Chapter III · The Host conducts the Angler and Painter to Beresford Hall and Mr. Cotton’s Fishing House on the River Dove. (continued 2)

Painter. And thus Mr. Walton, by an alluring suavity, persuaded the Huntsman that angling was near a-kin to wisdom, ‘all her ways pleasantness, and her paths peace!’^[60]

Angler. Doubtless,—and I would have you understand that Mr. Walton, who is a known lover of truth, here declares that he has discovered, by a practical acquaintance with his art, ‘the very sitting by the river’s side is not only the quietest and fittest place for contemplation, but will invite an angler to it; and settle his mind in a quiet repose, and there make him fit for revelation.’ Then, after many more examples to the lawfulness and high esteem of angling, he declares, that ‘whosoever shall view the ancient ecclesiastical canons, shall find hunting to be forbidden to Churchmen, as being a turbulent, toilsome, perplexing recreation; and shall find angling allowed, as being a harmless recreation that invites them to contemplation and quietness.’

Painter. This methinks is suitable; for so pious ministers may forth into the meadows, and there sit and angle in a retirement, and 179unbend their minds from too close study; and, moreover give glory to God, when they see the rocks and waters that He hath formed, and the whole earth spangled with flowers or other ornaments, for the service and delight of mankind.

Angler. And I believe that every hour of innocent freedom from the cold-hearted humours of the world, and every secret instinct of reverence and affection towards God is a step forward in our path to the unseen glories of His presence. ‘And it is only while we are still that we are like a tranquil water reflecting Heaven.’——Thus, Venator became more and more charmed into an attention, until Mr. Walton brought him to the persuasion that angling was ‘an employment full of various pleasures and events;’ and after that declared, how ‘learned William Perkins, Dr. Whitaker, and Dr. Nowel, sometime Dean of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, in London, so noted for his meek spirit, deep learning, prudence, and piety, were dear lovers and constant practisers of angling.’

Painter. I dare not deny the commendations Mr. Walton bestows on fishing, if peaceful Dr. Nowel gave his authority to the enjoyment of it; for he was a most excellent example of 180ancient simplicity and holiness; and who can tell the deep searchings of his spirit into the truths revealed in the sacred scripture! as witness his Church Catechism, and the part he took in drawing up the Articles of our Faith, which shall be the guiding star of happy England amidst the rocks, and shelves, and quicksands, and cloudy storms of ages yet to come.

Angler. Alas! I have a sad forecasting of times, when the Church (and through her side the Commonwealth of England) shall be again assailed by wearisome censurers, the declared enemies of her polity and ministrations,—and yet more of her endowments.

Painter. Be not vexed with these unquiet thoughts: God hath His flock in His own keeping: unless through some decay of piety in our Bishops and Ministers of religion, by their neglecting of the sacraments, the daily church services, the Fasts and Festivals, and primitive rules of discipline, He should again be angered against the shepherds, and let the wolves into the fold.

Angler. Alas! for that day, if ever they should disparage and slur those ministrations, which are their divine commission to the end of time, and their bulwark!—for then would the love and reverence of men be again changed 181into an averseness, and ill-speakers of church-government provoke disunion, so as the very vail of the temple mould be rent in twain.——But to return to the example of pious Dean Nowel, I may tell you, this most wise man was ‘a dear lover and constant practiser of angling as any age can produce; and his custom was to spend, besides his fixed hours of prayer, a tenth part of his time in angling, and also of his revenue, and usually all his fish, amongst the poor, that inhabited near to those rivers in which it was caught, saying often, “that charity gave life to religion;” and at his return to his house he would praise God, he had spent that day free from worldly trouble; both harmlessly and in a recreation that became a churchman.’ And more I have to say; for you will not deny to Sir Henry Wotton your partial opinion and praise.

Painter. That I will not, because I know he was a man of notable qualities; and one that was a lover of excellent artificers in limning and sculpture, and willingly afforded his ear and his purse to every poor man that was so happy as to gain access to him.

