The Complete Angler
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Izaak Walton >> The Complete Angler
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Now the next thing that I will commend to your consideration is, that
the Trout is of a more sudden growth than other fish. Concerning
which, you are also to take notice, that he lives not so long as the
Pearch, and divers other fishes do, as Sir Francis Bacon hath observed
in his History of Life and Death.
And next you are to take notice, that he is not like the Crocodile, which
if he lives never so long, vet always thrives till his death: but 'tis not so
with the Trout; for after he is come to his full growth, he declines in his
body, and keeps his bigness, or thrives only in his head till his death.
And you are to know, that he will, about, especially before, the time of
his spawning, get, almost miraculously, through weirs and flood-gates,
against the stream; even through such high and swift places as is almost
incredible. Next, that the Trout usually spawns about October or
November, but in some rivers a little sooner or later; which is the more
observable, because most other fish spawn in the spring or summer,
when the sun hath warmed both the earth and water, and made it fit for
generation. And you are to note, that he continues many months out of
season; for it may be observed of the Trout, that he is like the Buck or
the Ox, that will not be fat in many months, though he go in the very
same pastures that horses do, which will be fat in one month: and so
you may observe, That most other fishes recover strength, and grow
sooner fat and in season than the Trout doth.
And next you are to note, That till the sun gets to such a height as to
warm the earth and the water, the Trout is sick, and lean, and lousy, and
unwholesome; for you shall, in winter, find him to have a big head, and,
then, to be lank and thin and lean; at which time many of them have
sticking on them Sugs, or Trout-lice; which is a kind of a worm, in
shape like a clove, or pin with a big head, and sticks close to him, and
sucks his moisture, those, I think, the Trout breeds himself: and never
thrives till he free himself from them, which is when warm weather
comes; and, then, as he grows stronger, he gets from the dead still water
into the sharp streams and the gravel, and, there, rubs off these worms
or lice; and then, as he grows stronger, so he gets him into swifter and
swifter streams, and there lies at the watch for any fly or minnow that
comes near to him; and he especially loves the May-fly, which is bred
of the cod-worm, or cadis; and these make the Trout bold and lusty, and
he is usually fatter and better meat at the end of that month than at any
time of the year.
Now you are to know that it is observed, that usually the best Trouts are
either red or yellow; though some, as the Fordidge Trout, be white and
yet good; but that is not usual: and it is a note observable, that the
female Trout hath usually a less head, and a deeper body than the male
Trout, and is usually the better meat. And note, that a hog back and a
little head, to either Trout, Salmon or any other fish, is a sign that that
fish is in season.
But yet you are to note, that as you see some willows or palm-trees bud
and blossom sooner than others do, so some Trouts be, in rivers, sooner
in season: and as some hollies, or oaks, are longer before they cast their
leaves, so are some Trouts, in rivers, longer before they go out of
season.
And you are to note, that there are several kinds of Trouts: but these
several kinds are not considered but by very few men; for they go under
the general name of Trouts; just as pigeons do, in most places; though it
is certain, there are tame and wild pigeons; and of the tame, there be
hermits and runts, and carriers and cropers, and indeed too many to
name. Nay, the Royal Society have found and published lately, that
there be thirty and three kinds of spiders; and yet all, for aught I know,
go under that one general name of spider. And it is so with many kinds
of fish, and of Trouts especially; which differ in their bigness, and
shape, and spots, and colour. The great Kentish hens may be an
instance, compared to other hens: and, doubtless, there is a kind of
small Trout, which will never thrive to be big; that breeds very many
more than others do, that be of a larger size: which you may rasher
believe, if you consider that the little wren end titmouse will have
twenty young ones at a time, when, usually, the noble hawk, or the
musical thrassel or blackbird, exceed not four or five.
And now you shall see me try my skill to catch a Trout; and at my next
walking, either this evening or to-morrow morning, I will give you
direction how you yourself shall fish for him.
Venator. Trust me, master, I see now it is a harder matter to catch a
Trout than a Chub; for I have put on patience, and followed you these
two hours, and not seen a fish stir, neither at your minnow nor your
worm.
Piscator. Well, scholar, you must endure worse luck sometime, or you
will never make a good angler. But what say you now? there is a Trout
now, and a good one too, if I can but hold him; and two or three turns
more will tire him. Now you see he lies still, and the sleight is to land
him: reach me that landing-net. So, Sir, now he is mine own: what say
you now, is not this worth all my labour and your patience?
Venator. On my word, master, this is a gallant Trout; what shall we do
with him?
