THE game laws have for ages past been a miserable source of contention
between those rendered unqualified by severe and even cruel game laws,
and parties who had influence to get these laws enacted for their own
exclusive privilege of killing the game. To convince the intelligent
poor man that the fowls of the air were created only for the rich is
impossible, and will for ever remain so. If it be pleaded that, because
the game are fed on the lands of the latter, they have the exclusive
right to them, this would appear to be carrying the notions of the
sacredness of property too far; for even this ought to have its bounds;
but were this conceded, as property is enjoyed by a rental, and as the
farmers feed the game, they would appear to belong to them more properly
than to any one else. I own I feel great repugnance in saying anything
that might have a tendency to curtail the healthy enjoyments of the
country gentleman, in his field sports, which his fortune and his
leisure enable him so appropriately to pursue; at the same time it is
greatly to be regretted that anything—any over-stretched
distinctions—should ever happen to make a breach between the poor and
the rich. It is, however, to be wished that the unqualified man may find
his attention engaged, and his mind excited in some other way (or by his
business) than that of becoming a poacher. The strange propensity,
however unaccountable, in almost all men TO KILL, and the pleasurable
excitement to do so, is equally strong in the poacher as in the
gentleman sportsman. This excitement, or an extreme desire to exhilarate
the spirits, and to give them energy, as well as pleasure, pervades more
or less, the minds of all mankind, and shows itself in every species of
gambling, from cock-fighting, dog and man fighting, hunting,
horse-racing, and even up to the acme of excitement—or excitement run
mad—that of horrid war. I wish something more rational and better could
be contrived to whet the mind and to rouse its energies; for certain it
is that “the heart that never tastes pleasure shuts up, grows stiff, and
incapable of enjoyment.” The minds of men ought therefore, to be unbent
at certain times,—especially in some constitutions,—to prevent their
becoming nerveless and hypochondriacal, the worst of all diseases, in
which the mind sees everything with an obliquity of intellect, and
creates numberless cruel and imaginary evils which continually surround
and embarrass it. Only let a man who cannot employ himself with some
hobby or other know that he is provided for, and has nothing to do, and
it will soon be seen how _ennui_, with benumbing steps, will thrust
itself upon him, and what a stupid and unhappy being he is.
If I have reasoned correctly in the foregoing observations, it is, then,
desirable that sports and pastimes should be resorted to that might, in
many cases, turn out to public good. For this purpose, I have often
thought that small sums might be subscribed and collected to be given as
a prize to the best shot at a mark. The utility and national purpose of
this scheme may at some time be felt; for, so long as surrounding
despots can gather together immense mercenary armies, they ought to be
effectually guarded against, and they certainly might be as effectually
checked by hundreds of thousands of riflemen, (including the militia),
thus trained for the defence of the kingdom, at a comparatively small
expense. They might have their bullets made of baked clay, which would
probably be as efficient as those made of lead, and cost almost nothing.
