir, neither at your minnow nor your
worm.
Piscator. Well, scholar, you must endure worse luck sometime, or you
will never make a good angler. But what say you now? there is a Trout
now, and a good one too, if I can but hold him; and two or three turns
more will tire him. Now you see he lies still, and the sleight is to
land him: reach me that landing-net. So, Sir, now he is mine own: what
say you now, is not this worth all my labour and your patience?
Venator. On my word, master, this is a gallant Trout; what shall we do
with him?
Piscator. Marry, e'en eat him to supper: we'll go to my hostess from
whence we came; she told me, as I was going out of door, that my brother
Peter, a good angler and a cheerful companion, had sent word he would
lodge there to-night, and bring a friend with him. My hostess has two
beds, and I know you and I may have the best: we'll rejoice with my
brother Peter and his friend, tell tales, or sing ballads, or make a
catch, or find some harmless sport to content us, and pass away a little
time without offence to God or man.
Venator. A match, good master, let's go to that house, for the linen
looks white, and smells of lavender, and I long to lie in a pair of
sheets that smell so. Let's be going, good master, for I am hungry again
with fishing.
Piscator. Nay, stay a little, good scholar. I caught my last Trout with
a worm; now I will put on a minnow, and try a quarter of an hour about
yonder trees for another; and, so, walk towards our lodging. Look you,
scholar, thereabout we shall have a bite presently, or not at all. Have
with you, Sir: o' my word I have hold of him. Oh! it is a great
logger-headed Chub; come, hang him upon that willow twig, and let's be
going. But turn out of the way a little, good scholar! toward yonder
high honeysuckle hedge; there we'll sit and sing whilst this shower
falls so gently upon the teeming earth, and gives yet a sweeter smell to
the lovely flowers that adorn these verdant meadows.
Look! under that broad beech-tree I sat down, when I was last this way
a-fishing; and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a
friendly contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a
hollow tree near to the brow of that primrose-hill. There I sat viewing
the silver streams glide silently towards their centre, the tempestuous
sea; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots and pebble-stones, which
broke their waves, and turned them into foam; and sometimes I beguiled
time by viewing the harmless lambs; some leaping securely in the cool
shade, whilst others sported themselves in the cheerful sun; and saw
others craving comfort from the swollen udders of their bleating dams.
As I thus sat, these and other sights had so fully possess my soul with
content, that I thought, as the poet has happily express it,
I was for that time lifted above earth,
And possest joys not promis'd in my birth.
As I left this place, and entered into the next field, a second pleasure
entertained me; 'twas a handsome milk-maid, that had not yet attained so
much age and wisdom as to load her mind with any fears of many things
that will never be, as too many men too often do; but she cast away all
care, and sung like a nightingale. Her voice was good, and the ditty
fitted for it; it was that smooth song which was made by Kit Marlow, now
at least fifty years ago; and the milk-maid's mother sung an answer to
it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh, in his younger days. They were
old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good; I think much better than the
strong lines that are now in fashion in this critical age. Look yonder!
on my word, yonder, they both be a-milking again. I will give her the
Chub, and persuade them to sing those two songs to us.
God speed you, good woman! I have been a-fishing; and am going to Bleak
Hall to my bed; and having caught more fish than will sup myself and my
friend, I will bestow this upon you and your daughter, for I use to sell
none.
Milk-woman. Marry! God requite you, Sir, and we'll eat it cheerfully.
And if you come this way a-fishing two months hence, a grace of God!
I'll give you a syllabub of new verjuice, in a new-made hay-cock, for
it. And my Maudlin shall sing you one of her best ballads; for she and I
both love all anglers, they be such honest, civil, quiet men. In the
meantime will you drink a draught of red cow's milk? you shall have it
freely.
Piscator. No, I thank you; but, I pray, do us a courtesy that shall
stand you and your daughter in nothing, and yet we will think ourselves
still something in your debt: it is but to sing us a song that was sung
by your daughter when I last passed over this meadow, about eight or
nine days since.
Milk-woman. What song was it, I pray? Was it, "Come, Shepherds, deck
your herds "? or, "As at noon Dulcina rested"? or, "Phillida flouts
me"? or, "Chevy Chace"? or, "Johnny Armstrong"? or, "Troy Town"?
Piscator. No, it is none of those; it is a Song that your daughter sung
the first part, and you sung the answer to it.
Milk-woman. O, I know it now. I learned the first part in my golden age,
when I was about the age of my poor daughter; and the latter part, which
indeed fits me best now, but two or three years ago, when the cares of
the world began to take hold of me: but you shall, God willing, hear
them both; and sung as well as we can, for we both love anglers. Come,
Maudlin, sing the first part to the gentlemen, with a merry heart; and
I'll sing the second when you have done.
The Milk-maid's song.
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, or hills, or fields,
Or woods, and steepy mountains yields;
Where we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed our flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses;
And, then, a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull
Slippers, lin'd choicely for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy-buds,
With coral clasps, and amber studs.
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come, live with me, and be my love,
Thy silver dishes, for thy meat
As precious as the Gods do eat
Shall, on an ivory table, be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight, each May morning.
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
Venator. Trust me, master, it is a choice song, and sweetly sung by
honest Maudlin. I now see it was not without cause that our good queen
Elizabeth did so often wish herself a milk-maid all the month of May,
because they are not troubled with fears and cares, but sing sweetly all
the day, and sleep securely all the night: and without doubt, honest,
innocent, pretty Maudlin does so. I'll bestow Sir Thomas Overbury's
milk-maid's wish upon her, "that she may die in the Spring; and, being
dead, may have good store of flowers stuck round about her
winding-sheet".
The Milk-maid's mother's answer
If all the world and love were young
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold.
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold
Then Philomel becometh dumb
And age complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields.
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten;
In folly rise, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps, and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy love.
What should we talk of dainties, then,
Of better meat than's fit for men?
These are but vain: that's only good
Which God hath blessed and sent for food.
But could youth last, and love still breed;
Had joys no date, nor age no need;
Then those delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Mother. Well! I have done my song. But stay, honest anglers; for I will
make Maudlin sing you one short song more. Maudlin! sing that song that
you sung last night, when young Coridon the shepherd played so purely on
his oaten pipe to you and your cousin Betty.
Maudlin. I will, mother.
I married a wife of late,
The more's my unhappy fate:
I married her for love,
As my fancy did me move,
And not for a worldly estate:
But oh! the green sickness
Soon changed her likeness;
And all her beauty did fail.
But 'tis not so
With those that go
Thro'frost and snow
As all men know,
And carry the milking-pail.
Piscator. Well sung, good woman; I thank you. I'll give you another dish
of fish one of these days; and then beg another song of you. Come,
scholar! let Maudlin alone: do not you offer to spoil her voice. Look!
yonder comes mine hostess, to call us to supper. How now! is my brother
Peter come?
Hostess. Yes, and a friend with him. They are both glad to hear that you
are in these parts; and long to see you; and long to be at supper, for
they be very hungry.
The third day-continued
On the Trout
Chapter V
Piscator, Peter, Venator, Coridon
Piscator. Well met, brother Peter! I heard you and a friend would lodge
here to-night; and that hath made me to bring my friend to lodge here
too. My friend is one that would fain be a brother of the angle: he hath
been an angler but this day; and I have taught him how to catch a Chub,
by dapping with a grasshopper; and the Chub he caught was a lusty one of
nineteen inches long. But pray, brother Peter, who is your companion?
Peter. Brother Piscator, my friend is an honest countryman, and his name
is Coridon; and he is a downright witty companion, that met me here
purposely to be pleasant and eat a Trout; and I have not yet wetted my
line since we met together: but I hope to fit him with a Trout for his
breakfast; for I'll be early up.
Piscator. Nay, brother, you shall not stay so long; for, look you! here
is a Trout will fill six reasonable bellies.
Come, hostess, dress it presently; and get us what other meat the house
will afford; and give us some of your best barley-wine, the good liquor
that our honest forefathers did use to think of; the drink which
preserved their health, and made them live so long, and to do so many
good deeds.
Peter. On my word, this Trout is perfect in season. Come, I thank you,
and here is a hearty draught to you, and to all the brothers of the
angle wheresoever they be, and to my young brother's good fortune
to-morrow. I will furnish him with a rod, if you will furnish him with
the rest of the tackling: we will set him up, and make him a fisher. And
I will tell him one thing for his encouragement, that his fortune hath
made him happy to be scholar to such a master; a master that knows as
much, both of the nature and breeding of fish, as any man; and can also
tell him as well how to catch and cook them, from the Minnow to the
Salmon, as any that I ever met withal.
Piscator. Trust me, brother Peter, I find my scholar to be so suitable
to my own humour, which is to be free and pleasant and civilly merry,
that my resolution is to hide nothing that I know from him. Believe me,
scholar, this is my resolution; and so here's to you a hearty draught,
and to all that love us and the honest art of Angling.
Venator. Trust me, good master, you shall not sow your seed in barren
ground; for I hope to return you an increase answerable to your hopes:
but, however, you shall find me obedient, and thankful, and serviceable
to my best ability.
Piscator. 'Tis enough, honest scholar! come, let's to supper. Come, my
friend Coridon, this Trout looks lovely; it was twenty-two inches when
it was taken; and the belly of it looked, some part of it, as yellow as
a marigold, and part of it as white as a lily; and yet, methinks, it
looks better in this good sauce.
