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