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The Complete Angler   |
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The Complete An
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THE FIRST DAY. (Continued.) CHAPTER II. AN ACCOUNT OF THE PRINCIPAL RIVERS IN DERBYSHIRE. VIATOR LODGES AT PISCATOR'S HOUSE. _______ Pisc. junior. So, sir, now we have got to the top of the hill out of town, look about you, and tell me how you like the country. Viat. Bless me! what mountains are here! Are we not in Wales? Pisc. No, but in almost as mountainous a country; and yet these hills, though high, bleak, and craggy, breed and feed good beef and mutton above ground, and afford good store of lead within. Viat. They had need of all these commodities to make amends for the ill landscape: but I hope our way does not lie over any of these, for I dread a precipice. Pisc. Believe me, but it does, and down one especially, that will appear a little terrible to a stranger; though the way is passable enough, and so passable, that we, who are natives of these mountains, and acquainted with them, disdain to alight. Viat. I hope, though, that a foreigner is privileged to use his own discretion, and that I may have the liberty to entrust my neck to the fidelity of my own feet, rather than to those of my horse: for I have no more at home. Pisc. 'twere hard else. But in the meantime, I think 'twere best, while this way is pretty even, to mend our pace, that we may be past that hill I speak of, to the end your apprehension may not be doubled for want of light to discern the easiness of the descent. Viat. I am willing to put forward as fast as my beast will give me leave; though I fear nothing in your company. But what pretty river is this we are going into? Pisc. Why this, sir, is called Bently brook, and is full of very good trout and grayling; but so encumbred with wood in many places, as is troublesome to an angler. Viat. Here are the prettiest rivers, and the most of them in this country that ever I saw. Do you know how many you have in the country? Pisc. I know them all, and they were not hard to reckon, were it worth the trouble: but the most considerable of them I will presently name you. And to begin where we now are, for you must know we are now upon the very skirts of Derbyshire; we have, first, the river Dove, that we shall come to by and by, which divides the two counties of Derby and Stafford, for many miles together, and is so called from the swifness of its current, and that swiftness is occasioned by the declivity of its course, and by being so straitened in that course betwixt the rocks; by which, and those very high ones, it is hereabout, for four or five miles, confined into a very narrow stream. A river that, from a contemptible fountain, which I can cover with my hat, by the confluence of other rivers, rivulets, brooks, and rills, is swelled,---before it falls into Trent, a little below Egginton, where it loses the name,---to such a breadth and depth, as to be in most places navigable, were not the passage frequently interrupted with fords and wears: and has as fertile banks as any river in England, none excepted. And this river, from its head, for a mile or two, is a black water, as all the rest of Derbyshire rivers of note originally are; for they all spring from the mosses, but is in a few miles travel so clarified, by the addition of several clear, and very great springs, bigger than itself, which gush out of the lime-stone rocks, that before it comes to my house, which is but six or seven miles from its source, you will find it one of the purest crystalline streams you have seen. Viat. Does Trent spring in these parts? Pisc. Yes, in these parts; not in this county, but somewhere towards the upper end of Staffordshire, I think not far from a place called Trentham; and thence runs down not far from Stafford to Wolsey-bridge, and, washing the skirts and purlieus of the forest of Needwood, runs down to Burton in the same county; thence it comes into this where we now are, and, running by Swakeston and Dunnington, receives Derwent at Wildon; and so to Nottingham, thence to Newark, and by Gainsborough to Kingston-upon-Hull, where it takes the name of Humber, and thence falls into the sea: but that the map will best inform you. Viat. Know you whence this river Trent derives its name? Pisc. No, indeed, and yet I have heard it often discoursed upon, when some have given its denomination from the fore-named Trentham, though that seems rather a derivative from it; others have said 'tis so called from thirty rivers that fall into it, and these lose their names; which cannot be neither, becuase it carries that name from its very fountain, before any other rivers fall into it: others derive it from thirty several sorts of fish that breed there; and that is the most likely derivation; but be it how it will, it