Piscator. Marry, e en eat him to supper: we'll go to my hostess from
whence we came; she told me, as I was going out of door, that my
brother Peter, a good angler and a cheerful companion, had sent word
he would lodge there to-night, and bring a friend with him. My hostess
has two beds, and I know you and I may have the best: we'll rejoice
with my brother Peter and his friend, tell tales, or sing ballads, or make
a catch, or find some harmless sport to content us, and pass away a little
time without offence to God or man.
Venator. A match, good master, let's go to that house, for the linen
looks white, and smells of lavender, and I long to lie in a pair of sheets
that smell so. Let's be going, good master, for I am hungry again with
fishing.
Piscator. Nay, stay a little, good scholar. I caught my last Trout with a
worm; now I will put on a minnow, and try a quarter of an hour about
yonder trees for another; and, so, walk towards our lodging. Look you,
scholar, thereabout we shall have a bite presently, or not at all. Have
with you, Sir: o' my word I have hold of him. Oh! it is a great logger-
headed Chub; come, hang him upon that willow twig, and let's be
going. But turn out of the way a little, good scholar! toward yonder high
honeysuckle hedge; there we'll sit and sing whilst this shower falls so
gently upon the teeming earth, and gives yet a sweeter smell to the
lovely flowers that adorn these verdant meadows.
Look ! under that broad beech-tree I sat down, when I was last this way
a-fishing; and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly
contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow
tree near to the brow of that primrose-hill. There I sat viewing the silver
streams glide silently towards their centre, the tempestuous sea; yet
sometimes opposed by rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke
their waves, and turned them into foam; and sometimes I beguiled time
by viewing the harmless lambs; some leaping securely in the cool
shade, whilst others sported themselves in the cheerful sun; and saw
others craving comfort from the swollen udders of their bleating dams.
As I thus sat, these and other sights had so fully possess my soul with
content, that I thought, as the poet has happily express it,
I was for that time lifted above earth:
And possest joys not promis'd in my birth.
As I left this place, and entered into the next field, a second pleasure
entertained me; 'twas a handsome milk-maid, that had not yet attained
so much age and wisdom as to load her mind with any fears of many
things that will never be, as too many men too often do; but she cast
away all care, and sung like a nightingale. Her voice was good, and the
ditty fitted for it; it was that smooth song which was made by Kit
Marlow, now at least fifty years ago; and the milk-maid's mother sung
an answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh, in his younger
days. They were old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good; I think much
better than the strong lines that are now in fashion in this critical age.
Look yonder! on my word, yonder, they both be a-milking again. I will
give her the Chub, and persuade them to sing those two songs to us.
God speed you, good woman! I have been a-fishing; and am going to
Bleak Hall to my bed; and having caught more fish than will sup myself
and my friend, I will bestow this upon you and your daughter, for I use
to sell none.
Milk-woman. Marry! God requite you, Sir, and we'll eat it cheerfully.
And if you come this way a-fishing two months hence, a grace of God!
I'll give you a syllabub of new verjuice, in a new-made hay-cock, for it.
And my Maudlin shall sing you one of her best ballads; for she and I
both love all anglers, they be such honest, civil, quiet men. In the
meantime will you drink a draught of red cow's milk ? you shall have it
freely.
Piscator. No, I thank you; but, I pray, do us a courtesy that shall stand
you and your daughter in nothing, and yet we will think ourselves still
something in your debt: it is but to sing us a song that was sung by your
daughter when I last passed over this meadow, about eight or nine days
since.
Milk-woman. What song was it, I pray? Was it, " Come, Shepherds,
deck your herds " ? or, " As at noon Dulcina rested " ? or, " Phillida
flouts me " ? or, " Chevy Chace " ? or, " Johnny Armstrong " ? or, "
Troy Town " ?
Piscator. No, it is none of those; it is a Song that your daughter sung the
first part, and you sung the answer to it.
Milk-woman. O, I know it now. I learned the first part in my golden
age, when I was about the age of my poor daughter; and the latter part,
which indeed fits me best now, but two or three years ago, when the
cares of the world began to take hold of me: but you shall, God willing,
hear them both; and sung as well as we can, for we both love anglers.
Come, Maudlin, sing the first part to the gentlemen, with a merry heart;
and I'll sing the second when you have done.
The Milk-maid's song.
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, or hills, or fields,
Or woods, and steepy mountains yields;
Where we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed our flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses;
And, then, a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull
Slippers, lin'd choicely for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy-buds,
With coral clasps, and amber studs.