Angler. Then I have but this more to say, namely, how Mr. Walton declares, that ‘Sir Henry Wotton, whose experience, learning, 182wit, and cheerfulness, made him one of the delights of mankind, was also a dear lover and frequent practiser of the art of angling, of which he would say, “’Twas an employment for his idle time, which was not then idly spent: for angling was, after a tedious study, a rest to his mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer of contentedness.”’

Painter. Sir, you could not more certainly move me to favourable thoughts of angling, than by persuading me to believe that Sir Henry Wotton had a love for this pastime.

Angler. I am glad to hear you say so; and now, after this long digression, I intend only to tell you, that those irresistible arguments wherewith Mr. Walton adorned his discourse, brought the Huntsman and himself to Hodsden, that was the end of their journey. And then Mr. Walton said, ‘I am glad your patience hath held out so long, for my discourse hath brought us within sight of the Thatched House.’

To this the other replied: ‘Sir, you have angled me on with much pleasure to the Thatched House, and I now find your words true; that good company makes the way seem short; for, trust me, Sir, I thought we had 183wanted three miles of this house, till you showed it to me. But now we are at it, we’ll turn into it, and refresh ourselves with a cup of drink and a little rest.’

‘Most gladly, Sir,’ replied Piscator, ‘and we’ll drink a civil cup to all the Otter-hunters that we are to meet to-morrow.’ Then Venator answered him, ‘That we will, Sir, and to all the lovers of angling too; of which number I am now willing to be one myself; for by the help of your discourse and company I have put on new thoughts, both of the art of angling and of all that profess it: and if you will but meet me to-morrow at the time and place appointed, and bestow one day with me and my friends on hunting the Otter, I will dedicate the next two days to wait on you, and we two will for that time do nothing but angle, and talk of fish and fishing.’ Then Piscator cheerfully took him at his word, and said: ‘’Tis a match, Sir; I’ll not fail you, (God willing,) to be at Amwell Hill to-morrow morning before sun rising.’

Painter. A more sweet and loving discourse I have not heard. I declare to you I am moved by a sensible charm to listen to these ingenuous strangers, as they enliven each other by an accidental dialogue on angling.

184Angler. And who would not desire that he might spend a fine fresh morning once a year at least in Mr. Walton’s company, and hear him allege his plausible arguments to teach men to be peaceful anglers? And if I might persuade you to read all he says in praise of his art, you would find such a harmony and so many suitable colours in the composition of his book, that you might declare it to be a picture designed with all the graces of Titian, and the sweetness of Correggio.

Painter. Well, brother, this I will declare, that I am like the gentleman Falconer, and begin to love both Mr. Walton and his art; nay, I have listened with a secret pleasure to his conversation, and hope to hear what entertainment his friend the huntsman provided for him, when they two met at Amwell to hunt the Otter.

Angler. That you shall hear by and by, but first let me see your sketch of Pike Pool.

Painter. There it is, and the best I can make it.

Angler. It is indeed a skilful picture: all of a just and natural proportion: and now, because you have had so much civility and patience, I will make you some requital, and go a-fishing with you for an hour; but look, you have a 185nibble; for your quill is out of sight.

Painter. And so it is! now I hope to find a good trout to my hook—how shall I play with him?

Angler. Take up your rod, and try if it be a little one or a big one.

Painter. It is but ‘a diminutive gentleman.’

Angler. Then throw him in again, and put on another worm:—there, you have a second!

Painter. Now! I warrant this is a mettlesome fish.

Angler. Then answer him conformably.

Painter. Ah!—I am but an ignoramus, with all my pride; nevertheless I hope I shall not lose him, for he will be worth his weight in gold, only because I took him in this very spot; and if I catch him, I’ll draw his likeness in colours at my leisure.—He goes away at a dash—I fear my tackling will not hold out.

Angler. I am a hostage for the line, if you will practice him pliantly—but do not jerk him.