The last subject I shall notice, as being kept up by unequal and unjust
laws, is the fisheries, throughout the kingdom. The laws made respecting
them originated in the times of feudal tyranny, when “might was right,”
and everything was carried with a high hand. It was then easy for an
overbearing aristocracy, by their influence, to get grants and charters
made entirely on their own behalf. The rights of the community were set
at nought, or were treated with contempt. But those days are passed
away; the march of intellect is spreading over the world; and all public
matters are now viewed with feelings of a very different kind than when
such laws were made, and which ought to have been repealed long since;
but they are still in force, and will continue so as long as the potent
feelings of over-stretched self-interest are allowed to guide those who
have the power to keep the grasp of this their antiquated hold: for such
can hear no reason against their private interest, however unanswerable
it may be. No reasonable plea can ever be set up, to show that the fish
of rivers ought to be the private property of any one. Can it be
pretended that because a river or a rivulet, passes through an estate,
whether the owner of it will or not, that the fish which breed in it, or
which live in it, ought to be his? They are not like the game, which are
all fed by the farmer, for fish cost nobody anything; therefore, in
common justice, they ought to belong to the public, and ought to be
preserved for the public good, in every county through which the rivers
pass, and be let at a rental from the clerk of the peace, and the money
arising therefrom applied to making bridges and roads, or for county or
other rates. Stewards ought to be appointed to receive the rents, and a
committee of auditors elected annually, by ballot, as a check upon the
management of the whole. If the fisheries were not thus rented, the
public would derive little benefit from such an immense supply of food;
for without they were thus disposed of each county would soon be
over-run with such numbers of poachers as would become intolerable. All
this, however, ought to be well considered; for, notwithstanding the
selfish principle which dictated the original grants of the
fisheries,—long since obtained,—the present possessors are not to blame,
and suddenly to deprive any man of what he has been accustomed to
receive may be deemed a harsh measure, and in some cases a cruel one;
therefore some equitable sum should be paid to the owners at once, as a
remuneration in lieu of all future claims; as fish ought not to be
considered as an inheritance to descend to the heirs of any one.
From about the year 1760 to ’67, when a boy, I was frequently sent by my
parents to purchase a salmon from the fishers of the “strike” at
Eltringham ford. At that time, I never paid more, and often less, than
three halfpence per pound (mostly a heavy, guessed weight, about which
they were not exact). Before, or perhaps about this time, there had
always been an article inserted in every indenture in Newcastle, that
the apprentice was not to be obliged to eat salmon above twice a week,
and the like bargain was made upon hiring ordinary servants. It need not
be added that the _salmo_ tribe then teemed in abundance in the Tyne,
and there can be little doubt that the same immense numbers would return
to it again were proper measures pursued to facilitate their passage
from the sea to breed. All animals, excepting fish, only increase, but
they multiply, and that in so extraordinary a degree as to set all
calculation at defiance. It is well known that they ascend every river,
rivulet, and burn, in search of proper places to deposit their spawn;
and this is the case both with those kinds which quit the sea, and those
which never leave the fresh water. In their thus instinctively searching
for proper spawning places, they make their way up to such shallows as
one would think it impossible for any animal wanting legs and feet ever
to crawl up to; therefore every improper weir or dam that obstructs
their free passage ought to be thrown down, as they are one great cause
of the salmon quitting the proper spawning places in the river, to
return to spawn in the sea as well as they can; where, it is fair to
conclude, their fry, or their roe, are swallowed up by other fish, as
soon as they, or it, are spread abroad along the shores.
It will readily be perceived, that the fishers’ weirs are made chiefly
with a view of preventing their neighbour fishers from coming in for
their due share; but, were the fisheries let, as before named, the
different fishing places would then be planned out by the stewards, as
well as remedying other faults with an impartial hand. There are,
besides weirs and dams, other causes which occasion the falling off of
the breed of salmon, by greatly preventing them from entering and making
their way up rivers for the purpose of spawning. They have a great
aversion to passing through impure water, and even snow-water stops
them; for they will lie still, and wait until it runs off. The filth of
manufactories is also very injurious, as well as the refuse which is
washed off the uncleaned streets of large towns by heavy rains. Were
this filth in all cases led away and laid on the land, it would be of
great value to the farmer, and persons should be appointed to do that
duty, not in a slovenly or lazy manner, but with punctuality and
despatch. In this the health and comfort of the inhabitants of towns
ought to be considered as of great importance to them, as well as that
of keeping the river as pure as possible on account of the fish.
Should the evils attendant upon weirs and dams, and other matters, be
rectified, then the next necessary step to be taken should be the
appointment of river conservators and vigilant guards to protect the
kipper, or spawning fish, from being killed while they are in this
sickly and imbecile state. They are then so easily caught, that,
notwithstanding they are very unwholesome as food, very great numbers
are taken in the night, which are eaten by poor people, who do not know
how pernicious they are. But, should all these measures be found not
fully to answer public expectation, the time now allowed for fishing
might be shortened, and in some years, if ever found necessary, the
fishing might be laid in for a season.