Coridon. Indeed, honest friend, it looks well, and tastes well: I thank
you for it, and so doth my friend Peter, or else he is to blame.
Peter. Yes, and so I do; we all thank you: and, when we have supped, I
will get my friend Coridon to sing you a song for requital.
Coridon. I will sing a song, if anybody will sing another, else, to be
plain with you, I will sing none. I am none of those that sing for meat,
but for company: I say,
'"Tis merry in hall, When men sing all."
Piscator. I'll promise you I'll sing a song that was lately made, at my
request, by Mr. William Basse; one that hath made the choice songs of
the "Hunter in his Career," and of "Tom of Bedlam," and many others of
note; and this, that I will sing, is in praise of Angling.
Coridon. And then mine shall be the praise of a Countryman's life. What
will the rest sing of?
Peter. I will promise you, I will sing another song in praise of Angling
to-morrow night; for we will not part till then; but fish to-morrow, and
sup together: and the next day every man leave fishing, and fall to his
business.
Venator. Tis a match; and I will provide you a song or a catch against
then, too, which shall give some addition of mirth to the company; for
we will be civil and as merry as beggars.
Piscator. Tis a match, my masters. Let's e'en say grace, and turn to the
fire, drink the other cup to whet our whistles, and so sing away all sad
thoughts. Come on, my masters, who begins? I think it is best to draw
cuts, and avoid contention.
Peter. It is a match. Look, the shortest cut falls to Coridon.
Coridon. Well, then, I will begin, for I hate contention
Coridon's song.
Oh the sweet contentment
The countryman doth find!
Heigh trolollie lollie foe,
Heigh trolollie lee.
That quiet contemplation
Possesseth all my mind:
Then care away
And wend along with me.
For Courts are full of flattery,
As hath too oft been tried
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.,
The city full of wantonness,
And both are full of pride:
Then care away, etc.
But oh, the honest countryman
Speaks truly from his heart
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.
His pride is in his tillage,
His horses, and his cart:
Then care away, etc.
Our cloathing is good sheep-skins
Grey russet for our wives
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, etc.
'Tis warmth and not gay cloathing
That doth prolong our lives:
Then care away, etc.
The ploughman, tho' he labour hard,
Yet on the holy-day
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.
No emperor so merrily
Does pass his time away:
Then care away, etc.
To recompense our tillage,
The heavens afford us showers
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.
And for our sweet refreshment.
The earth affords us bowers:
Then care away, etc.
The cuckow and the nightingale
Full merrily do sing,
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.
And with their pleasant roundelays
Bid welcome to the spring:
Then care away, etc.
This is not half the happiness
The countryman enjoys
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.,
Though others think they have as much,
Yet he that says so lies:
Then come away,
Turn countrymen with me.
Jo. Chalkhill.
Piscator. Well sung, Coridon, this song was sung with mettle; and it was
choicely fitted to the occasion: I shall love you for it as long as I
know you. I would you were a brother of the angle; for a companion that
is cheerful, and free from swearing and scurrilous discourse, is worth
gold. I love such mirth as does not make friends ashamed to look upon
one another next morning; nor men, that cannot well bear it, to repent
the money they spend when they be warmed with drink. And take this for a
rule: you may pick out such times and such companies, that you make
yourselves merrier for a little than a great deal of money; for "'Tis
the company and not the charge that makes the feast"; and such a
companion you prove: I thank you for it.
But I will not compliment you out of the debt that I owe you, and
therefore I will begin my song, and wish it may be so well liked.
The Angler's song.
As inward love breeds outward talk
The hound some praise, and some the hawk
Some, better pleas'd with private sport
Use tennis, some a mistress court:
But these delights I neither wish
Nor envy, while I freely fish.
Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride;
Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide
Who uses games shall often prove
A loser, but who falls in love,
Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare:
My angle breeds me no such care.
Of recreation there is none
So free as fishing is alone;
All other pastimes do no less
Than mind and body both possess:
My hand alone my work can do,
So I can fish and study too.
I care not, I, to fish in seas,
Fresh rivers best my mind do please,
Whose sweet calm course I contemplate,
And seek in life to imitate:
In civil bounds I fain would keep,
And for my past offences weep.
And when the timorous Trout I wait
To take, and he devours my bait,
How poor a thing, sometimes I find,
Will captivate a greedy mind:
And when none bite, I praise the wise
Whom vain allurements ne'er surprise.
But yet, though while I fish, I fast,
I make good fortune my repast;
And thereunto my friend invite,
In whom I more than that delight:
Who is more welcome to my dish
Than to my angle was my fish.
As well content no prize to take,
As use of taken prize to make:
For so our Lord was pleased, when
He fishers made fishers of men;
Where, which is in no other game,
A man may fish and praise his name.
The first men that our Saviour dear
Did choose to wait upon him here,
Blest fishers were, and fish the last
Food was that he on earth did taste:
I therefore strive to follow those
Whom he to follow him hath chose.
W. B.
Coridon. Well sung, brother, you have paid your debt in good coin. We
anglers are all beholden to the good man that made this song: come,
hostess, give us more ale, and let's drink to him. And now let's every
one go to bed, that we may rise early: but first let's pay our
reckoning, for I will have nothing to hinder me in the morning; for my
purpose is to prevent the sun-rising.
Peter. A match. Come, Coridon, you are to be my bed-fellow. I know,
brother, you and your scholar will lie together. But where shall we meet
to-morrow night? for my friend Coridon and I will go up the water
towards Ware.
Piscator. And my scholar and I will go down towards Waltham.
Coridon. Then let's meet here, for here are fresh sheets that smell of
lavender; and I am sure we cannot expect better meat, or better usage in
any place.
Peter. 'Tis a match. Good-night to everybody.
Piscator. And so say I.
Venator. And so say I.
The fourth day
Piscator. Good-morrow, good hostess, I see my brother Peter is still in
bed. Come, give my scholar and me a morning drink, and a bit of meat to
breakfast: and be sure to get a dish of meat or two against supper, for
we shall come home as hungry as hawks. Come, scholar, let's be going.
Venator. Well now, good master, as we walk towards the river, give me
direction, according to your promise, how I shall fish for a Trout.
Piscator. My honest scholar, I will take this very convenient
opportunity to do it.
The Trout is usually caught with a worm, or a minnow, which some call a
peek, or with a fly, viz. either a natural or an artificial fly:
concerning which three, I will give you some observations and
directions.
And, first, for worms. Of these there be very many sorts: some breed
only in the earth, as the earth-worm; others of, or amongst plants, as
the dug-worm; and others breed either out of excrements, or in the
bodies of living creatures, as in the horns of sheep or deer; or some of
dead flesh, as the maggot or gentle, and others.
Now these be most of them particularly good for particular fishes. But
for the Trout, the dew-worm, which some also call the lob-worm, and the
brandling, are the chief; and especially the first for a great Trout,
and the latter for a less. There be also of lob-worms, some called
squirrel-tails, a worm that has a red head, a streak down the back, and
a broad tail, which are noted to be the best, because they are the
toughest and most lively, and live longest in the water; for you are to
know that a dead worm is but a dead bait, and like to catch nothing,
compared to a lively, quick, stirring worm. And for a brandling, he is
usually found in an old dunghill, or some very rotten place near to it,
but most usually in cow-dung, or hog's-dung, rather than horse-dung,
which is somewhat too hot and dry for that worm. But the best of them
are to be found in the bark of the tanners, which they cast up in heaps
after they have used it about their leather.
There are also divers other kinds of worms, which, for colour and shape,
alter even as the ground out of which they are got; as the marsh-worm,
the tag-tail, the flag-worm, the dock-worm, the oak-worm, the gilt-tail,
the twachel or lob-worm, which of all others is the most excellent bait
for a salmon, and too many to name, even as many sorts as some think
there be of several herbs or shrubs, or of several kinds of birds in the
air: of which I shall say no more, but tell you, that what worms soever
you fish with, are the better for being well scoured, that is, long kept
before they be used: and in case you have not been so provident, then
the way to cleanse and scour them quickly, is, to put them all night in
water, if they be lob-worms, and then put them into your bag with
fennel. But you must not put your brandlings above an hour in water, and
then put them into fennel, for sudden use: but if you have time, and
purpose to keep them long, then they be best preserved in an earthen
pot, with good store of moss, which is to be fresh every three or four
days in summer, and every week or eight days in winter; or, at least,
the moss taken from them, and clean washed, and wrung betwixt your hands
till it be dry, and then put it to them again. And when your worms,
especially the brandling, begins to be sick and lose of his bigness,
then you may recover him, by putting a little milk or cream, about a
spoonful in a day, into them, by drops on the moss; and if there be
added to the cream an egg beaten and boiled in it, then it will both
fatten and preserve them long. And note, that when the knot, which is
near to the middle of the brandling, begins to swell, then he is sick;
and, if he be not well looked to, is near dying. And for moss, you are
to note, that there be divers kinds of it, which I could name to you,
but I will only tell you that that which is likest a buck's-horn is the
best, except it be soft white moss, which grows on some heaths, and is
hard to be found. And note, that in a very dry time, when you are put to
an extremity for worms, walnut-tree leaves squeezed into water, or salt
in water, to make it bitter or salt, and then that water poured on the
ground where you shall see worms are used to rise in the night, will
make them to appear above ground presently. And you may take notice,
some say that camphire put into your bag with your moss and worms gives
them a strong and so tempting a smell, that the fish fare the worse and
you the better for it.
