Piscator and Venator
Piscator. Well, Scholar, I have held you too long about these cadis, and
smaller fish, and rivers, and fish-ponds; and my spirits are almost
spent, and so I doubt is your patience; but being we are now almost at
Tottenham where I first met you, and where we are to part, I will lose
no time, but give you a little direction how to make and order your
lines, and to colour the hair of which you make your lines, for that is
very needful to be known of an angler; and also how to paint your rod,
especially your top; for a right-grown top is a choice commodity, and
should be preserved from the water soaking into it, which makes it in
wet weather to be heavy and fish ill-favouredly, and not true; and also
it rots quickly for want of painting: and I think a good top is worth
preserving, or I had not taken care to keep a top above twenty years.
But first for your Line. First note, that you are to take care that your
hair be round and clear, and free from galls, or scabs, or frets: for a
well-chosen, even, clear, round hair, of a kind of glass-colour, will
prove as strong as three uneven scabby hairs that are ill-chosen, and
full of galls or unevenness. You shall seldom find a black hair but it
is round, but many white are flat and uneven; therefore, if you get a
lock of right, round, clear, glass-colour hair, make much of it.
And for making your line, observe this rule: first, let your hair be
clean washed ere you go about to twist it; and then choose not only the
clearest hair for it, but hairs that be of an equal bigness, for such do
usually stretch all together, and break all together, which hairs of an
unequal bigness never do, but break singly, and so deceive the angler
that trusts to them.
When you have twisted your links, lay them in water for a quarter of an
hour at least, and then twist them over again before you tie them into a
line: for those that do not so shall usually find their line to have a
hair or two shrink, and be shorter than the rest, at the first fishing
with it, which is so much of the strength of the line lost for want of
first watering it, and then re-twisting it; and this is most visible in
a seven-hair line, one of those which hath always a black hair in the
middle.
And for dyeing of your hairs, do it thus: take a pint of strong ale,
half a pound of soot, and a little quantity of the juice of walnut-tree
leaves, and an equal quantity of alum: put these together into a pot,
pan, or pipkin, and boil them half an hour; and having so done, let it
cool; and being cold, put your hair into it, and there let it lie; it
will turn your hair to be a kind of water or glass colour, or greenish;
and the longer you let it lie, the deeper coloured it will be. You might
be taught to make many other colours, but it is to little purpose; for
doubtless the water-colour or glass-coloured hair is the most choice and
most useful for an angler, but let it not be too green.
But if you desire to colour hair greener, then do it thus: take a quart
of small ale, half a pound of alum; then put these into a pan or pipkin,
and your hair into it with them; then put it upon a fire, and let it
boil softly for half an hour; and then take out your hair, and let it
dry; and having so done, then take a pottle of water, and put into it
two handfuls of marigolds, and cover it with a tile or what you think
fit, and set it again on the fire, where it is to boil again softly for
half an hour, about which time the scum will turn yellow; then put into
it half a pound of copperas, beaten small, and with it the hair that you
intend to colour; then let the hair be boiled softly till half the
liquor be wasted, and then let it cool three or four hours, with your
hair in it; and you are to observe that the more copperas you put into
it, the greener it will be; but doubtless the pale green is best. But if
you desire yellow hair, which is only good when the weeds rot, then put
in more marigolds; and abate most of the copperas, or leave it quite
out, and take a little verdigris instead of it.
This for colouring your hair.
And as for painting your Rod, which must be in oil, you must first make
a size with glue and water, boiled together until the glue be dissolved,
and the size of a lye-colour: then strike your size upon the wood with a
bristle, or a brush or pencil, whilst it is hot: that being quite dry,
take white-lead, and a little red-lead, and a little coal-black, so much
as altogether will make an ash-colour: grind these altogether with
linseed-oil; let it be thick, and lay it thin upon the wood with a brush
or pencil: this do for the ground of any colour to lie upon wood.
