That an ex-president (Sir Humphry Davy) of the Royal Society should
write a book on field sports may at first sight appear rather
_unphilosophical_; although it is not more fanciful than Bishop
Berkeley's volume on tar water, Bishop Watson's improvement in the
manufacture of gunpowder, Sir Walter Scott writing a sermon, or a Scotch
minister inventing a safety gun, and, as we are told, _presenting_ the
same to the King in person. Be this as it may, since our first
acquaintance with the "prince of piscators," the patriarch of anglers,
Isaak Walton, it has seldom been our lot to meet with so pleasant a
volume as _Salmonia, or Days of Fly Fishing_, to whose contents we are
about to introduce our readers.
In our last number we gave a _flying_ extract, entitled, "Superstitions
on the Weather," being a fair specimen of the very agreeable manner of
the digressions in the above work, which is, perhaps, less practical
than it might have been; but this defect is more than atoned for in the
author's felicitous mode of intermingling with the main subject, some of
the most curious facts and phenomena in natural history and philosophy
so as to familiarize the angler with many causes and effects which
altogether belong to a higher class of reading than that of mere
amusement. All this, too, is done in a simple, graceful, and flowing
style, always amusive, and sometimes humorously illustrative--advantages
which our philosophical writers do not generally exhibit, but which are
more or less evident in every page of Sir Humphry Davy's writings.
_Salmonia_ consists of a series of conversations between four
characters--Halieus,[3] Poietes, Physicus, Ornither. In the "First Day"
we have an ingenious vindication of fly fishing against the well-known
satire of Johnson[4] and Lord Byron, and the following:--
_Halieus._--A noble lady, long distinguished at court for pre-eminent
beauty and grace, and whose mind possesses undying charms, has written
some lines in my copy of Walton, which, if you will allow me, I will
repeat to you:--
Albeit, gentle Angler, I
Delight not in thy trade,
Yet in thy pages there doth lie
So much of quaint simplicity,
So much of mind,
Of such good kind.
That none need be afraid,
Caught by thy cunning bait, this book,
To be ensnared on thy hook.
Gladly from thee, I'm lur'd to bear
With things that seem'd most vile before,
For thou didst on poor subjects rear
Matter the wisest sage might hear.
And with a grace,
That doth efface
More laboured works, thy simple lore
Can teach us that thy skilful _lines_,
More than the scaly brood _confines_.
Our hearts and senses too, we see,
Rise quickly at thy master hand,
And ready to be caught by thee
Are lured to virtue willingly.
Content and peace,
With health and ease,
Walk by thy side. At thy command
We bid adieu to worldly care.
And joy in gifts that all may share.
Gladly with thee, I pace along.
And of sweet fancies dream;
Waiting till some inspired song,
Within my memory cherished long,
Comes fairer forth.
With more of worth;
Because that time upon its stream
Feathers and chaff will bear away,
But give to gems a brighter ray.
And though the charming and intellectual author of this poem is not an
angler herself, yet I can quote the example of her lovely daughters to
vindicate fly fishing from the charge of cruelty, and to prove that the
most delicate and refined minds can take pleasure in this innocent
amusement.
Gay's passionate love for angling is well known; it was his principal
occupation in the summer at Amesbury; and "the late excellent John
Tobin, author of the _Honey Moon_, was an ardent angler." Among heroes,
Trajan was fond of angling. Nelson was a good fly-fisher, and continued
the pursuit even with his left hand; and, says the author, "I have known
a person who fished with him at Merton, in the Wandle. Dr. Paley was so
much attached to this amusement, that when the Bishop of Durham inquired
of him when one of his most important works would be finished, he said,
with great simplicity and good-humour, 'My lord, I shall work steadily
at it when the fly-fishing season is over.'"--Then we have a poetical
description of river scenery, till two of the party arrive at the
following conclusions:--
I have already admitted the danger of analyzing, too closely, the moral
character of any of our field sports; yet I think it cannot be doubted
that the nervous system of fish, and cold-blooded animals in general, is
less sensitive than that of warm-blooded animals. The hook usually is
fixed in the cartilaginous part of the mouth, where there are no nerves;
and a proof that the sufferings of a hooked fish cannot be great is
found in the circumstance, that though a trout has been hooked and
played for some minutes, he will often, after his escape with the
artificial fly in his mouth, take the natural fly, and feed as if
nothing had happened; having apparently learnt only from the experiment,
that the artificial fly is not proper for food. And I have caught pikes
with four or five hooks in their mouths, and tackle which they had
broken only a few minutes before; and the hooks seemed to have had no
other effect than that of serving as a sort of _sauce piquante_, urging
them to seize another morsel of the same kind.--The advocates for a
favourite pursuit never want sophisms to defend it. I have even heard it
asserted, that a hare enjoys being hunted. Yet I will allow that
fly-fishing, after your vindication, appears amongst the least cruel of
field sports.
We must, however, confine ourselves to a few colloquial extracts from
the _practical_ portion of the volume; as
_Flies on the Wandle, &c._
_Orn._--Surely the May-fly season is not the only season for day-fishing
in this river? [the Wandle.]--_Hal._ Certainly not. There are as many
fish to be taken, perhaps, in the spring fishing; but in this deep river
they are seldom in good season till the May-fly has been on, and a
fortnight hence they will be still better than even now. In September
there may be good fish taken here; but the autumnal flies are less
plentiful in this river than the spring flies--_Phys_, Pray tell me what
are the species of fly which take in these two seasons.--_Hal_. You know
that trout spawn or deposit their ova, &c. in the end of the autumn or
beginning of winter, from the middle of November till the beginning of
January, their maturity depending upon the temperature of the season,
their quantity of food, &c. They are at least six weeks or two months
after they have spawned before they recover their flesh; and the time
when these fish are at the worst, is likewise the worst time for
fly-fishing, both on account of the cold weather, and because there are
fewer flies on the water than at any other season. Even in December and
January there are a few small gnats or water-flies on the water in the
middle of the day, in bright days, or when there is sunshine. These are
generally black, and they escape the influence of the frost by the
effects of light on their black bodies, and probably by the extreme
rapidity of the motions of their fluids, and generally of their organs.