Painter. I beseech you take the rod and show me.

Angler. Well then—you must cherish him a bit—thus—and now straighten him by degrees drawing in your line.

Painter. See how he doubles back.

Angler. Ay: but I have him in hand—so—now 186do you take the rod again, and puzzle him, and give me the net—it is well done—this way with him—I have the Hector, and I declare to you it is the largest fish we have taken to-day.

Painter. Oh, brother, I am quite in love with this pastime of angling—it is the pleasantest thing in the world—and I profess myself from henceforth a willing disciple of Mr. Walton.

Angler. Indeed! I am charmed to hear you make this honest declaration; and I may tell you, for your encouragement, that you are like to prove a handy craftsman, so let us go lower down to the fresh streams.

Painter. I have almost had enough: and I cannot hope to be pleased with any place after this woody dell. I have never seen the like for a retirement.

Angler. Well, as you please: but what is yonder above our heads, which is overshadowed by the ash trees? methinks it looks like a hole in the rock.

Painter. I believe it is, and if you are so inclined, let us scramble up and look into it: perchance we shall make a discovery.

Angler. With all my heart; lead on: but have a care, for it is a scraggy place, and you 187may hap to come down again heels over head.

Painter. Look to yourself; a Carolus to a groat that I’m there first.

Angler. Say you so? then pr’ythee let your footing keep pace with your words, for I am after you.

Painter. Heigho!—stop there,—I have slipped up; beseech you—give me a hand.

Angler. Ha, ha! Signor, whose somersault was that? try again:—but see, I am up first,—and what a concealed cavern is here, ‘covered over with rude grown briers,’^[61] and big enough for a man to stand upright in, if he desired a shelter.^[62]

188Painter. Ay, and we have seen the times that such a cave had been worth a king’s crown, when he that was near to losing one, was compelled to hide himself from his pursuers.

Angler. Let us pray God that the nation may rest from her troubles;—that we may sit ‘every man under his vine and under his fig-tree;’ and angle when he will, in peace beneath the shade of sycamine trees, free from all contentions and jars.

Painter. This, I hope, may be our happy lot; and now we have six braces and a half of trouts; so if you please, let us back to Alstonfields; for we have two miles to walk, and the sun is going down.

Angler. I am quite willing to be at home, for I begin to tire; here is the way.

Painter. So—we are come again to the steep hill by Narrow Dale: I wish we were past it.

Angler. There are some houses;—and a woman standing at her cottage-door—shall we follow the example of good Dean Nowel, and 189make her happy with the contribution of some of our fishes?

Painter. I had the same thought.

Angler. Here, good woman; will it please you accept this couple of trouts, and I dare believe you’ll know how to cook them.

Cottager. I humbly thank you, gentlemen, and it is not the first time I have dressed trouts: for noble Mr. Cotton bestows a great part of his fish upon us. He hath a charitable heart towards his poor neighbours: and for gentlemen anglers, he loves to see them take their sport in his river.

Angler. That I am sure of—we wish you a good evening.

Cottager. Your servant, kind gentlefolk; and I thank you too.

Angler. So—we are arrived once more at the King’s Head, and there is mine host at his door looking about for us. Well, Mr. Marsh!

Host. Sirs, you are welcome; and I hope you have found good sport in our river Dove.

Angler. Exceeding good; see,—here are some brace of trouts for supper: and now we’ll rest ourselves on this bench till they be ready.

Host. I’ll bring them in a trice, for ‘the kettle is set upon a quick fire of wood, and the liquor’s boiling up.’

190Angler. That’s well! and, Host, ‘whilst your fish is boiling, beat up the butter for your sauce.’

Host. It shall be done, Sir! and ‘I’ll strew it plentifully with shaved horseradish and a little pounded ginger.’

Angler. He remembers every word how Mr. Cotton taught Viator to dress a trout or grayling, which questionless is of all other the best way.

