The second class of angling books--the literature of power--includes
all (even those written with some purpose of instruction) in which
the gentle fascinations of the sport, the attractions of living out-
of-doors, the beauties of stream and woodland, the recollections of
happy adventure, and the cheerful thoughts that make the best of a
day's luck, come clearly before the author's mind and find some fit
expression in his words. Of such books, thank Heaven, there is a
plenty to bring a Maytide charm and cheer into the fisherman's dull
December. I will name, by way of random tribute from a grateful but
unmethodical memory, a few of these consolatory volumes.
First of all comes a family of books that were born in Scotland and
smell of the heather.
Whatever a Scotchman's conscience permits him to do, is likely to be
done with vigour and a fiery mind. In trade and in theology, in
fishing and in fighting, he is all there and thoroughly kindled.
There is an old-fashioned book called THE MOOR AND THE LOCH, by John
Colquhoun, which is full of contagious enthusiasm. Thomas Tod
Stoddart was a most impassioned angler, (though over-given to strong
language,) and in his ANGLING REMINISCENCES he has touched the
subject with a happy hand,--happiest when he breaks into poetry and
tosses out a song for the fisherman. Professor John Wilson of the
University of Edinburgh held the chair of Moral Philosophy in that
institution, but his true fame rests on his well-earned titles of A.
M. and F. R. S.,--Master of Angling, and Fisherman Royal of
Scotland. His RECREATIONS OF CHRISTOPHER NORTH, albeit their humour
is sometimes too boisterously hammered in, are genial and generous
essays, overflowing with passages of good-fellowship and pedestrian
fancy. I would recommend any person in a dry and melancholy state
of mind to read his paper on "Streams," in the first volume of
ESSAYS CRITICAL AND IMAGINATIVE. But it must be said, by way of
warning to those with whom dryness is a matter of principle, that
all Scotch fishing-books are likely to be sprinkled with Highland
Dew.
Among English anglers, Sir Humphry Davy is one of whom Christopher
North speaks rather slightingly. Nevertheless his SALMONIA is well
worth reading, not only because it was written by a learned man, but
because it exhales the spirit of cheerful piety and vital wisdom.
Charles Kingsley was another great man who wrote well about angling.
His CHALK-STREAM STUDIES are clear and sparkling. They cleanse the
mind and refresh the heart and put us more in love with living. Of
quite a different style are the MAXIMS AND HINTS FOR AN ANGLER, AND
MISERIES OF FISHING, which were written by Richard Penn, a grandson
of the founder of Pennsylvania. This is a curious and rare little
volume, professing to be a compilation from the "Common Place Book
of the Houghton Fishing Club," and dealing with the subject from a
Pickwickian point of view. I suppose that William Penn would have
thought his grandson a frivolous writer.
But he could not have entertained such an opinion of the Honourable
Robert Boyle, of whose OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS no less than twelve
discourses treat "of Angling Improved to Spiritual Uses." The
titles of some of these discourses are quaint enough to quote.
"Upon the being called upon to rise early on a very fair morning."
"Upon the mounting, singing, and lighting of larks." "Upon fishing
with a counterfeit fly." "Upon a danger arising from an
unseasonable contest with the steersman." "Upon one's drinking
water out of the brim of his hat." With such good texts it is easy
to endure, and easier still to spare, the sermons.
Englishmen carry their love of travel into their anglimania, and
many of their books describe fishing adventures in foreign parts.
RAMBLES WITH A FISHING-ROD, by E. S. Roscoe, tells of happy days in
the Salzkammergut and the Bavarian Highlands and Normandy. FISH-
TAILS AND A FEW OTHERS, by Bradnock Hall, contains some delightful
chapters on Norway. THE ROD IN INDIA, by H. S. Thomas, narrates
wonderful adventures with the Mahseer and the Rohu and other pagan
fish.
But, after all, I like the English angler best when he travels at
home, and writes of dry-fly fishing in the Itchen or the Test, or of
wet-fly fishing in Northumberland or Sutherlandshire. There is a
fascinating booklet that appeared quietly, some years ago, called AN
AMATEUR ANGLER'S DAYS IN DOVE DALE. It runs as easily and merrily
and kindly as a little river, full of peace and pure enjoyment.