is doubtless one of the finest rivers in the world, and the most abounding with excellent salmon, and all sorts of delicate fish. Viat. Pardon me, sir, for tempting you into this digression: and then proceed to your other rivers, for I am mightily delighted with this discourse. Pisc. It was no interruption, but a very seasonable question; for Trent is not only one of our Derbyshire rivers, but the chief of them, and into which all the rest pay the tribute of their names; which I had, perhaps, forgot to insist upon, being got to the other end of the county, had you not awoke my memory. But I will now proceed; and the next river of note, for I take them as they lie eastward from us, is the river Wye: I say of note, for we have two lesser betwixt us and it, namely, Lathkin and Bradford: of which Lathkin is, by many degrees, the purest and most transparent stream that I ever saw, either at home or abroad; and breeds, 'tis said, the reddest and the best trouts in England; but neither of these are to be reputed rivers, being no better than great springs. The river Wye, then, has its source near unto Buxton, a town some ten miles from hence, famous for a warm bath, and which you are to ride through in your way to Manchester: a black water too at the fountain, but, by the same reason with Dove, becomes very soon a most delicate clear river, and breeds admirable trout and grayling, reputed by those, who, by living upon its banks, are partial to it, the best of any; and this running down by Ashford, Bakewell, and Haddon, at a town a little lower called Rowsley, falls into Derwent and there loses its name. The next in order, is Derwent, a black water too, and that not only from its fountain but quite through its progress, not having these crystal springs to wash and cleanse it, which the two fore-mentioned have; but abounds with trout and grayling, such as they are, towards its source, and with salmon below: and this river, from the upper and utmost part of this county, where it springs, taking its course by Chatsworth, Darley, Matlock, Derby, Burrow-Ash, and Awberson, falls into Trent at a place called Wildon, and there loses its name. The east side of this county of Derby is bounded by little inconsiderable rivers, as Awber, Eroways, and the like, scarce worth naming, but trouty too, and further we are not to inquire. But, sir, I have carried you, as a man may say, by water, till we are now come to the descent of the formidable hill I told you of, at the foot of which runs the river Dove, which I cannot but love above all the rest; and therefore prepare your self to be a little frighted. Viat. Sir, I see you would fortify me, that I should not shame myself; but I dare follow where you please to lead me; and I see no danger yet; for the descent, methinks, is thus far, green, even, and easy. Pisc. You will like it worse presently, when you come to the brow of the hill:---and now we are there, what think you? Viat. What do I think? Why I think it the strangest place that ever sure, men and horses went down; and that, if there be any safety at all, the safest way is to alight. Pisc. I think so too for you, who are mounted upon a beast not acquainted with these slippery stones: and, though I frequently ride down, I will alight too, to bear you company, and to lead you the way; and, if you please, my man shall lead your horse. Viat. Marry, sir? and thank you too: for I am afraid I shall have enough to do to look to myself; and with my horse in my hand should be in a double fear, both of breaking my neck, and my horse's falling on me; for it is as steep as a penthouse. Pisc. To look down from hence it appears so, I confess; but the path winds and turns, and will not be found so troublesome. Viat. Would I were well down, though! Hoist thee! there's one fair 'scape! these stones are so slippery I cannot stand! yet again! I think I were best lay my heels in my neck, and tumble down. Pisc. If you think your heels will defend your neck, that is the way to be soon at the bottom. But give me your hand at this broad stone, and then the worst is past. Viat. I thank you, sir, I am now past it, I can go myself. What's here? the sign of a bridge. Do you use to travel with wheel-barrows in this country? Pisc. Not that I ever saw, sir. Why do you ask that question? Viat. Because this bridge certainly was made for nothing else; why a mouse can hardly go over it: it is not two fingers broad. Pisc. You are pleasant, and I am glad to see you so: but I have rid over the bridge many a dark night. Viat. Why, according to the French proverb, and 'tis a good one among a great many of worse sense and sound that language abounds in, Ce que Dieu garde, est bien garde, they whom God takes care of, are in safe protection: but, let me tell you, I would not ride over it for a thousand pounds, nor fall off it for two; and yet I think I dare venture on foot, though if you were not by to laugh at me, I should do it on all four. Pisc. Well, sir, your mirth becomes you, and I am glad to see you safe over; and now you are welcome into Staffordshire. Viat. How, Staffordshire! What do I there trow? There is not a word of Staffordshire in all my direction. Pisc. You see you are betrayed into it: but it shall be in order to something that will make amends; and 'tis but an ill mile or two out of your way. Viat. I believe all things, sir, and doubt nothing. Is this your beloved river Dove? 