Poiet.—I should like extremely to fish in the Izar: it is, I think, a new kind of pleasure to take a new kind of fish, even though it is not unknown to Natural Historians. But the most exquisite kind of angling, in my opinion, would be that of angling in a river never fished in by Europeans before; and I can scarcely imagine sport of a higher kind than that which involves a triple source of pleasure—catching a fish, procuring good food for the table, and making a discovery in Natural History, at the same time. Sir Joseph Banks, who was always a great amateur of angling, had often this kind of gratification. And to Captain Franklin and Dr. Richardson, in their expedition to the Arctic Ocean, when they were almost starving, what a delightful circumstance it must have been, to have taken with a fly those large grayling, which they mention, of a new species, equally beautiful in their appearance, and good for the table!
Hal.—When a boy, I have felt an interest in sea fishing, for this reason—that there was a variety of fish; but the want of skill in the amusement—sinking a bait with a lead and pulling up a fish by main force, soon made me tired of it. Since I have been a fly-fisher, I have rarely fished in the sea, and then only with a reel and fine tackle from the rocks, which is at least as interesting an amusement as that of the Cockney fishermen, who fish for roach and dace in the Thames, which I have tried twice in my life, but shall never try again.
Phys.—You are severe on Cockney fishermen, and, I suppose, would apply to them only, the observation of Dr. Johnson, which on a former occasion you would not allow to be just: “Angling is an amusement with a stick and a string; a worm at one end, and a fool at the other.” And to yourself you would apply it with this change: “a fly at one end, and a philosopher at the other.” Yet the pleasure of the Cockney Angler appears to me of much the same kind, and perhaps more continuous than yours; and he has the happiness of constant occupation and perpetual pursuit in as high a degree as you have; and if we were to look at the real foundations of your pleasure, we should find them, like most of the foundations of human happiness—vanity or folly. I shall never forget the impression made upon me some years ago, when I was standing on the pier at Donegal, watching the flowing of the tide: I saw a lame boy of fourteen or fifteen years old, very slightly clad, that some persons were attempting to stop in his progress along the pier; but he resisted them with his crutches, and, halting along, threw himself from an elevation of five or six feet, with his crutches, and a little parcel of wooden boats, that he carried under his arm, on the sand of the beach. He had to scramble or halt at least 100 yards, over hard rocks, before he reached the water, and he several times fell down and cut his naked limbs on the bare stones. Being in the water, he seemed in an ecstacy, and immediately put his boats in sailing order, and was perfectly inattentive to the counsel and warning of the spectators, who shouted to him, that he would be drowned. His whole attention was absorbed by his boats. He had formed an idea, that one should outsail the rest, and when this boat was foremost he was in delight; but if any one of the others got beyond it he howled with grief; and once I saw him throw his crutch at one of the unfavoured boats. The tide came in rapidly—he lost his crutches, and would have been drowned, but for the care of some of the spectators: he was however wholly inattentive to any thing save his boats. He is said to be quite insane and perfectly ungovernable, and will not live in a house, or wear any clothes, and his whole life is spent in this one business—making and managing a fleet of wooden boats, of which he is sole admiral. How near this mad youth is to a genius, a hero, or to an angler, who injures his health and risks his life by going into the water as high as his middle, in the hope of catching a fish which he sees rise, though he already has a pannier full.
Hal.—Or a statesman, working by all means, fair and foul, to obtain a blue ribband. Or a fox-hunter, risking his neck to see the hounds destroy an animal, which he preserves to be destroyed, and which is good for nothing. Or an aged, licentious voluptuary, using all the powers of a high and cultivated intellect to destroy the innocence of a beautiful virgin—for a transient gratification to render her miserable, and by making a flaw in an inestimable and brilliant gem, utterly to destroy its value.
Phys.—You might go on and cite almost all the objects of pursuit of rational beings, as, by distinction, they are called. But to return to your favourite amusement. I wonder, that, with such a passion for angling, you have never made an expedition in one of our whalers—with Captain Scoresby for instance: you would then have enjoyed sport of a new kind.
Hal.—I should like much to see a whale taken, but I do not think the sight worth the dangers and privations of such a voyage. It would only be an amusing spectacle and not an enterprise, unless indeed I employed myself the harpoon; and after all it must be a tedious operation, that of watching the sinking and rising of a fish obedient to a natural instinct, which, in this instance, is the cause of his death.
Poiet.—How?
Hal.—The whale, having no air bladder, can sink to the lowest depths of the ocean, and, mistaking the harpoon for the teeth of a sword fish or a shark, he instantly descends, this being his manner of freeing himself from these enemies, who cannot bear the pressure of a deep ocean, and from ascending and descending in small space, he puts himself in the power of the whaler; where as, if he knew his force, and were to swim on the surface in a straight line, he would break or destroy the machinery by which he is arrested, as easily as a salmon breaks the single gut of a fisher when his reel is entangled.
Poiet.—My amusement in such a voyage would be to look for the kraken and the sea snake.
Hal.—You have a vivid imagination, and might see them.