And now, I shall shew you how to bait your hook with a worm so as shall
prevent you from much trouble, and the loss of many a hook, too, when
you fish for a Trout with a running line; that is to say, when you fish
for him by hand at the ground. I will direct you in this as plainly as I
can, that you may not mistake.
Suppose it be a big lob-worm: put your hook into him somewhat above the
middle, and out again a little below the middle: having so done, draw
your worm above the arming of your hook; but note, that, at the entering
of your hook, it must not be at the head-end of the worm, but at the
tail-end of him, that the point of your hook may come out toward the
head-end; and, having drawn him above the arming of your hook, then put
the point of your hook again into the very head of the worm, till it
come near to the place where the point of the hook first came out, and
then draw back that part of the worm that was above the shank or arming
of your hook, and so fish with it. And if you mean to fish with two
worms, then put the second on before you turn back the hook's-head of
the first worm. You cannot lose above two or three worms before you
attain to what I direct you; and having attained it, you will find it
very useful, and thank me for it: for you will run on the ground without
tangling.
Now for the Minnow or Penk: he is not easily found and caught till
March, or in April, for then he appears first in the river; nature
having taught him to shelter and hide himself, in the winter, in ditches
that be near to the river; and there both to hide, and keep himself
warm, in the mud, or in the weeds, which rot not so soon as in a running
river, in which place if he were in winter, the distempered floods that
are usually in that season would suffer him to take no rest, but carry
him headlong to mills and weirs, to his confusion. And of these Minnows:
first, you are to know, that the biggest size is not the best; and next,
that the middle size and the whitest are the best; and then you are to
know, that your minnow must be so put on your hook, that it must turn
round when 'tis drawn against the stream; and, that it may turn nimbly,
you must put it on a big-sized hook, as I shall now direct you, which is
thus: Put your hook in at his mouth, and out at his gill; then, having
drawn your hook two or three inches beyond or through his gill, put it
again into his mouth, and the point and beard out at his tail; and then
tie the hook and his tail about, very neatly, with a white thread, which
will make it the apter to turn quick in the water; that done, pull back
that part of your line which was slack when you did put your hook into
the minnow the second time; I say, pull that part of your line back, so
that it shall fasten the head, so that the body of the minnow shall be
almost straight on your hook: this done, try how it will turn, by
drawing it across the water or against a stream; and if it do not turn
nimbly, then turn the tail a little to the right or left hand, and try
again, till it turn quick; for if not, you are in danger to catch
nothing: for know, that it is impossible that it should turn too quick.
And you are yet to know, that in case you want a minnow, then a small
loach, or a stickle-bag, or any other small fish that will turn quick,
will serve as well. And you are yet to know that you may salt them, and
by that means keep them ready and fit for use three or four days, or
longer; and that, of salt, bay-salt is the best.
And here let me tell you, what many old anglers know right well, that at
some times, and in some waters, a minnow is not to be got; and
therefore, let me tell you, I have, which I will shew to you, an
artificial minnow, that will catch a Trout as well as an artificial fly:
and it was made by a handsome woman that had a fine hand, and a live
minnow lying by her: the mould or body of the minnow was cloth, and
wrought upon, or over it, thus, with a needle; the back of it with very
sad French green silk, and paler green silk towards the belly, shadowed
as perfectly as you can imagine, just as you see a minnow: the belly was
wrought also with a needle, and it was, a part of it, white silk; and
another part of it with silver thread: the tail and fins were of a
quill, which was shaven thin: the eyes were of two little black beads:
and the head was so shadowed, and all of it so curiously wrought, and so
exactly dissembled, that it would beguile any sharp-sighted Trout in a
swift stream. And this minnow I will now shew you; look, here it is,
and, if you like it, lend it you, to have two or three made by it; for
they be easily carried about an angler, and be of excellent use: for
note, that a large Trout will come as fiercely at a minnow as the
highest-mettled hawk doth seize on a partridge, or a greyhound on a
hare. I have been told that one hundred and sixty minnows have been
found in a Trout's belly: either the Trout had devoured so many, or the
miller that gave it a friend of mine had forced them down his throat
after he had taken him.
Now for Flies; which is the third bait wherewith Trouts are usually
taken. You are to know, that there are so many sorts of flies as there
be of fruits: I will name you but some of them; as the dun-fly, the
stone-fly, the red-fly, the moor-fly, the tawny-fly, the shell-fly, the
cloudy or blackish-fly, the flag-fly, the vine-fly; there be of flies,
caterpillars, and canker-flies, and bear-flies; and indeed too many
either for me to name, or for you to remember. And their breeding is so
various and wonderful, that I might easily amaze myself, and tire you in
a relation of them.
And, yet, I will exercise your promised patience by saying a little of
the caterpillar, or the palmer-fly or worm; that by them you may guess
what a work it were, in a discourse, but to run over those very many
flies, worms, and little living creatures, with which the sun and summer
adorn and beautify the river-banks and meadows, both for the recreation
and contemplation of us anglers; pleasures which, I think, myself enjoy
more than any other man that is not of my profession.
Pliny holds an opinion, that many have their birth, or being, from a dew
that in the spring falls upon the leaves of trees; and that some kinds
of them are from a dew left upon herbs or flowers; and others from a dew
left upon coleworts or cabbages: all which kinds of dews being thickened
and condensed, are by the sun's generative heat, most of them, hatched,
and in three days made living creatures, and these of several shapes and
colours; some being hard and tough, some smooth and soft; some are
horned in their head, some in their tail, some have none; some have
hair, some none: some have sixteen feet, some less, and some have none:
but, as our Topsel hath with great diligence observed, those which have
none, move upon the earth, or upon broad leaves, their motion being not
unlike to the waves of the sea. Some of them he also observes to be bred
of the eggs of other caterpillars, and that those in their time turn to
be butterflies; and again, that their eggs turn the following year to be
caterpillars. And some affirm, that every plant has its particular fly or
caterpillar, which it breeds and feeds. I have seen, and may therefore
affirm it, a green caterpillar, or worm, as big as a small peascod,
which had fourteen legs; eight on the belly, four under the neck, and
two near the tail. It was found on a hedge of privet; and was taken
thence, and put into a large box, and a little branch or two of privet
put to it, on which I saw it feed as sharply as a dog gnaws a bone: it
lived thus, five or six days, and thrived, and changed the colour two or
three times but by some neglect in the keeper of it, it then died and
did not turn to a fly: but if it had lived, it had doubtless turned to
one of those flies that some call Flies of prey, which those that walk
by the rivers may, in summer, see fasten on smaller flies, and, I think,
make them their food. And 'tis observable, that as there be these flies
of prey, which be very large; so there be others, very little, created,
I think, only to feed them, and breed out of I know not what; whose
life, they say, nature intended not to exceed an hour; and yet that life
is thus made shorter by other flies, or accident.
'Tis endless to tell you what the curious searchers into nature's
productions have observed of these worms and flies: but yet I shall tell
you what Aldrovandus, our Topsel, and others, say of the Palmer-worm, or
Caterpillar: that whereas others content themselves to feed on
particular herbs or leaves; for most think, those very leaves that gave
them life and shape, give them a particular feeding and nourishment, and
that upon them they usually abide; yet he observes, that this is called
a pilgrim, or palmer-worm, for his very wandering life, and various
food; not contenting himself, as others do, with any one certain place
for his abode, nor any certain kind of herb or flower for his feeding,
but will boldly and disorderly wander up and down, and not endure to be
kept to a diet, or fixt to a particular place.
Nay, the very colours of caterpillars are, as one has observed, very
elegant and beautiful I shall, for a taste of the rest, describe one of
them; which I will, some time the next month, shew you feeding on a
willow-tree; and you shall find him punctually to answer this very
description: his lips and mouth somewhat yellow; his eyes black as jet;
his forehead purple; his feet and hinder parts green; his tail
two-forked and black; the whole body stained with a kind of red spots,
which run along the neck and shoulder-blade, not unlike the form of St.
Andrew's cross, or the letter X, made thus crosswise, and a white line
drawn down his back to his tail; all which add much beauty to his whole
body. And it is to me observable, that at a fixed age this caterpillar
gives over to eat, and towards winter comes to be covered over with a
strange shell or crust, called an aurelia; and so lives a kind of dead
life, without eating all the winter. And as others of several kinds turn
to be several kinds of flies and vermin, the Spring following; so this
caterpillar then turns to be a painted butterfly.
Come, come, my scholar, you see the river stops our morning walk: and I
will also here stop my discourse: only as we sit down under this
honeysuckle hedge, whilst I look a line to fit the rod that our brother
Peter hath lent you, I shall, for a little confirmation of what I have
said, repeat the observation of Du Bartas:
God, not contented to each kind to give
And to infuse the virtue generative,
Made, by his wisdom, many creatures breed
Of lifeless bodies, without Venus' deed.
So, the cold humour breeds the Salamander,
Who, in effect, like to her birth's commander,
With child with hundred winters, with her touch
Quencheth the fire, tho'glowing ne'er so much.
So of the fire, in burning furnace, springs
The fly Pyrausta with the flaming wings:
Without the fire, it dies: within it joys,
Living in that which each shine else destroys.
So, slow Boôtes underneath him sees
In th' icy isles those goslings hatch'd of trees;
Whose fruitful leaves, falling into the water,
Are turn'd, they say, to living fowls soon after.
So, rotten sides of broken ships do change
To barnacles. O transformation strange!
'Twas first a green tree; then, a gallant hull;
Lately a mushroom; now, a flying gull.