The next important question for consideration, is respecting what can be
done to prevent the destruction of salmon on their first entering a
river, and while they are in full perfection, by their most powerful and
most conspicuously destructive enemy, the porpoise.
I have seen a shoal of porpoises, off Tynemouth, swimming abreast of
each other, and thus occupying a space of apparently more than a hundred
yards from the shore, seawards, and crossing the mouth of the river, so
that no salmon could enter it. They went backward and forward for more
than a mile, along shore, and with such surprising rapidity that, in
their course, they caused a foam to arise, like the breakers of the sea
in a storm. Might not a couple of steam packets, with strong nets, sweep
on shore hundreds of these at a time? Perhaps by giving premiums for
catching them they might be greatly thinned, and their tough skins be
tanned, or otherwise prepared, so as to be applied to some use. Oil
might be obtained partly to pay for the trouble of taking this kind of
fish; and, lastly, they might be used as an article of food. They were
eaten formerly even by the gentry: and why not make the attempt to apply
them to that purpose again? Perhaps, by pickling or drying them, and by
other aids of cookery, they might prove good and wholesome; for every
animal in season is so, which, when out of season, is quite the reverse.
If the parent fishes of the _salmo_ tribe were protected, the fry would
soon be seen to swarm in incredible numbers, and perhaps a pair of them
would spawn more than all the anglers from the source to the mouth of
any river could fairly catch in one season. Having from a boy been an
angler, it is with feelings painfully rankling in my mind that I live in
dread (from hints already given) of this recreation being abridged or
stopped. Angling has from time immemorial been followed, and ought to be
indulged in unchecked by arbitrary laws, as the birthright of everyone,
but particularly of the sedentary and the studious. It is cruel to think
of debarring the fair angler, by any checks whatever; the salmon fishers
may, indeed, begrudge to see such fill his creel with a few scores of
the fry; because what is taken might in a short time return to them as
full-grown salmon (for all fish, as well as birds, return to the same
places where they were bred); but, for reasons before named, this
selfishness should not be attended to for a moment, and the fisheries
ought to be taken subject to this kind of toll or imaginary grievance.
I have always felt extremely disgusted at what is called preserved
waters (except fish ponds); that is, where the fish in these waters are
claimed exclusively as private property. The disposition which sets up
claims of this kind is the same as would—if it could—sell the sea, and
the use of the sun and the rain. Here the angler is debarred by the
surly, selfish owner of the adjoining land, the pleasure of enjoying the
most healthful and comparatively the most innocent of all diversions. It
unbends the minds of the sedentary and the studious, whether it may be
those employed at their desks, or “the pale artist plying his sickly
trade,” and enables such to return to their avocations, or their
studies, with renovated energy, to labour for their own or for the
public good. But as any thing, however good in itself, may be abused,
therefore some regulations should be laid down as a guide to the fair
angler in this his legitimate right, and some check imposed upon the
poacher, who might be inclined to stop at nothing, however unfair. I
think Waltonian societies would be all-sufficient to manage these
matters, if composed of men of good character and good sense. There
ought to be one of these societies established in the principal town in
each district, and to have its honorary members branched out into the
more distant parts. Perhaps a fine imposed, or even the frowns of the
society, might be sufficient to deter poachers. The object ought to be,
to regulate the times for angling, and to discountenance, or send to
Coventry, such as spend almost the whole of their time in “beating the
streams.” They ought also to keep a watchful eye over such as care not
how or in what manner they take fish, so as they may only get plenty of
them. The “Honourable Society of Waltonians” ought to use every means in
their power to protect the “glittering inhabitants of the waters” from
being unfairly taken or destroyed. Pought nets ought to be prohibited,
as well as all catching of the salmon fry in mill races, by putting
thorn bushes into them, to stop their passing through, and then letting
off the water. In this way, a cart load of these have often been known
to be taken at once. Another method, still more destructive than this,
is far too often put in practice; that is, what is called liming the
burns. This ought to be utterly put a stop to by severe punishments. A
clown, from ignorance,—but, perhaps, from something worse,—puts a few
clots of unslaked, or quick, lime into a pool, or hole, in a burn, for
the sake of killing a few trouts that he sees in it; and thus poisons
the water running down to the rivulet, or the river, destroying every
living creature to such a distance as may seem incredible. The attentive
angler must sometimes have observed the almost invisible, incipient,
living spawn in thousands, appearing only like floating mud, sunning
themselves on a shallow sand-bank, which, as soon as the water thus
poisoned reaches them, they drop down like mud indeed, and are no more
seen.