For a green, take pink and verdigris, and grind them together in linseed
oil, as thin as you can well grind it: then lay it smoothly on with your
brush, and drive it thin; once doing, for the most part, will serve, if
you lay it well; and if twice, be sure your first colour be thoroughly
dry before you lay on a second.
Well, Scholar, having now taught you to paint your rod, and we having
still a mile to Tottenham High-Cross, I will, as we walk towards it in
the cool shade of this sweet honeysuckle hedge, mention to you some of
the thoughts and joys that have possessed my soul since we two met
together. And these thoughts shall be told you, that you also may join
with me in thankfulness to the Giver of every good and perfect gift, for
our happiness. And that our present happiness may appear to be the
greater, and we the more thankful for it, I will beg you to consider
with me how many do, even at this very time, lie under the torment of
the stone, the gout, and tooth-ache; and this we are free from. And
every misery that I miss is a new mercy; and therefore let us be
thankful. There have been, since we met, others that have met disasters
or broken limbs; some have been blasted, others thunder-strucken: and we
have been freed from these, and all those many other miseries that
threaten human nature; let us therefore rejoice and be thankful. Nay,
which is a far greater mercy, we are free from the insupportable burthen
of an accusing tormenting conscience; a misery that none can bear: and
therefore let us praise Him for His preventing grace, and say, Every
misery that I miss is a new mercy. Nay, let me tell you, there be many
that have forty times our estates, that would give the greatest part of
it to be healthful and cheerful like us, who, with the expense of a
little money, have eat and drunk, and laughed, and angled, and sung, and
slept securely; and rose next day and cast away care, and sung, and
laughed, and angled again; which are blessings rich men cannot purchase
with all their money. Let me tell you, Scholar, I have a rich neighbour
that is always so busy that he has no leisure to laugh; the whole
business of his life is to get money, and more money, that he may still
get more and more money; he is still drudging on, and says, that Solomon
says "The diligent hand maketh rich"; and it is true indeed: but he
considers not that it is not in the power of riches to make a man happy;
for it was wisely said, by a man of great observation, "that there be as
many miseries beyond riches as on this side of them ". And yet God
deliver us from pinching poverty; and grant, that having a competency,
we may be content and thankful. Let not us repine, or so much as think
the gifts of God unequally dealt, if we see another abound with riches;
when, as God knows, the cares that are the keys that keep those riches
hang often so heavily at the rich man's girdle, that they clog him with
weary days and restless nights, even when others sleep quietly. We see
but the outside of the rich man's happiness: few consider him to be like
the silk-worm, that, when she seems to play, is, at the very same time,
spinning her own bowels, and consuming herself; and this many rich men
do, loading themselves with corroding cares, to keep what they have,
probably, unconscionably got. Let us, therefore, be thankful for health
and a competence; and above all, for a quiet conscience.
Let me tell you, Scholar, that Diogenes walked on a day, with his
friend, to see a country fair; where he saw ribbons, and
looking-glasses, and nutcrackers, and fiddles, and hobby-horses, and
many other gimcracks; and, having observed them, and all the other
finnimbruns that make a complete country-fair, he said to his friend,
"Lord, how many things are there in this world of which Diogenes hath no
need!" And truly it is so, or might be so, with very many who vex and
toil themselves to get what they have no need of. Can any man charge
God, that He hath not given him enough to make his life happy? No,
doubtless; for nature is content with a little. And yet you shall hardly
meet with a man that complains not of some want; though he, indeed,
wants nothing but his will; it may be, nothing but his will of his poor
neighbour, for not worshipping, or not flattering him: and thus, when we
might be happy and quiet, we create trouble to ourselves. I have heard
of a man that was angry with himself because he was no taller; and of a
woman that broke her looking-glass because it would not shew her face to
be as young and handsome as her next neighbour's was. And I knew another
to whom God had given health and plenty; but a wife that nature had made
peevish, and her husband's riches had made purse-proud; and must,
because she was rich, and for no other virtue, sit in the highest pew in
the church; which being denied her, she engaged her husband into a
contention for it, and at last into a law-suit with a dogged neighbour
who was as rich as he, and had a wife as peevish and purse-proud as the
other: and this law-suit begot higher oppositions, and actionable words,
and more vexations and lawsuits; for you must remember that both were
rich, and must therefore have their wills. Well! this wilful,
purse-proud law-suit lasted during the life of the first husband; after
which his wife vext and chid, and chid and vext, till she also chid and
vext herself into her grave: and so the wealth of these poor rich people
was curst into a punishment, because they wanted meek and thankful
hearts; for those only can make us happy. I knew a man that had health
and riches; and several houses, all beautiful, and ready furnished; and
would often trouble himself and family to be removing from one house to
another: and being asked by a friend why he removed so often from one
house to another, replied, "It was to find content in some one of them".