Venator. O my good master, this morning-walk has been spent to my great
pleasure and wonder: but, I pray, when shall I have your direction how
to make artificial flies, like to those that the Trout loves best; and,
also, how to use them?
Piscator. My honest scholar, it is now past five of the clock: we will
fish till nine; and then go to breakfast. Go you to yonder
sycamore-tree, and hide your bottle of drink under the hollow root of
it; for about that time, and in that place, we will make a brave
breakfast with a piece of powdered beef, and a radish or two, that I
have in my fish bag: we shall, I warrant you, make a good, honest,
wholesome hungry breakfast. And I will then give you direction for the
making and using of your flies: and in the meantime, there is your rod
and line; and my advice is, that you fish as you see me do, and let's
try which can catch the first fish.
Venator. I thank you, master. I will observe and practice your direction
as far as I am able.
Piscator. Look you, scholar; you see I have hold of a good fish: I now
see it is a Trout. I pray, put that net under him; and touch not my
line, for if you do, then we break all. Well done, scholar: I thank you.
Now for another. Trust me, I have another bite. Come, scholar, come lay
down your rod, and help me to land this as you did the other. So now we
shall be sure to have a good dish of fish for supper.
Venator. I am glad of that: but I have no fortune: sure, master, yours
is a better rod and better tackling.
Piscator. Nay, then, take mine; and I will fish with yours. Look you,
scholar, I have another. Come, do as you did before. And now I have a
bite at another. Oh me! he has broke all: there's half a line and a good
hook lost.
Venator. Ay, and a good Trout too.
Piscator. Nay, the Trout is not lost; for pray take notice, no man can
lose what he never had.
Venator. Master, I can neither catch with the first nor second angle: I
have no fortune.
Piscator. Look you, scholar, I have yet another. And now, having caught
three brace of Trouts, I will tell you a short tale as we walk towards
our breakfast. A scholar, a preacher I should say, that was to preach to
procure the approbation of a parish that he might be their lecturer, had
got from his fellow-pupil the copy of a sermon that was first preached
with great commendation by him that composed it: and though the borrower
of it preached it, word for word, as it was at first, yet it was utterly
disliked as it was preached by the second to his congregation, which the
sermon-borrower complained of to the lender of it: and was thus
answered: "I lent you, indeed, my fiddle, but not my fiddle-stick; for
you are to know, that every one cannot make musick with my words, which
are fitted for my own mouth". And so, my scholar, you are to know, that
as the ill pronunciation or ill accenting of words in a sermon spoils
it, so the ill carriage of your line, or not fishing even to a foot in a
right place, makes you lose your labour: and you are to know, that
though you have my fiddle, that is, my very rod and tacklings with which
you see I catch fish, yet you have not my fiddle-stick, that is, you yet
have not skill to know how to carry your hand and line, nor how to guide
it to a right place: and this must be taught you; for you are to
remember, I told you Angling is an art, either by practice or a long
observation, or both. But take this for a rule, When you fish for a
Trout with a worm, let your line have so much, and not more lead than
will fit the stream in which you fish; that is to say, more in a great
troublesome stream than in a smaller that is quieter; as near as may be,
so much as will sink the bait to the bottom, and keep it still in
motion, and not more.
But now, let's say grace, and fall to breakfast. What say you, scholar,
to the providence of an old angler? Does not this meat taste well? and
was not this place well chosen to eat it? for this sycamore-tree will
shade us from the sun's heat.
Venator. All excellent good; and my stomach excellent good, too. And now
I remember, and find that true which devout Lessius says, "that poor
men, and those that fast often, have much more pleasure in eating than
rich men, and gluttons, that always feed before their stomachs are empty
of their last meat and call for more; for by that means they rob
themselves of that pleasure that hunger brings to poor men". And I do
seriously approve of that saying of yours, "that you had rather be a
civil, well-governed, well-grounded, temperate, poor angler, than a
drunken lord ": but I hope there is none such. However, I am certain of
this, that I have been at many very costly dinners that have not
afforded me half the content that this has done; for which I thank God
and you.
And now, good master, proceed to your promised direction for making and
ordering my artificial fly.
Piscator. My honest scholar, I will do it; for it is a debt due unto you
by my promise. And because you shall not think yourself more engaged to
me than indeed you really are, I will freely give you such directions as
were lately given to me by an ingenious brother of the angle, an honest
man, and a most excellent fly-fisher.
You are to note, that there are twelve kinds of artificial made Flies,
to angle with upon the top of the water. Note, by the way, that the
fittest season of using these is in a blustering windy day, when the
waters are so troubled that the natural fly cannot be seen, or rest upon
them. The first is the dun-fly, in March: the body is made of dun wool;
the wings, of the partridge's feathers. The second is another dun-fly:
the body, of black wool; and the wings made of the black drake's
feathers, and of the feathers under his tail. The third is the
stone-fly, in April: the body is made of black wool; made yellow under
the wings and under the tail, and so made with wings of the drake. The
fourth is the ruddy-fly, in the beginning of May: the body made of red
wool, wrapt about with black silk; and the feathers are the wings of the
drake; with the feathers of a red capon also, which hang dangling on his
sides next to the tail. The fifth is the yellow or greenish fly, in May
likewise: the body made of yellow wool; and the wings made of the red
cock's hackle or tail. The sixth is the black-fly, in May also: the body
made of black wool, and lapt about with the herle of a peacock's tail:
the wings are made of the wings of a brown capon, with his blue feathers
in his head. The seventh is the sad yellow-fly in June: the body is made
of black wool, with a yellow list on either side; and the wings taken
off the wings of a buzzard, bound with black braked hemp. The eighth is
the moorish-fly; made, with the body, of duskish wool; and the wings
made of the blackish mail of the drake. The ninth is the tawny-fly, good
until the middle of June: the body made of tawny wool; the wings made
contrary one against the other, made of the whitish mail of the wild
drake. The tenth is the wasp-fly in July; the body made of black wool,
lapt about with yellow silk; the wings made of the feathers of the
drake, or of the buzzard. The eleventh is the shell-fly, good in
mid-July: the body made of greenish wool, lapt about with the herle of a
peacock's tail: and the wings made of the wings of the buzzard. The
twelfth is the dark drake-fly, good in August: the body made with black
wool, lapt about with black silk; his wings are made with the mail of
the black drake, with a black head. Thus have you a jury of flies,
likely to betray and condemn all the Trouts in the river.
I shall next give you some other directions for fly-fishing, such as are
given by Mr. Thomas Barker, a gentleman that hath spent much time in
fishing: but I shall do it with a little variation.
First, let your rod be light, and very gentle: I take the best to be of
two pieces. And let not your line exceed, especially for three or four
links next to the hook, I say, not exceed three or four hairs at the
most; though you may fish a little stronger above, in the upper part of
your line: but if you can attain to angle with one hair, you shall have
more rises, and catch more fish. Now you must be sure not to cumber
yourself with too long a line, as most do. And before you begin to
angle, cast to have the wind on your back; and the sun, if it shines, to
be before you; and to fish down the stream; and carry the point or top
of your rod downward, by which means the shadow of yourself and rod too,
will be the least offensive to the fish, for the sight of any shade
amazes the fish, and spoils your sport, of which you must take great
care.
In the middle of March, till which time a man should not in honesty
catch a Trout; or in April, it the weather be dark, or a little windy or
cloudy; the best fishing is with the palmer-worm, of which I last spoke
to you; but of these there be divers kinds, or at least of divers
colours: these and the May-fly are the ground of all fly-angling: which
are to be thus made:
First, you must arm your hook with the line, in the inside of it: then
take your scissors, and cut so much of a brown mallard's feather as, in
your own reason, will make the wings of it, you having, withal, regard
to the bigness or littleness of your hook; then lay the outmost part of
your feather next to your hook; then the point of your feather next the
shank of your hook, and, having so done, whip it three or four times
about the hook with the same silk with which your hook was armed; and
having made the silk fast, take the hackle of a cock or capon's neck, or
a plover's top, which is usually better: take off the one side of the
feather, and then take the hackle, silk or crewel, gold or silver
thread; make these fast at the bent of the hook, that is to say, below
your arming; then you must take the hackle, the silver or gold thread,
and work it up to the wings, shifting or still removing your finger as
you turn the silk about the hook, and still looking, at every stop or
turn, that your gold, or what materials soever you make your fly of, do
lie right and neatly; and if you find they do so, then when you have
made the head, make all fast: and then work your hackle up to the head,
and make that fast: and then, with a needle, or pin, divide the wing
into two; and then, with the arming silk, whip it about cross-ways
betwixt the wings: and then with your thumb you must turn the point of
the feather towards the bent of the hook; and then work three or four
times about the shank of the hook; and then view the proportion; and if
all be neat, and to your liking, fasten.
I confess, no direction can be given to make a man of a dull capacity
able to make a fly well: and yet I know this, with a little practice,
will help an ingenious angler in a good degree. But to see a fly made by
an artist in that kind, is the best teaching to make it. And, then, an
ingenious angler may walk by the river, and mark what flies fall on the
water that day; and catch one of them, if he sees the Trouts leap at a
fly of that kind: and then having always hooks ready-hung with him, and
having a bag always with him, with bear's hair, or the hair of a brown
or sad-coloured heifer, hackles of a cock or capon, several coloured
silk and crewel to make the body of the fly, the feathers of a drake's
head, black or brown sheep's wool, or hog's wool, or hair, thread of
gold and of silver; silk of several colours, especially sad-coloured, to
make the fly's head: and there be also other coloured feathers, both of
little birds and of speckled fowl: I say, having those with him in a
bag, and trying to make a fly, though he miss at first, yet shall he at
last hit it better, even to such a perfection as none can well teach him.