How vividly do recollections of the enjoyment angling has afforded me
return to the mind, now when those days have passed away, never more to
return. Like the pleasing volume of the patriarch of anglers—Izaac
Walton—volumes might yet be written to point out and to depicture the
beautiful scenery of woods and water sides, in the midst of which the
pleasures attendant upon this exhilarating and health-restoring, hungry,
exercise is pursued. How many narratives of the exploits of the days
thus spent might be raked up to dwell upon, when they are all over, like
a pleasing dream!
Well do I remember mounting the stile which gave the first peep of the
curling or rapid stream, over the intervening, dewy, daisy-covered
holme—boundered by the early sloe, and the hawthorn-blossomed hedge—and
hung in succession with festoons of the wild rose, the tangling
woodbine, and the bramble, with their bewitching foliage—and the fairy
ground—and the enchanting music of the lark, the blackbird, the
throstle, and the blackcap, rendered soothing and plaintive by the
cooings of the ringdove, which altogether charmed, but perhaps retarded,
the march to the brink of the scene of action, with its willows, its
alders, or its sallows—where early I commenced the days’ patient
campaign. The pleasing excitements of the angler still follow him,
whether he is engaged in his pursuits amidst scenery such as I have
attempted to describe, or on the heathery moor, or by burns guttered out
by mountain torrents, and boundered by rocks or grey moss-covered
stones, which form the rapids and the pools in which is concealed his
beautiful yellow and spotted prey. Here, when tired and alone, I used to
open my wallet and dine on cold meat and coarse rye bread, with an
appetite that made me smile at the trouble people put themselves to in
preparing the sumptuous feast; the only music in attendance was perhaps
the murmuring burn, the whistling cry of the curlew, the solitary water
ouzel, or the whirring wing of the moor game. I would, however,
recommend to anglers not to go alone; a trio of them is better, and
mutual assistance is often necessary.
It is foreign to my purpose to give any history, in this place, of the
various kinds of fishes which anglers pursue; of this there is no need,
for, I think, more treatises on this subject than on any other have been
printed, to direct the angler to perfection in his art. But I cannot
help noticing, as matter of regret, that more pains have not been taken
to multiply fish, and to increase the breed of eels, as every permanent
pool might so easily be fully stocked with them; and the latter are,
when properly cooked, the most delicious of all fish kind. Walton has
been particular in describing his mode of cooking them; but, unless he
killed them beforehand, his method is a very cruel one.
In thus dwelling on subjects which stimulate man eagerly to pursue the
work of destruction, and to extend his power over those animals of which
he considers himself as the lord and master, and that they are destined
to contribute to his pleasures or to his support, yet he ought not
totally to forget that what is sport to him is death to them, and that
the less of cruelty the better.
I think, had I not begun so early to be an angler, and before feelings
of tenderness had entered the mind, my eagerness for angling might have
been, on this score, somewhat abated; but I argued myself into a belief
that fish had little sense, and scarcely any feeling, and they certainly
have very much less of either than any of the land animals; but we see
through all nature that one kind of animal seems destined to prey upon
another, and fishes are the most voracious of all.
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