Other books of the same quality have since been written by the same
pen,--DAYS IN CLOVER, FRESH WOODS, BY MEADOW AND STREAM. It is no
secret, I believe, that the author is Mr. Edward Marston, the senior
member of a London publishing-house. But he still clings to his
retiring pen-name of "The Amateur Angler," and represents himself,
by a graceful fiction, as all unskilled in the art. An instance of
similar modesty is found in Mr. Andrew Lang, who entitles the first
chapter of his delightful ANGLING SKETCHES (without which no
fisherman's library is complete), "Confessions of a Duffer." This
an engaging liberty which no one else would dare to take.
The best English fish-story pure and simple, that I know, is
"Crocker's Hole," by H. D. Black-more, the creator of LORNA DOONE.
Let us turn now to American books about angling. Of these the
merciful dispensations of Providence have brought forth no small
store since Mr. William Andrew Chatto made the ill-natured remark
which is pilloried at the head of this chapter. By the way, it
seems that Mr. Chatto had never heard of "The Schuylkill Fishing
Company," which was founded on that romantic stream near
Philadelphia in 1732, nor seen the AUTHENTIC HISTORICAL MEMOIR of
that celebrated and amusing society.
I am sorry for the man who cannot find pleasure in reading the
appendix of THE AMERICAN ANGLER'S BOOK, by Thaddeus Norris; or the
discursive pages of Frank Forester's FISH AND FISHING; or the
introduction and notes of that unexcelled edition of Walton which
was made by the Reverend Doctor George W. Bethune; or SUPERIOR
FISHING and GAME FISH OF THE NORTH, by Mr. Robert B. Roosevelt; or
Henshall's BOOK OF THE BLACK BASS; or the admirable disgressions of
Mr. Henry P. Wells, in his FLY-RODS AND FLY-TACKLE, and THE AMERICAN
SALMON ANGLER. Dr. William C. Prime has never put his profound
knowledge of the art of angling into a manual of technical
instruction; but he has written of the delights of the sport in OWL
CREEK LETTERS, and in I GO A-FISHING, and in some of the chapters of
ALONG NEW ENGLAND ROADS and AMONG NEW ENGLAND HILLS, with a
persuasive skill that has created many new anglers, and made many
old ones grateful. It is a fitting coincidence of heredity that his
niece, Mrs. Annie Trumbull Slosson, is the author of the most tender
and pathetic of all angling stories, FISHIN' JIMMY.
But it is not only in books written altogether from his peculiar
point of view and to humour his harmless insanity, that the angler
may find pleasant reading about his favourite pastime. There are
excellent bits of fishing scattered all through the field of good
literature. It seems as if almost all the men who could write well
had a friendly feeling for the contemplative sport.
Plutarch, in THE LIVES OF THE NOBLE GRECIANS AND ROMANS, tells a
capital fish-story of the manner in which the Egyptian Cleopatra
fooled that far-famed Roman wight, Marc Antony, when they were
angling together on the Nile. As I recall it, from a perusal in
early boyhood, Antony was having very bad luck indeed; in fact he
had taken nothing, and was sadly put out about it. Cleopatra,
thinking to get a rise out of him, secretly told one of her
attendants to dive over the opposite side of the barge and fasten a
salt fish to the Roman general's hook. The attendant was much
pleased with this commission, and, having executed it, proceeded to
add a fine stroke of his own; for when he had made the fish fast on
the hook, he gave a great pull to the line and held on tightly.
Antony was much excited and began to haul violently at his tackle.
"By Jupiter!" he exclaimed, "it was long in coming, but I have a
colossal bite now."
"Have a care," said Cleopatra, laughing behind her sunshade, "or he
will drag you into the water. You must give him line when he pulls
hard."
"Not a denarius will I give!" rudely responded Antony. "I mean to
have this halibut or Hades!"
At this moment the man under the boat, being out of breath, let the
line go, and Antony, falling backward, drew up the salted herring.
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