And if he hit to make his fly right, and have the luck to hit, also,
where there is store of Trouts, a dark day, and a right wind, he will
catch such store of them, as will encourage him to grow more and more in
love with the art of fly-making.
Venator. But, my loving master, if any wind will not serve, then I wish
I were in Lapland, to buy a good wind of one of the honest witches, that
sell so many winds there, and so cheap.
Piscator. Marry, scholar, but I would not be there, nor indeed from
under this tree; for look how it begins to rain, and by the clouds, if I
mistake not, we shall presently have a smoking shower, and therefore sit
close; this sycamore-tree will shelter us: and I will tell you, as they
shall come into my mind, more observations of fly-fishing for a Trout.
But first for the wind: you are to take notice that of the winds the
south wind is said to be best. One observes, that
...when the wind is south,
It blows your bait into a fish's mouth.
Next to that, the west wind is believed to be the best: and having told
you that the east wind is the worst, I need not tell you which wind is
the best in the third degree: and yet, as Solomon observes, that "he
that considers the wind shall never sow"; so he that busies his head too
much about them, if the weather be not made extreme cold by an east
wind, shall be a little superstitious: for as it is observed by some,
that "there is no good horse of a bad colour"; so I have observed, that
if it be a cloudy day, and not extreme cold, let the wind sit in what
corner it will and do its worst, I heed it not. And yet take this for a
rule, that I would willingly fish, standing on the lee-shore: and you
are to take notice, that the fish lies or swims nearer the bottom, and
in deeper water, in winter than in summer; and also nearer the bottom in
any cold day, and then gets nearest the lee-side of the water.
But I promised to tell you more of the Fly-fishing for a Trout; which I
may have time enough to do, for you see it rains May-butter. First for a
Mayfly: you may make his body with greenish-coloured crewel, or
willowish colour; darkening it in most places with waxed silk; or ribbed
with black hair; or, some of them, ribbed with silver thread; and such
wings, for the colour, as you see the fly to have at that season, nay,
at that very day on the water. Or you may make the Oak-fly: with an
orange, tawny, and black ground; and the brown of a mallard's feather
for the wings. And you are to know, that these two are most excellent
flies, that is, the May-fly and the Oak-fly.
And let me again tell you, that you keep as far from the water as you
can possibly, whether you fish with a fly or worm; and fish down the
stream. And when you fish with a fly, if it be possible, let no part of
your line touch the water, but your fly only; and be still moving your
fly upon the water, or casting it into the water, you yourself being
also always moving down the stream.
Mr. Barker commends several sorts of the palmer-flies; not only those
ribbed with silver and gold, but others that have their bodies all made
of black; or some with red, and a red hackle. You may also make the
Hawthorn-fly: which is all black, and not big, but very small, the
smaller the better. Or the oak-fly, the body of which is orange colour
and black crewel, with a brown wing. Or a fly made with a peacock's
feather is excellent in a bright day: you must be sure you want not in
your magazine-bag the peacock's feather; and grounds of such wool and
crewel as will make the grasshopper. And note, that usually the smallest
flies are the best; and note also, that the light fly does usually make
most sport in a dark day, and the darkest and least fly in a bright or
clear day: and lastly note, that you are to repair upon any occasion to
your magazine-bag: and upon any occasion, vary and make them lighter or
sadder, according to your fancy, or the day.
And now I shall tell you, that the fishing with a natural-fly is
excellent, and affords much pleasure. They may be found thus: the
May-fly, usually in and about that month, near to the river-side,
especially against rain: the Oak-fly, on the butt or body of an oak or
ash, from the beginning of May to the end of August; it is a brownish
fly and easy to be so found, and stands usually with his head downward,
that is to say, towards the root of the tree: the small black-fly, or
Hawthorn-fly, is to be had on any hawthorn bush after the leaves be come
forth. With these and a short line, as I shewed to angle for a Chub, you
may cape or cop, and also with a grasshopper, behind a tree, or in any
deep hole; still making it to move on the top of the water as if it were
alive, and still keeping yourself out of sight, you shall certainly have
sport if there be Trouts; yea, in a hot day, but especially in the
evening of a hot day, you will have sport.
And now, scholar, my direction for fly-fishing is ended with this
shower, for it has done raining. And now look about you, and see how
pleasantly that meadow looks; nay, and the earth smells so sweetly too.
Come let me tell you what holy Mr. Herbert says of such days and flowers
as these, and then we will thank God that we enjoy them, and walk to the
river and sit down quietly, and try to catch the other place of Trouts.
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie;
My music shews you have your closes,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives,
But when the whole world turns to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
Venator. I thank you, good master, for your good direction for
fly-fishing, and for the sweet enjoyment of the pleasant day, which is
so far spent without offence to God or man: and I thank you for the
sweet close of your discourse with Mr. Herbert's verses; who, I have
heard, loved angling; and I do the rather believe it, because he had a
spirit suitable to anglers, and to those primitive Christians that you
love, and have so much commended.
Piscator. Well, my loving scholar, and I am pleased to know that you are
so well pleased with my direction and discourse.
And since you like these verses of Mr. Herbert's so well, let me tell
you what a reverend and learned divine that professes to imitate him,
and has indeed done so most excellently, hath writ of our book of Common
Prayer; which I know you will like the better, because he is a friend of
mine, and I am sure no enemy to angling.
What! Pray'r by th' book? and Common? Yes; Why not?
The spirit of grace
And supplication
Is not left free alone
For time and place,
But manner too: to read, or speak, by rote,
Is all alike to him that prays,
In's heart, what with his mouth he says.
They that in private, by themselves alone,
Do pray, may take
What liberty they please,
In chusing of the ways
Wherein to make
Their soul's most intimate affections known
To him that sees in secret, when
Th' are most conceal'd from other men.
But he, that unto others leads the way
In public prayer,
Should do it so,
As all, that hear, may know
They need not fear
To tune their hearts unto his tongue, and say
Amen; not doubt they were betray'd
To blaspheme, when they meant to have pray'd.
Devotion will add life unto the letter:
And why should not
That, which authority
Prescribes, esteemed be
Advantage got?
If th' prayer be good, the commoner the better,
Prayer in the Church's words, as well
As sense, of all prayers bears the bell.
And now, scholar, I think it will be time to repair to our angle-rods,
which we left in the water to fish for themselves; and you shall choose
which shall be yours; and it is an even lay, one of them catches.
And, let me tell you, this kind of fishing with a dead rod, and laying
night-hooks, are like putting money to use; for they both work for the
owners when they do nothing but sleep, or eat, or rejoice, as you know
we have done this last hour, and sat as quietly and as free from cares
under this sycamore, as Virgil's Tityrus and his Meliboeus did under
their broad beech-tree. No life, my honest scholar, no life so happy and
so pleasant as the life of a well-governed angler; for when the lawyer
is swallowed up with business, and the statesman is preventing or
contriving plots, then we sit on cowslip-banks, hear the birds sing, and
possess ourselves in as much quietness as these silent silver streams,
which we now see glide so quietly by us. Indeed, my good scholar, we may
say of angling, as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless God
could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did"; and so,
if I might be judge, God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent
recreation than angling.
I'll tell you, scholar; when I sat last on this primrose-bank, and
looked down these meadows, I thought of them as Charles the emperor did
of the city of Florence: "That they were too pleasant to be looked on,
but only on holy-days". As I then sat on this very grass, I turned my
present thoughts into verse: 'twas a Wish, which I'll repeat to you:--
The Angler's wish.
I in these flowery meads would be:
These crystal streams should solace me;
To whose harmonious bubbling noise
I with my Angle would rejoice:
Sit here, and see the turtle-dove
Court his chaste mate to acts of love:
Or, on that bank, feel the west wind
Breathe health and plenty: please my mind,
To see sweet dew-drops kiss these flowers,
And then washed off by April showers:
Here, hear my Kenna sing a song;
There, see a blackbird feed her young.
Or a leverock build her nest:
Here, give my weary spirits rest,
And raise my low-pitch'd thoughts above
Earth, or what poor mortals love:
Thus, free from law-suits and the noise
Of princes' courts, I would rejoice:
Or, with my Bryan, and a book,
Loiter long days near Shawford-brook;
There sit by him, and eat my meat,
There see the sun both rise and set:
There bid good morning to next day;
There meditate my time away,
And Angle on; and beg to have
A quiet passage to a welcome grave.
When I had ended this composure, I left this place, and saw a brother of
the angle sit under that honeysuckle hedge, one that will prove worth
your acquaintance. I sat down by him, and presently we met with an
accidental piece of merriment, which I will relate to you, for it rains
still.
On the other side of this very hedge sat a gang of gypsies; and near to
them sat a gang of beggars. The gypsies were then to divide all the
money that had been got that week, either by stealing linen or poultry,
or by fortune-telling or legerdemain, or, indeed, by any other sleights
and secrets belonging to their mysterious government. And the sum that
was got that week proved to be but twenty and some odd shillings. The
odd money was agreed to be distributed amongst the poor of their own
corporation: and for the remaining twenty shillings, that was to be
divided unto four gentlemen gypsies, according to their several degrees
in their commonwealth. And the first or chiefest gypsy was, by consent,
to have a third part of the twenty shillings, which all men know is 6s.