But his friend, knowing his temper, told him, "If he would find content
in any of his houses, he must leave himself behind him; for content will
never dwell but in a meek and quiet soul". And this may appear, if we
read and consider what our Saviour says in St. Matthew's Gospel; for He
there says"Blessed be the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed be the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed be the
poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. And, "Blessed be the
meek, for they shall possess the earth." Not that the meek shall not
also obtain mercy, and see God, and be comforted, and at last come to
the kingdom of heaven: but in the meantime, he, and he only, possesses
the earth, as he goes towards that kingdom of heaven, by being humble
and cheerful, and content with what his good God had allotted him. He
has no turbulent, repining, vexatious thoughts that he deserves better;
nor is vext when he see others possess of more honour or more riches
than his wise God has allotted for his share: but he possesses what he
has with a meek and contented quietness, such a quietness as makes his
very dreams pleasing, both to God and himself.
My honest Scholar, all this is told to incline you to thankfulness; and
to incline you the more, let me tell you, and though the prophet David
was guilty of murder and adultery, and many other of the most deadly
sins, yet he was said to be a man after God's own heart, because he
abounded more with thankfulness that any other that is mentioned in holy
scripture, as may appear in his book of Psalms; where there is such a
commixture, of his confessing of his sins and unworthiness, and such
thankfulness for God's pardon and mercies, as did make him to be
accounted, even by God himself, to be a man after his own heart: and let
us, in that, labour to be as like him as we can; let not the blessings
we receive daily from God make us not to value, or not praise Him,
because they be common; let us not forget to praise Him for the innocent
mirth and pleasure we have met with since we met together. What would a
blind man give to see the pleasant rivers, and meadows, and flowers, and
fountains, that we have met with since we met together? I have been
told, that if a man that was born blind could obtain to have his sight
for but only one hour during his whole life, and should, at the first
opening of his eyes, fix his sight upon the sun when it was in its full
glory, either at the rising or setting of it, he would be so transported
and amazed, and so admire the glory of it, that he would not willingly
turn his eyes from that first ravishing object, to behold all the other
various beauties this world could present to him. And this, and many
other like blessings, we enjoy daily. And for the most of them, because
they be so common, most men forget to pay their praises: but let not us;
because it is a sacrifice so pleasing to Him that made that sun and us,
and still protects us, and gives us flowers, and showers, and stomachs,
and meat, and content, and leisure to go a-fishing.
Well, Scholar, I have almost tired myself, and, I fear, more than almost
tired you. But I now see Tottenham High-Cross; and our short walk
thither shall put a period to my too long discourse; in which my meaning
was, and is, to plant that in your mind with which I labour to possess
my own soul; that is, a meek and thankful heart. And to that end I have
shewed you, that riches without them, do not make any man happy. But let
me tell you, that riches with them remove many fears and cares. And
therefore my advice is, that you endeavour to be honestly rich, or
contentedly poor: but be sure that your riches be justly got, or you
spoil all. For it is well said by Caussin, "He that loses his
conscience has nothing left that is worth keeping". Therefore be sure
you look to that. And, in the next place, look to your health: and if
you have it, praise God, and value it next to a good conscience; for
health is the second blessing that we mortals are capable of; a blessing
that money cannot buy; and therefore value it, and be thankful for it.