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come, live with me, and be my love,
Thy silver dishes, for thy meat
As precious as the Gods do eat
Shall, on an ivory table, be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight, each May morning.
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
Venator. Trust me, master, it is a choice song, and sweetly sung by
honest Maudlin. I now see it was not without cause that our good queen
Elizabeth did so often wish herself a milk-maid all the month of May,
because they are not troubled with fears and cares, but sing sweetly all
the day, and sleep securely all the night: and without doubt, honest,
innocent, pretty Maudlin does so. I'll bestow Sir Thomas Overbury's
milk-maid's wish upon her, "that she may die in the Spring; and, being
dead, may have good store of flowers stuck round about her winding-
sheet " .
The Milk-maid's mother's answer
If all the world and love were young
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
But Time drives flocks from field to fold.
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold
Then Philomel becometh dumb
And age complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields.
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring but sorrow's fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten;
In folly rise. in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps, and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy love.
What should we talk of dainties, then,
Of better meat than's fit for men ?
These are but vain: that's only good
Which God hath blessed and sent for food.
But could youth last, and love still breed;
Had joys no date, nor age no need;
Then those delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Mother. Well! I have done my song. But stay, honest anglers; for I will
make Maudlin sing you one short song more. Maudlin ! sing that song
that you sung last night, when young Coridon the shepherd played so
purely on his oaten pipe to you and your cousin Betty.
Maudlin. I will, mother.
I married a wife of late,
The more's my unhappy fate:
I married her for love,
As my fancy did me move,
And not for a worldly estate:
But oh! the green sickness
Soon changed her likeness;
And all her beauty did fail.
But 'tis not so
With those that go
Thro'frost and s
As
As all men know,
And carry the milking-pail.
Piscator. Well sung, good woman; I thank you. I'll give you another dish
of fish one of these days; and then beg another song of you. Come,
scholar ! let Maudlin alone: do not you offer to spoil her voice. Look !
yonder comes mine hostess, to call us to supper. How now! is my
brother Peter come?
Hostess. Yes, and a friend with him. They are both glad to hear that you
are in these parts; and long to see you; and long to be at supper, for they
be very hungry.
The third day - continued
On the Trout
Chapter V
Piscator, Peter, Venator, Coridon
Piscator. Well met, brother Peter! I heard you and a friend would lodge
here to-night; and that hath made me to bring my friend to lodge here
too. My friend is one that would fain be a brother of the angle: he hath
been an angler but this day; and I have taught him how to catch a Chub,
by dapping with a grasshopper; and the Chub he caught was a lusty one
of nineteen inches long. But pray, brother Peter, who is your companion
?
Peter. Brother Piscator, my friend is an honest countryman, and his
name is Coridon; and he is a downright witty companion, that met me
here purposely to be pleasant and eat a Trout; and I have not yet wetted
my line since we met together: but I hope to fit him with a Trout for his
breakfast; for I'll be early up.
Piscator. Nay, brother, you shall not stay so long; for, look you! here is
a Trout will fill six reasonable bellies.
Come, hostess, dress it presently; and get us what other meat the house
will afford; and give us some of your best barley-wine, the good liquor
that our honest forefathers did use to think of; the drink which
preserved their health, and made them live so long, and to do so many
good deeds.
Peter. On my word, this Trout is perfect in season. Come, I thank you,
and here is a hearty draught to you, and to all the brothers of the angle
wheresoever they be, and to my young brother's good fortune to-
morrow. I will furnish him with a rod, if you will furnish him with the
rest of the tackling: we will set him up, and make him a fisher. And I
will tell him one thing for his encouragement, that his fortune hath
made him happy to be scholar to such a master; a master that knows as
much, both of the nature and breeding of fish, as any man; and can also
tell him as well how to catch and cook them, from the Minnow to the
Salmon, as any that I ever met withal.
Piscator. Trust me, brother Peter, I find my scholar to be so suitable to
my own humour, which is to be free and pleasant and civilly merry, that
my resolution is to hide nothing that I know from him. Believe me,
scholar, this is my resolution; and so here's to you a hearty draught, and
to all that love us and the honest art of Angling.
Venator. Trust me, good master, you shall not sow your seed in barren
ground; for I hope to return you an increase answerable to your hopes:
but, however, you shall find me obedient, and thankful, and serviceable
to my best ability.
Piscator. 'Tis enough, honest scholar! come, let's to supper. Come, my
friend Coridon, this Trout looks lovely; it was twenty-two inches when
it was taken; and the belly of it looked, some part of it, as yellow as a
marigold, and part of it as white as a lily; and yet, methinks, it looks
better in this good sauce.