8d. The second was to have a fourth part of the 20s., which all men know
to be 5s. The third was to have a fifth part of the 20s., which all men
know to be 4s. The fourth and last gypsy was to have a sixth part of the
20s., which all men know to be 3s. 4d.
As for example,
3 times 6s. 8d. are 20s.
And so is 4 times 5s. are 20s.
And so is 5 times 4s. are 20s.
And so is 6 times 3s. 4d. are 20s.
And yet he that divided the money was so very a gypsy, that though he
gave to every one these said sums, yet he kept one shilling of it for
himself
As, for example, s. d.
6 8
5 0
4 0
3 4
------
make but . . . . . . 19 0
But now you shall know, that when the four gypsies saw that he had got
one shilling by dividing the money, though not one of them knew any
reason to demand more, yet, like lords and courtiers, every gypsy envied
him that was the gainer; and wrangled with him; and every one said the
remaining shilling belonged to him; and so they fell to so high a
contest about it, as none that knows the faithfulness of one gypsy to
another will easily believe; only we that have lived these last twenty
years are certain that money has been able to do much mischief. However,
the gypsies were too wise to go to law, and did therefore choose their
choice friends Rook and Shark, and our late English Gusman, to be their
arbitrators and umpires. And so they left this honeysuckle hedge; and
went to tell fortunes and cheat, and get more money and lodging in the
next village.
When these were gone, we heard as high a contention amongst the beggars,
whether it was easiest to rip a cloak, or to unrip a cloak? One beggar
affirmed it was all one: but that was denied, by asking her, If doing
and undoing were all one? Then another said, 'twas easiest to unrip a
cloak; for that was to let it alone: but she was answered, by asking
her, how she unript it if she let it alone? and she confess herself
mistaken. These and twenty such like questions were proposed and
answered, with as much beggarly logick and earnestness as was ever heard
to proceed from the mouth of the pertinacious schismatick; and sometimes
all the beggars, whose number was neither more nor less than the poets'
nine muses, talked all together about this ripping and unripping; and so
loud, that not one heard what the other said: but, at last, one beggar
craved audience; and told them that old father Clause, whom Ben Jonson,
in his Beggar's Bush, created King of their corporation, was to lodge at
an ale-house, called "Catch-her-by-the-way," not far from Waltham
Cross, and in the high road towards London; and he therefore desired
them to spend no more time about that and such like questions, but refer
all to father Clause at night, for he was an upright judge, and in the
meantime draw cuts, what song should be next sung, and who should sing
it. They all agreed to the motion; and the lot fell to her that was the
youngest, and veriest virgin of the company. And she sung Frank
Davison's song, which he made forty years ago; and all the others of the
company joined to sing the burthen with her. The ditty was this; but
first the burthen:
Bright shines the sun; play, Beggars, play;
Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.
What noise of viols is so sweet,
As when our merry clappers ring?
What mirth doth want where Beggars meet?
A Beggar's life is for a King.
Eat, drink, and play, sleep when we list
Go where we will, so stocks be mist.
Bright shines the sun; play, Beggars, play,
Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.
The world is ours, and ours alone;
For we alone have world at will
We purchase not, all is our own;
Both fields and streets we Beggars fill.
Nor care to get, nor fear to keep,
Did ever break a Beggar's sleep,
Play, Beggars, play; play, Beggars, play;
Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.
A hundred head of black and white
Upon our gowns securely feed If any dare his master bite
He dies therefore, as sure as creed.
Thus Beggars lord it as they please;
And only Beggars live at ease.
Bright shines the sun; play, Beggars, play;
Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.
Venator. I thank you, good master, for this piece of merriment, and this
song, which was well humoured by the maker, and well remembered by you.
Piscator. But, I pray, forget not the catch which you promised to make
against night; for our countryman, honest Coridon, will expect your
catch, and my song, which I must be forced to patch up, for it is so
long since I learnt it, that I have forgot a part of it. But, come, now
it hath done raining, let's stretch our legs a little in a gentle walk
to the river, and try what interest our angles will pay us for lending
them so long to be used by the Trouts; lent them indeed, like usurers,
for our profit and their destruction.
Venator. Oh me! look you, master, a fish! a fish! Oh, alas, master, I
have lost her.
Piscator. Ay marry, Sir, that was a good fish indeed: if I had had the
luck to have taken up that rod, then 'tis twenty to one he should not
have broken my line by running to the rod's end, as you suffered him. I
would have held him within the bent of my rod, unless he had been fellow
to the great Trout that is near an ell long, which was of such a length
and depth, that he had his picture drawn, and now is to be seen at mine
host Rickabie's, at the George in Ware, and it may be, by giving that
very great Trout the rod, that is, by casting it to him into the water,
I might have caught him at the long run, for so I use always to do when
I meet with an over-grown fish; and you will learn to do so too,
hereafter, for I tell you, scholar, fishing is an art, or, at least, it
is an art to catch fish.
Venator. But, master, I have heard that the great Trout you speak of is
a Salmon.
Piscator. Trust me, scholar, I know not what to say to it. There are
many country people that believe hares change sexes every year: and
there be very many learned men think so too, for in their dissecting
them they find many reasons to incline them to that belief. And to make
the wonder seem yet less, that hares change sexes, note that Dr. Mer.
Casaubon affirms, in his book "Of credible and incredible things," that
Gasper Peucerus, a learned physician, tells us of a people that once a
year turn wolves, partly in shape, and partly in conditions. And so,
whether this were a Salmon when he came into fresh water, and his not
returning into the sea hath altered him to another colour or kind, I am
not able to say; but I am certain he hath all the signs of being a
Trout, both for his shape, colour, and spots; and yet many think he is
not.
Venator. But, master, will this Trout which I had hold of die? for it is
like he hath the hook in his belly.
Piscator. I will tell you, scholar, that unless the hook be fast in his
very gorge, 'tis more than probable he will live, and a little time,
with the help of the water, will rust the hook, and it will in time wear
away, as the gravel doth in the horse-hoof, which only leaves a false
quarter.
And now, scholar, let's go to my rod. Look you, scholar, I have a fish
too, but it proves a logger-headed Chub: and this is not much amiss, for
this will pleasure some poor body, as we go to our lodging to meet our
brother Peter and honest Coridon. Come, now bait your hook again, and
lay it into the water, for it rains again; and we will even retire to
the Sycamore-tree, and there I will give you more directions concerning
fishing, for I would fain make you an artist.
Venator. Yes, good master, I pray let it be so.
Piscator. Well, scholar, now that we are sate down and are at ease, I
shall tell you a little more of Trout-fishing, before I speak of the
Salmon, which I purpose shall be next, and then of the Pike or Luce.
You are to know, there is night as well as day fishing for a Trout; and
that, in the night, the best Trouts come out of their holes. And the
manner of taking them is on the top of the water with a great lob or
garden-worm, or rather two, which you are to fish with in a stream where
the waters run somewhat quietly, for in a stream the bait will not be so
well discerned. I say, in a quiet or dead place, near to some swift,
there draw your bait over the top of the water, to and fro, and if there
be a good Trout in the hole, he will take it, especially if the night be
dark, for then he is bold, and lies near the top of the water, watching
the motion of any frog or water-rat, or mouse, that swims betwixt him
and the sky; these he hunts after, if he sees the water but wrinkle or
move in one of these dead holes, where these great old Trouts usually
lie, near to their holds; for you are to note, that the great old Trout
is both subtle and fearful, and lies close all day, and does not usually
stir out of his hold, but lies in it as close in the day as the timorous
hare does in her form; for the chief feeding of either is seldom in the
day, but usually in the night, and then the great Trout feeds very
boldly.
And you must fish for him with a strong line, and not a little hook; and
let him have time to gorge your hook, for he does not usually forsake
it, as he oft will in the day-fishing. And if the night be not dark,
then fish so with an artificial fly of a light colour, and at the snap:
nay, he will sometimes rise at a dead mouse, or a piece of cloth, or
anything that seems to swim across the water, or to be in motion. This
is a choice way, but I have not oft used it, because it is void of the
pleasures that such days as these, that we two now enjoy, afford an
angler.
And you are to know, that in Hampshire, which I think exceeds all
England for swift, shallow, clear, pleasant brooks, and store of Trouts,
they used to catch Trouts in the night, by the light of a torch or
straw, which, when they have discovered, they strike with a Trout-spear,
or other ways. This kind of way they catch very many: but I would not
believe it till I was an eye-witness of it, nor do I like it now I have
seen it.
Venator. But, master, do not Trouts see us in the night?
Piscator Yes, and hear, and smell too, both then and in the day-time:
for Gesner observes, the Otter smells a fish forty furlongs off him in
the water: and that it may be true, seems to be affirmed by Sir Francis
Bacon, in the eighth century of his Natural History, who there proves
that waters may be the medium of sounds, by demonstrating it thus: "That
if you knock two stones together very deep under the water, those that
stand on a bank near to that place may hear the noise without any
diminution of it by the water ". He also offers the like experiment
concerning the letting an anchor fall, by a very long cable or rope, on
a rock, or the sand, within the sea. And this being so well observed and
demonstrated as it is by that learned man, has made me to believe that
Eels unbed themselves and stir at the noise of thunder, and not only, as
some think, by the motion or stirring of the earth which is occasioned
by that thunder.