As for money, which may be said to be the third blessing, neglect it
not: but note, that there is no necessity of being rich; for I told you,
there be as many miseries beyond riches as on this side them: and if you
have a competence, enjoy it with a meek, cheerful, thankful heart. I
will tell you, Scholar, I have heard a grave Divine say, that God has
two dwellings; one in heaven, and the other in a meek and thankful
heart; which Almighty God grant to me, and to my honest Scholar. And so
you are welcome to Tottenham High-Cross.
Venator. Well, Master, I thank you for all your good directions; but for
none more than this last, of thankfulness, which I hope I shall never
forget. And pray let's now rest ourselves in this sweet shady arbour,
which nature herself has woven with her own fine fingers; 'tis such a
contexture of woodbines, sweetbriar, jasmine, and myrtle; and so
interwoven, as will secure us both from the sun's violent heat, and from
the approaching shower. And being set down, I will requite a part of
your courtesies with a bottle of sack, milk, oranges, and sugar, which,
all put together, make a drink like nectar; indeed, too good for any but
us Anglers, And so, Master, here is a full glass to you of that liquor:
and when you have pledged me, I will repeat the Verses which I promised
you: it is a Copy printed among some of Sir Henry Wotton's, and
doubtless made either by him, or by a lover of angling. Come, Master,
now drink a glass to me, and then I will pledge you, and fall to my
repetition; it is a description of such country recreations as I have
enjoyed since I had the happiness to fall into your company.
Quivering fears, heart-tearing cares,
Anxious sighs, untimely tears,
Fly, fly to courts,
Fly to fond worldlings' sports,
Where strain'd sardonic smiles are glosing still,
And Grief is forc'd to laugh against her will:
Where mirth's but mummery,
And sorrows only real be.
Fly from our country pastimes, fly,
Sad troops of human misery.
Come, serene looks,
Clear as the crystal brooks,
Or the pure azur'd heaven that smiles to see
The rich attendance of our poverty:
Peace and a secure mind,
Which all men seek, we only find.
Abused mortals I did you know
Where joy, heart's-ease, and comforts grow,
You'd scorn proud towers,
And seek them in these bowers;
Where winds, sometimes, our woods perhaps may shake,
But blust'ring care could never tempest make,
Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us,
Saving of fountains that glide by us.
Here's no fantastick mask, nor dance,
But of our kids that frisk and prance;
Nor wars are seen
Unless upon the green
Two harmless lambs are butting one the other,
Which done, both bleating run, each to his mother
And wounds are never found,
Save what the plough-share gives the ground.
Here are no false entrapping baits,
To hasten too, too hasty Fates,
Unless it be
The fond credulity
Of silly fish, which worldling like, still look
Upon the bait, but never on the hook;
Nor envy, unless among
The birds, for prize of their sweet song.
Go, let the diving negro seek
For gems, hid in some forlorn creek:
We all pearls scorn,
Save what the dewy morn
Congeals upon each little spire of grass,
Which careless shepherds beat down as they pass:
And gold ne'er here appears,
Save what the yellow Ceres bears,
Blest silent groves, oh may ye be,
For ever, mirth's best nursery!
May pure contents
For ever pitch their tents
Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these mountains.
And peace still slumber by these purling fountains:
Which we may, every year,
Meet when we come a-fishing here.
Piscator. Trust me, Scholar, I thank you heartily for these Verses: they
be choicely good, and doubtless made by a lover of angling. Come, now,
drink a glass to me, and I will requite you with another very good copy:
it is a farewell to the vanities of the world, and some say written by
Sir Harry Wotton, who I told you was an excellent angler. But let them
be writ by whom they will, he that writ them had a brave soul, and must
needs be possess with happy thoughts at the time of their composure.