Coridon. Indeed, honest friend, it looks well, and tastes well: I thank
you for it, and so doth my friend Peter, or else he is to blame.
Peter. Yes, and so I do; we all thank you: and, when we have supped, I
will get my friend Coridon to sing you a song for requital.
Coridon. I will sing a song, if anybody will sing another, else, to be
plain with you, I will sing none. I am none of those that sing for meat,
but for company: I say,
'"Tis merry in hall,
When men sing all."
Piscator. I'll promise you I'll sing a song that was lately made, at my
request, by Mr. William Basse; one that hath made the choice songs of
the " Hunter in his Career," and of " Tom of Bedlam," and many others
of note; and this, that I will sing, is in praise of Angling.
Coridon. And then mine shall be the praise of a Countryman's life.
What will the rest sing of?
Peter. I will promise you, I will sing another song in praise of Angling
to-morrow night; for we will not part till then; but fish to-morrow, and
sup together: and the next day every man leave fishing, and fall to his
business.
Venator. Tis a match; and I will provide you a song or a catch against
then, too, which shall give some addition of mirth to the company; for
we will be civil and as merry as beggars.
Piscator. Tis a match, my masters. Let's e en say grace, and turn to the
fire, drink the other cup to whet our whistles, and so sing away all sad
thoughts. Come on, my masters, who begins? I think it is best to draw
cuts, and avoid contention.
Peter. It is a match. Look, the shortest cut falls to Coridon.
Coridon. Well, then, I will begin, for I hate contention
Coridon's song.
Oh the sweet contentment
The countryman doth find!
Heigh trolollie lollie foe,
Heigh trolollie lee.
That quiet contemplation
Possesseth all my mind:
Then care away
And wend along with me.
For Courts are full of flattery,
As hath too oft been tried
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.,
The city full of wantonness,
And both are full of pride:
Then care away, etc.
But oh, the honest countryman
Speaks truly from his heart
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.
His pride is in his tillage,
His horses, and his cart:
Then care away, etc.
Our cloathing is good sheep-skins
Grey russet for our wives
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, etc.
'Tis warmth and not gay cloathing
That doth prolong our lives:
Then care away, etc.
The ploughman, tho' he labour hard,
Yet on the holy-day
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.
No emperor so merrily
Does pass his time away:
Then care away, etc.
To recompense our tillage,
The heavens afford us showers
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.
And for our sweet refreshment.
The earth affords us bowers:
Then care away, etc.
The cuckow and the nightingale
Full merrily do sing,
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.
And with their pleasant roundelays
Bid welcome to the spring:
Then care away, etc.
This is not half the happiness
The countryman enjoys
Heigh trolollie lollie foe, etc.,
Though others think they have as much,
Yet he that says so lies:
Then come away,
Turn countrymen with me.
Jo. Chalkhill.,
Piscator. Well sung, Coridon, this song was sung with mettle; and it
was choicely fitted to the occasion: I shall love you for it as long as I
know you. I would you were a brother of the angle; for a companion
that is cheerful, and free from swearing and scurrilous discourse, is
worth gold. I love such mirth as does not make friends ashamed to look
upon one another next morning; nor men, that cannot well bear it, to
repent the money they spend when they be warmed with drink. And
take this for a rule: you may pick out such times and such companies,
that you make yourselves merrier for a little than a great deal of money;
for "'Tis the company and not the charge that makes the feast "; and
such a companion you prove: I thank you for it
But I will not compliment you out of the debt that I owe you, and
therefore I will begin my song, and wish it may be so well liked.
The Angler's song.
As inward love breeds outward talk
The hound some praise, and some the hawk
Some, better pleas'd with private sport
Use tennis, some a mistress court:
But these delights I neither wish
Nor envy, while I freely fish.
Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride;
Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide
Who uses games shall often prove
A loser, but who falls in love,
Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare:
My angle breeds me no such care.
Of recreation there is none
So free as fishing is alone;
All other pastimes do no less
Than mind and body both possess:
My hand alone my work can do,
So I can fish and study too.
I care not, I, to fish in seas,
Fresh rivers best my mind do please,
Whose sweet calm course I contemplate,
And seek in life to imitate:
In civil bounds I fain would keep,
And for my past offences weep.
And when the timorous Trout I wait
To take, and he devours my bait,
How poor a thing, sometimes I find,
Will captivate a greedy mind:
And when none bite, I praise the wise
Whom vain allurements ne'er surprise.
But yet, though while I fish, I fast,
I make good fortune my repast;
And "hereunto 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.
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