They are found only at the surface of the water, where the temperature
must be above the freezing point. In February a few double-winged
water-flies, which swim down the stream, are usually found in the middle
of the day, such as the willow-fly; and the cow-dung-fly is sometimes
carried on the water by winds. In March there are several flies found on
most rivers. The grannam, or green-tail-fly, with a wing like a moth,
comes on generally morning and evening, from five till eight o'clock,
A.M. in mild weather, in the end of March and through April. Then there
are the blue and the brown, both ephemerae, which come on, the first in
dark days, the second in bright days; these flies, when well imitated,
are very destructive to fish. The first is a small fly, with a palish
yellow body, and slender, beautiful wings, which rest on the back as it
floats down the water. The second, called the cob in Wales, is three or
four times as large, and has brown wings, which likewise protrude from
the back, and its wings are shaded like those of a partridge, brown and
yellow brown. These three kinds of flies lay their eggs in the water,
which produce larvae that remain in the state of worms, feeding and
breathing in the water till they are prepared for their metamorphosis,
and quit the bottoms of the rivers, and the mud and stones, for the
surface, and light and air. The brown fly usually disappears before the
end of April, likewise the grannam; but of the blue dun there is a
succession of different tints, or species, or varieties, which appear in
the middle of the day all the summer and autumn long. These are the
principal flies on the Wandle--the best and clearest stream near London.
In early spring these flies have dark olive bodies; in the end of April
and the beginning of May they are found yellow; and in the summer they
become cinnamon coloured; and again, as the winter approaches, gain a
darker hue. I do not, however, mean to say that they are the same flies,
but more probably successive generations of ephemerae of the same
species. The excess of heat seems equally unfavourable, as the excess of
cold, to the existence of the smaller species of water-insects, which,
during the intensity of sunshine, seldom appear in summer, but rise
morning and evening only. The blue dun has, in June and July, a yellow
body; and there is a water-fly which, in the evening, is generally found
before the moths appear, called the red spinner. Towards the end of
August, the ephemerae appear again in the middle of the day--a very
pale, small ephemera, which is of the same colour as that which is seen
in some rivers in the beginning of July. In September and October this
kind of fly is found with an olive body, and it becomes darker in
October and paler in November. There are two other flies which appear in
the end of September and continue during October, if the weather be
mild; a large yellow fly, with a fleshy body, and wings like a moth; and
a small fly with four wings, with a dark or claret coloured body, that
when it falls on the water has its wings like the great yellow fly, flat
on its back. This, or a claret bodied fly, very similar in character,
may be likewise found in March or April, on some waters. In this river I
have often caught many large trout in April and the beginning of May,
with the blue dun, having the yellow body; and in the upper part of the
stream below St. Albans, and between that and Watford, I have sometimes,
even as early as April, caught fish in good condition; but the _true_
season for the Colne is the season of the May-fly. The same may be said
of most of the large English rivers containing large trouts, and
abounding in May-fly--such as the Test and the Kennett, the one running
by Stockbridge, the other by Hungerford. But in the Wandle, at
Carshalton and Beddington, the May-fly is not found; and the little
blues are the constant, and, when well imitated, killing flies on this
water; to which may be joined a dark alder-fly, and a red evening fly.
In the Avon, at Ringwood and Fordingbridge, the May-fly is likewise a
killing fly; but as this is a grayling river, the other flies,
particularly the grannam and blue and brown, are good in spring, and the
alder-fly or pale blue later, and the blue dun in September and October,
and even November. In the streams in the mountainous parts of Britain,
the spring and autumnal flies are by far the most killing. The Usk was
formerly a very productive trout-stream, and the fish being well fed by
the worms washed down by the winter floods, were often in good season,
cutting red, in March and the beginning of April: and at this season the
blues and browns, particularly when the water was a little stained after
a small flood, afforded the angler good sport. In Herefordshire and
Derbyshire, where trout and grayling are often found together, the same
periods are generally best for angling; but in the Dove, Lathkill, and
Wye, with the natural May-fly many fish may be taken; and in old times,
in peculiarly windy days, or high and troubled water, even the
artificial May-fly, according to Cotton, was very killing.
Here we must end, at least _for the present_; but there is so much
anecdotical pleasantry in _Salmonia_ that we might continue our extracts
through many columns, and we are persuaded, to the gratification of the
majority of our readers. Even when we announced the publication of this
work a few weeks since, we were led to anticipate the delight it would
afford many of our esteemed correspondents, especially our friend
_W.H.H._, who has "caught about forty trout in two or three hours" in
the rocky basins of Pot-beck, &c.[5]
Sir Humphry Davy mentions the Wandle in Surrey, as we have quoted; but
he does not allude to the trout-fishing in the Mole, in the Vale of
Leatherhead in the same county. There are in the course of the work a
few expressions which make humanity shudder, and would drive a
Pythagorean to madness,[6] notwithstanding the ingenuity with which the
author attempts to vindicate his favourite amusement.
* * * * *