Farewell, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles;
Farewell, ye honour'd rags, ye glorious bubbles;
Fame's but a hollow echo, Gold, pure clay;
Honour the darling but of one short day;
Beauty, th' eye's idol, but a damask'd skin;
State, but a golden prison, to live in
And torture free-born minds; embroider'd Trains,
Merely but pageants for proud swelling veins;
And Blood allied to greatness is alone
Inherited, not purchas'd, nor our own.
Fame, Honour, Beauty, State, Train, Blood and Birth,
Are but the fading blossoms of the earth.
I would be great, but that the sun doth still
Level his rays against the rising hill:
I would be high, but see the proudest oak
Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke:
I would be rich, but see men, too unkind
Dig in the bowels of the richest mind:
I would be wise, but that I often see
The fox suspected, whilst the ass goes free:
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud,
Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud:
I would be poor, but know the humble grass
Still trampled on by each unworthy ass:
Rich, hated wise, suspected, scorn'd if poor;
Great, fear'd, fair, tempted, high, still envy'd more.
I have wish'd all, but now I wish for neither.
Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair: poor I'll be rather.
Would the World now adopt me for her heir;
Would beauty's Queen entitle me the fair;
Fame speak me fortune's minion, could I "vie
Angels" with India with a speaking eye
Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike justice dumb,
As well as blind and lame, or give a tongue
To stones by epitaphs, be call'd "great master"
In the loose rhymes of every poetaster?
Could I be more than any man that lives,
Great, fair, rich wise, all in superlatives;
Yet I more freely would these gifts resign
Than ever fortune would have made them mine.
And hold one minute of this holy leisure
Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure.
Welcome, pure thoughts; welcome, ye silent groves;
These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves.
Now the wing'd people of the sky shall sing
My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring:
A pray'r-book, now, shall be my looking-glass,
In which I will adore sweet virtue's face.
Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace cares,
No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-fac'd fears;
Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly,
And learn t' affect an holy melancholy:
And if contentment be a stranger then,
I'll ne'er look for it, but in heaven, again.
Venator. Well, Master, these verses be worthy to keep a room in every
man's memory. I thank you for them; and I thank you for your many
instructions, which, God willing, I will not forget. And as St. Austin,
in his Confessions, commemorates the kindness of his friend Verecundus,
for lending him and his companion a country house, because there they
rested and enjoyed themselves, free from the troubles of the world, so,
having had the like advantage, both by your conversation and the art you
have taught me, I ought ever to do the like; for, indeed, your company
and discourse have been so useful and pleasant, that, I may truly say, I
have only lived since I enjoyed them and turned angler, and not before.
Nevertheless, here I must part with you; here in this now sad place,
where I was so happy as first to meet you: but I shall long for the
ninth of May; for then I hope again to enjoy your beloved company, at
the appointed time and place. And now I wish for some somniferous
potion, that might force me to sleep away the intermitted time, which
will pass away with me as tediously as it does with men in sorrow;
nevertheless I will make it as short as I can, by my hopes and wishes:
and, my good Master, I will not forget the doctrine which you told me
Socrates taught his scholars, that they should not think to be honoured
so much for being philosophers, as to honour philosophy by their
virtuous lives. You advised me to the like concerning Angling, and I
will endeavour to do so; and to live like those many worthy men, of
which you made mention in the former part of your discourse. This is my
firm resolution. And as a pious man advised his friend, that, to beget
mortification, he should frequent churches, and view monuments, and
charnel-houses, and then and there consider how many dead bodies time
had piled up at the gates of death, so when I would beget content, and
increase confidence in the power, and wisdom, and providence of Almighty
God, I will walk the meadows, by some gliding stream, and there
contemplate the lilies that take no care, and those very many other
various little living creatures that are not only created, but fed, man
knows not how, by the goodness of the God of Nature, and therefore trust
in him. This is my purpose; and so, let everything that hath breath
praise the Lord: and let the blessing of St. Peter's Master be with
mine.
Piscator. And upon all that are lovers of virtue; and dare trust in his
providence; and be quiet; and go a-Angling.
"Study to be quiet."