And this reason of Sir Francis Bacon has made me crave pardon of one
that I laughed at for affirming that he knew Carps come to a certain
place, in a pond, to be fed at the ringing of a bell or the beating of a
drum. And, however, it shall be a rule for me to make as little noise as
I can when I am fishing, until Sir Francis Bacon be confuted, which I
shall give any man leave to do.
And lest you may think him singular in this opinion, I will tell you,
this seems to be believed by our learned Doctor Hakewill, who in his
Apology of God's power and providence, quotes Pliny to report that one
of the emperors had particular fish-ponds, and, in them, several fish
that appeared and came when they were called by their particular names.
And St. James tells us, that all things in the sea have been tamed by
mankind. And Pliny tells us, that Antonia, the wife of Drusus, had a
Lamprey at whose gills she hung jewels or ear-rings; and that others
have been so tender-hearted as to shed tears at the death of fishes
which they have kept and loved. And these observations, which will to
most hearers seem wonderful, seem to have a further confirmation from
Martial, who writes thus:--
Piscator, fuge; ne nocens, etc.
Angler! would'st thou be guiltless ? then forbear;
For these are sacred fishes that swim here,
Who know their sovereign, and will lick his hand,
Than which none's greater in the world's command;
Nay more they've names, and, when they called are,
Do to their several owner's call repair.
All the further use that I shall make of this shall be, to advise
anglers to be patient, and forbear swearing, lest they be heard, and
catch no fish.
And so I shall proceed next to tell you, it is certain that certain
fields near Leominster, a town in Herefordshire, are observed to make
the sheep that graze upon them more fat than the next, and also to bear
finer wool; that is to say, that that year in which they feed in such a
particular pasture, they shall yield finer wool than they did that year
before they came to feed in it; and coarser, again, if they shall return
to their former pasture; and, again, return to a finer wool, being fed
in the fine wool ground: which I tell you, that you may the better
believe that I am certain, if I catch a Trout in one meadow, he shall be
white and faint, and very like to be lousy; and, as certainly, it I
catch a Trout in the next meadow, he shall be strong, and red, and
lusty, and much better meat. Trust me, scholar, I have caught many a
Trout in a particular meadow, that the very shape and the enamelled
colour of him hath been such as hath joyed me to look on him: and I have
then, with much pleasure, concluded with Solomon, "Everything is
beautiful in his season".
I should, by promise, speak next of the Salmon; but I will, by your
favour, say a little of the Umber or Grayling; which is so like a Trout
for his shape and feeding, that I desire I may exercise your patience
with a short discourse of him; and then, the next shall be of the
Salmon.
The fourth day-continued
The Umber or Grayling
Chapter VI
Piscator
The Umber and Grayling are thought by some to differ as the Herring and
Pilchard do. But though they may do so in other nations, I think those
in England differ nothing but in their names. Aldrovandus says, they be
of a Trout kind; and Gesner says, that in his country, which is
Switzerland, he is accounted the choicest of all fish. And in Italy, he
is, in the month of May, so highly valued, that he is sold there at a
much higher rate than any other fish. The French, which call the Chub Un
Villain, call the Umber of the lake Leman Un Umble Chevalier; and they
value the Umber or Grayling so highly, that they say he feeds on gold;
and say, that many have been caught out of their famous river of Loire,
out of whose bellies grains of gold have been often taken. And some
think that he feeds on water thyme, and smells of it at his first taking
out of the water; and they may think so with as good reason as we do
that our Smelts smell like violets at their being first caught, which I
think is a truth. Aldrovandus says, the Salmon, the Grayling, and Trout,
and all fish that live in clear and sharp streams, are made by their
mother Nature of such exact shape and pleasant colours purposely to
invite us to a joy and contentedness in feasting with her. Whether this
is a truth or not, is not my purpose to dispute: but 'tis certain, all
that write of the Umber declare him to be very medicinable. And Gesner
says, that the fat of an Umber or Grayling, being set, with a little
honey, a day or two in the sun, in a little glass, is very excellent
against redness or swarthiness, or anything that breeds in the eyes.
Salvian takes him to be called Umber from his swift swimming, or gliding
out of sight more like a shadow or a ghost than a fish. Much more might
be said both of his smell and taste: but I shall only tell you that St.
Ambrose, the glorious bishop of Milan, who lived when the church kept
fasting-days, calls him the flower-fish, or flower of fishes; and that
he was so far in love with him, that he would not let him pass without
the honour of a long discourse; but I must; and pass on to tell you how
to take this dainty fish.
First note, that he grows not to the bigness of a Trout; for the biggest
of them do not usually exceed eighteen inches. He lives in such rivers
as the Trout does; and is usually taken with the same baits as the Trout
is, and after the same manner; for he will bite both at the minnow, or
worm, or fly, though he bites not often at the minnow, and is very
gamesome at the fly; and much simpler, and therefore bolder than a
Trout; for he will rise twenty times at a fly, if you miss him, and yet
rise again. He has been taken with a fly made of the red feathers of a
paroquet, a strange outlandish bird; and he will rise at a fly not
unlike a gnat, or a small moth, or, indeed, at most flies that are not
too big. He is a fish that lurks close all Winter, but is very pleasant
and jolly after mid-April, and in May, and in the hot months. He is of a
very fine shape, his flesh is white, his teeth, those little ones that
he has, are in his throat, yet he has so tender a mouth, that he is
oftener lost after an angler has hooked him than any other fish. Though
there be many of these fishes in the delicate river Dove, and in Trent,
and some other smaller rivers, as that which runs by Salisbury, yet he
is not so general a fish as the Trout, nor to me so good to eat or to
angle for. And so I shall take my leave of him: and now come to some
observations of the Salmon, and how to catch him.
The fourth day-continued
The Salmon
Chapter VII
Piscator
The Salmon is accounted the King of freshwater fish; and is ever bred in
rivers relating to the sea, yet so high, or far from it, as admits of no
tincture of salt, or brackishness. He is said to breed or cast his
spawn, in most rivers, in the month of August: some say, that then they
dig a hole or grave in a safe place in the gravel, and there place their
eggs or spawn, after the melter has done his natural office, and then
hide it most cunningly, and cover it over with gravel and stones; and
then leave it to their Creator's protection, who, by a gentle heat which
he infuses into that cold element, makes it brood, and beget life in the
spawn, and to become Samlets early in the spring next following.
The Salmons having spent their appointed time, and done this natural
duty in the fresh waters, they then haste to the sea before winter, both
the melter and spawner; but if they be stopped by flood-gates or weirs, or
lost in the fresh waters, then those so left behind by degrees grow sick
and lean, and unseasonable, and kipper, that is to say, have bony
gristles grow out of their lower chaps, not unlike a hawk's beak, which
hinders their feeding; and, in time, such fish so left behind pine away
and die. 'Tis observed, that he may live thus one year from the sea; but
he then grows insipid and tasteless, and loses both his blood and
strength, and pines and dies the second year. And 'tis noted, that those
little Salmons called Skeggers, which abound in many rivers relating to
the sea, are bred by such sick Salmons that might not go to the sea, and
that though they abound, yet they never thrive to any considerable
bigness.
But if the old Salmon gets to the sea, then that gristle which shews him
to be kipper, wears away, or is cast off, as the eagle is said to cast
his bill, and he recovers his strength, and comes next summer to the
same river, if it be possible, to enjoy the former pleasures that there
possess him; for, as one has wittily observed, he has, like some persons
of honour and riches which have both their winter and summer houses, the
fresh rivers for summer, and the salt water for winter, to spend his
life in; which is not, as Sir Francis Bacon hath observed in his History
of Life and Death, above ten years. And it is to be observed, that
though the Salmon does grow big in the sea, yet he grows not fat but in
fresh rivers; and it is observed, that the farther they get from the
sea, they be both the fatter and better.
Next, I shall tell you, that though they make very hard shift to get out
of the fresh rivers into the sea yet they will make harder shift to get
out of the salt into the fresh rivers, to spawn, or possess the
pleasures that they have formerly found in them: to which end, they will
force themselves through floodgates, or over weirs, or hedges, or stops
in the water, even to a height beyond common belief. Gesner speaks of
such places as are known to be above eight feet high above water. And
our Camden mentions, in his Britannia, the like wonder to be in
Pembrokeshire, where the river Tivy falls into the sea; and that the
fall is so downright, and so high, that the people stand and wonder at
the strength and sleight by which they see the Salmon use to get out of
the sea into the said river; and the manner and height of the place is
so notable, that it is known, far, by the name of the Salmon-leap.
Concerning which, take this also out of Michael Drayton, my honest old
friend; as he tells it you, in his Polyolbion:
And when the Salmon seeks a fresher stream to find;
(Which hither from the sea comes, yearly, by his kind,)
As he towards season grows; and stems the watry tract
Where Tivy, falling down, makes an high cataract,
Forc'd by the rising rocks that there her course oppose,
As tho' within her bounds they meant her to inclose;
Here when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive,
And finds that by his strength he does but vainly strive;
His tail takes in his mouth, and, bending like a bow
That's to full compass drawn, aloft himself doth throw,
Then springing at his height, as doth a little wand
That bended end to end, and started from man's hand,
Far off itself doth cast, so does that Salmon vault;
And if, at first, he fail, his second summersault
He instantly essays, and, from his nimble ring
Still yerking, never leaves until himself he fling
Above the opposing stream----.
This Michael Drayton tells you, of this leap or summersault of the
Salmon.
And, next, I shall tell you, that it is observed by Gesner and others,
that there is no better Salmon than in England; and that though some of
our northern counties have as fat, and as large, as the river Thames,
yet none are of so excellent a taste.