Painter. That I believe. — — —

And here comes mine Host again with the trouts:—they are served as quickly as we could desire—so do you say grace, brother.—Amen.

Host. Sir, they are good sized fish, and exceeding well conditioned.

Angler. The biggest is my brother’s, that he took in the Pike Pool, after you were gone home; and he has declared it to be his purpose, from this day, to call himself a scholar of Mr. Walton, and endeavour to learn the secrets of our craft.

Host. Indeed, Sir! I am heartily glad of this—for I have heard Mr. Walton and Mr. Cotton say, when men are quietly employed a-fishing, it teaches them to lay aside uneasy thoughts and cares, being a pastime that is full of hope; and this gentleman gives promise to 191be a skilful artist with his angle.

Angler. True—and I’ll drink his health in a glass of Staffordshire ale—so make us a loving cup, with toasted bread and sugar, the same as yesterday.

Host. Sir! it shall be done as you desire.—And quickly.—

Angler. That is well—come brother, here’s to you and your honest Master, Mr. Izaak Walton, and I will not forget Mr. Charles Cotton, for you must now look upon him as an adopted brother.

Painter. Trust me, I want no persuasions to love Mr. Cotton, who hath provided such delights by the river Dove, and made them all ‘sacred to anglers;’ my mind is full of the train of those pleasures. And now resolve me this question: Why may we not divert ourselves another day or two on the margin of this fine river?

Angler. Are you in earnest?

Painter. Indeed am I; and if you are so inclined, I’ll be wholly disposed of by you.

Angler. Why, that’s brave! I accept your challenge; and seeing you have abandoned yourself to my conduct, I will persuade you to walk back to the town of Ashbourne through the whole valley of Dove Dale.

Painter. That is agreed. Oh! I am full 192of joyful thoughts of rare angling; and perchance we may yet find some beautiful landskips; nevertheless, methinks, we have seen the choicest parts of the river: is it not so?

Angler. Of that I shall ask leave to say nothing; do you but wait till to-morrow and when you are come to the lower streams towards Ashbourne, I will remit the question to your own free judgment.

Painter. Well, I have suddenly a thought come into my mind.

Angler. What is that? I hope it is to give us a song, for I know you have not been denied a voice or an ear; so tune up your music, and after that I’ll make some attempts myself, and sing an innocent song.

Painter. Anon—anon—but now tell me, why should not we two happy anglers, that have found our walking legs up and down the slopes of these glades, stretch them again to-morrow morning, and go to the higher parts of the Dove, and see how this river ‘springs from a contemptible fountain,’ that Mr. Cotton says, ‘he can cover with his hat.’

Angler. On the word of an angler, you are the strangest man that ever I saw! Let me tell you, the path there and back is near upon twenty miles,

193‘Up hill and down dell,

‘By rock and by fell.’

Painter. What care I for twenty miles, so I may but drink a cup from that fountain of the Dove to the health of my master, Mr. Izaak Walton?

Oh! the gallant fisher’s life,

It is the best of any;

’Tis full of pleasure, void of strife,

And ’tis beloved by many.

Both. Other joys

Are but toys,

Only this

Lawful is;

For our skill

Breeds no ill,

But content and pleasure.

Angler. In a morning up we rise,

Ere Aurora’s peeping;

Drink a cup to wash our eyes,

Leave the sluggard sleeping.

Both. Then we go,

To and fro,

With our knacks

At our backs,

To the Dove,

That we love,

If we have the leisure.

Angler. Excellent, excellent—‘you have conquered me;’ and to speak the truth, I but tried 194if you were in earnest; for once on a time I walked by myself to the Dove Head, and I may tell you all the way is as full of fair sweet prospects as any can desire that love angling and the wild hadder of the moors; so let us be gone to-morrow before the sun rising.

Painter. I care not how early; and now every one to bed with a prayerful heart, that he may secretly fetch down his consolation from Heaven, and make every thing contribute to his gradual ascent thither.

Angler. Good night, all.

195