And as I have told you that Sir Francis Bacon observes, the age of a
Salmon exceeds not ten years; so let me next tell you, that his growth
is very sudden: it is said that after he is got into the sea, he
becomes, from a Samlet not so big as a Gudgeon, to be a Salmon, in as
short a time as a gosling becomes to be a goose. Much of this has been
observed, by tying a riband, or some known tape or thread, in the tail
of some young Salmons which have been taken in weirs as they have
swimmed towards the salt water; and then by taking a part of them again,
with the known mark, at the same place, at their return from the sea,
which is usually about six months after; and the like experiment hath
been tried upon young swallows, who have, after six months' absence,
been observed to return to the same chimney, there to make their nests
and habitations for the summer following; which has inclined many to
think, that every Salmon usually returns to the same river in which it
was bred, as young pigeons taken out of the same dovecote have also been
observed to do.
And you are yet to observe further, that the He-salmon is usually bigger
than the Spawner; and that he is more kipper, and less able to endure a
winter in the fresh water than the She is: yet she is, at that time of
looking less kipper and better, as watry, and as bad meat.
And yet you are to observe, that as there is no general rule without an
exception, so there are some few rivers in this nation that have Trouts
and Salmon in season in winter, as 'tis certain there be in the river
Wye in Monmouthshire, where they be in season, as Camden observes, from
September till April. But, my scholar, the observation of this and many
other things I must in manners omit, because they will prove too large
for our narrow compass of time, and, therefore, I shall next fall upon
my directions how to fish for this Salmon.
And, for that: First you shall observe, that usually he stays not long
in a place, as Trouts will, but, as I said, covets still to go nearer
the spring-head: and that he does not, as the Trout and many other fish,
lie near the water-side or bank, or roots of trees, but swims in the
deep and broad parts of the water, and usually in the middle, and near
the ground, and that there you are to fish for him, and that he is to be
caught, as the Trout is, with a worm, a minnow which some call a peek,
or with a fly.
And you are to observe, that he is very seldom observed to bite at a
minnow, yet sometimes he will, and not usually at a fly, but more
usually at a worm, and then most usually at a lob or garden-worm, which
should be well scoured, that is to say, kept seven or eight days in moss
before you fish with them: and if you double your time of eight into
sixteen, twenty, or more days, it is still the better; for the worms
will still be clearer, tougher, and more lively, and continue so longer
upon your hook. And they may be kept longer by keeping them cool, and in
fresh moss; and some advise to put camphire into it.
Note also, that many used to fish for a Salmon with a ring of wire on
the top of their rod, through which the line may run to as great a
length as is needful, when he is hooked. And to that end, some use a
wheel about the middle of their rod, or near their hand, which is to be
observed better by seeing one of them than by a large demonstration of
words.
And now I shall tell you that which may be called a secret. I have been
a-fishing with old Oliver Henly, now with God, a noted fisher both for
Trout and Salmon; and have observed, that he would usually take three or
four worms out of his bag, and put them into a little box in his pocket,
where he would usually let them continue half an hour or more, before he
would bait his hook with them. I have asked him his reason, and he has
replied, "He did but pick the best out to be in readiness against he
baited his hook the next time": but he has been observed, both by
others and myself, to catch more fish than I, or any other body that has
ever gone a-fishing with him, could do, and especially Salmons. And I
have been told lately, by one of his most intimate and secret friends,
that the box in which he put those worms was anointed with a drop, or
two or three, of the oil of ivy-berries, made by expression or infusion;
and told, that by the worms remaining in that box an hour, or a like
time, they had incorporated a kind of smell that was irresistibly
attractive, enough to force any fish within the smell of them to bite.
This I heard not long since from a friend, but have not tried it; yet I
grant it probable, and refer my reader to Sir Francis Bacon's Natural
history, where he proves fishes may hear, and, doubtless, can more
probably smell: and I am certain Gesner says, the Otter can smell in the
water; and I know not but that fish may do so too. 'Tis left for a lover
of angling, or any that desires to improve that art, to try this
conclusion.
I shall also impart two other experiments, but not tried by myself,
which I will deliver in the same words that they were given me by an
excellent angler and a very friend, in writing: he told me the latter
was too good to be told, but in a learned language, lest it should be
made common.
"Take the stinking oil drawn out of polypody of the oak by a retort,
mixed with turpentine and hive-honey, and anoint your bait therewith,
and it will doubtless draw the fish to it."
The other is this: "Vulnera hederae grandissimae inflicta sudant
balsamum oleo gelato, albicantique persimile, odoris vero longe
suavissimi".
"'Tis supremely sweet to any fish, and yet assa foetida may do the
like."
But in these I have no great faith; yet grant it probable; and have had
from some chymical men, namely, from Sir George Hastings and others, an
affirmation of them to be very advantageous. But no more of these;
especially not in this place.
I might here, before I take my leave of the Salmon, tell you, that there
is more than one sort of them, as namely, a Tecon, and another called in
some places a Samlet, or by some a Skegger; but these, and others which
I forbear to name, may be fish of another kind, and differ as we know a
Herring and a Pilchard do, which, I think, are as different as the
rivers in which they breed, and must, by me, be left to the
disquisitions of men of more leisure, and of greater abilities than I
profess myself to have.
And lastly, I am to borrow so much of your promised patience, as to tell
you, that the trout, or Salmon, being in season, have, at their first
taking out of the water, which continues during life, their bodies
adorned, the one with such red spots, and the other with such black or
blackish spots, as give them such an addition of natural beauty as, I
think, was never given to any woman by the artificial paint or patches
in which they so much pride themselves in this age. And so I shall leave
them both; and proceed to some observations of the Pike.
The fourth day-continued
On the Luce or Pike
Chapter VIII
Piscator and Venator
Piscator. The mighty Luce or Pike is taken to be the tyrant, as the
Salmon is the king, of the fresh water. 'Tis not to be doubted, but that
they are bred, some by generation, and some not; as namely, of a weed
called pickerel-weed, unless learned Gesner be much mistaken, for he
says, this weed and other glutinous matter, with the help of the sun's
heat, in some particular months, and some ponds, apted for it by nature,
do become Pikes. But, doubtless, divers Pikes are bred after this
manner, or are brought into some ponds some such other ways as is past
man's finding out, of which we have daily testimonies.
Sir Francis Bacon, in his History of Life and Death, observes the Pike
to be the longest lived of any fresh-water fish; and yet he computes it
to be not usually above forty years; and others think it to be not above
ten years: and yet Gesner mentions a Pike taken in Swedeland, in the
year 1449, with a ring about his neck, declaring he was put into that
pond by Frederick the Second, more than two hundred years before he was
last taken, as by the inscription in that ring, being Greek, was
interpreted by the then Bishop of Worms. But of this no more; but that
it is observed, that the old or very great Pikes have in them more of
state than goodness; the smaller or middle-sized Pikes being, by the
most and choicest palates, observed to be the best meat: and, contrary,
the Eel is observed to be the better for age and bigness.
All Pikes that live long prove chargeable to their keepers, because
their life is maintained by the death of so many other fish, even those
of their own kind, which has made him by some writers to be called the
tyrant of the rivers, or the fresh-water wolf, by reason of his bold,
greedy, devouring, disposition; which is so keen, as Gesner relates, A
man going to a pond, where it seems a Pike had devoured all the fish, to
water his mule, had a Pike bit his mule by the lips; to which the Pike
hung so fast, that the mule drew him out of the water; and by that
accident, the owner of the mule angled out the Pike. And the same Gesner
observes, that a maid in Poland had a Pike bit her by the foot, as she
was washing clothes in a pond. And I have heard the like of a woman in
Killingworth pond, not far from Coventry. But I have been assured by my
friend Mr. Segrave, of whom I spake to you formerly, that keeps tame
Otters, that he hath known a Pike, in extreme hunger, fight with one of
his Otters for a Carp that the Otter had caught, and was then bringing
out of the water. I have told you who relate these things; and tell you
they are persons of credit; and shall conclude this observation, by
telling you, what a wise man has observed, "It is a hard thing to
persuade the belly, because it has no ears".
But if these relations be disbelieved, it is too evident to be doubted,
that a Pike will devour a fish of his own kind that shall be bigger than
his belly or throat will receive, and swallow a part of him, and let the
other part remain in his mouth till the swallowed part be digested, and
then swallow that other part that was in his mouth, and so put it over
by degrees; which is not unlike the Ox, and some other beasts taking
their meat, not out of their mouth immediately into their belly, but
first into some place betwixt, and then chew it, or digest it by degrees
after, which is called chewing the cud. And, doubtless, Pikes will bite
when they are not hungry; but, as some think, even for very anger, when
a tempting bait comes near to them.
And it is observed, that the Pike will eat venomous things, as some kind
of frogs are, and yet live without being harmed by them; for, as some
say, he has in him a natural balsam, or antidote against all poison. And
he has a strange heat, that though it appear to us to be cold, can yet
digest or put over any fish-flesh, by degrees, without being sick. And
others observe, that he never eats the venomous frog till he have first
killed her, and then as ducks are observed to do to frogs in
spawning-time, at which time some frogs are observed to be venomous, so
thoroughly washed her, by tumbling her up and down in the water, that he
may devour her without danger. And Gesner affirms, that a Polonian
gentleman did faithfully assure him, he had seen two young geese at one
time in the belly of a Pike. And doubtl
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