'Tis clear and swift, indeed, but a very little one. Pisc. You see it here at the worst; we shall come to it anon again after two miles riding, and so near as to lie upon the very banks. Viat. Would we were there once! But I hope we have no more of these Alps to pass over. Pisc. No, no, sir, only this ascent before you, which you see is not very uneasy; and then you will no more quarrel with your way. Viat. Well, if ever I come to London, of which many a man there, if he were in my place would make a question, I will sit down and write my travels; and, like Tom Coriate, print them at my own charge. Pray what do you call this hill we come down? Pisc. We call it Hanson Toot. Viat. Why, farewell Hanson Toot! I'll no more on thee: I'll go twenty miles about first. Pah! I sweat, that my shirt sticks to my back. Pisc. Come, sir, now we are up the hill, and now how do you? Viat. Why very well, I humbly thank you, sir, and warm enough, I assure you. What have we here, a church. As I'm an honest man, a very pretty church! Have you churches in this country, sir? Pisc. You see we have: but, had you seen none, why should you make that doubt, sir? Viat. Why, if you will not be angry, I'll tell you, I thought myself a stage or two beyond Christendom. Pisc. Come, come! we'll reconcile you to our country before we part with you: if showing you good sport with angling will do it. Viat. My respect to you, and that together may do much, sir: otherwise, to be plain with you, I do not find myself much inclined that way. Pisc. Well, sir, your raillery upon our mountains has brought us almost home. And look you where the same river of Dove has again met us to bid you welcome, and to invite you to a dish of trouts to-morrow. Viat. Is this the same we saw at the foot of Penmenmaure? It is a much finer river here. Pisc. It will appear yet much finer to-morrow. But look you, sir, here appears the house, that is now like to be your inn, for want of a better. Viat. It appears on a sudden, but not before 'twas looked for. It stands prettily, and here's wood about it, too, but as young, as appears to be of your own planting. Pisc. It is so. Will it please you to alight, sir.---And now permit me, after all your pains and dangers, to take you in my arms, and to assure you that you are infinitely welcome. Viat. I thank you, sir, and am glad with all my heart I am here; for, in downright truth, I am exceedingly weary. Pisc. You will sleep so much the better: you shall presently have a light supper and to bed. Viat. I, marry, sir, this glass of good sack has refreshed me. And I'll make as bold with your meat, for the trot has got me a good stomach. Pisc. Come, sir, fall to then, you see my little supper is always ready when I come home; and I'll make no stranger of you. Viat. That your meal is so soon ready, is a sign your servants know your certain hours, sir. I confess I did not expect it so soon; but now 'tis here, you shall see I will make myself no stranger. Pisc. Much good do your heart! and I thank you for that friendly word. And now, sir, my service to you in a cup of More-Lands ale; for you are now in the More-Lands, but within a spit and a stride of the Peak. Fill my friend his glass. Viat. Believe me, you have good ale in the More-Lands: far better than that at Ashbourn. Pisc. That it may soon be: for Ashbourn has, which is a kind of a riddle, always in it the best malt, and the worst ale in England. Come, take away, and bring us some pipes, and a bottle of ale, and go to your own suppers. Are you for this diet, sir? Viat. Yes, sir, I am for one pipe of tobacco; and I perceive yours is very good by the smell. Pisc. The best I can get in London, I assure you. But, sir, now you have thus far complied with my designs, as to take a troublesome journey into an ill country, only to satisfy me; how long may I hope to enjoy you? Viat. Why truly sir, as long as I conveniently can; and longer, I think, you would not have me. Pisc. Not to your inconvenience by any means, sir, but I see you are weary, and therefore I will presently wait on you to your chamber, where take counsel of your pillow, and to-morrow resolve me. Here! take the lights, and pray follow them, sir. Here you are like to lie: and, now I have showed you your lodgings, I beseech you command any thing you want; and so I wish you good rest! Viat. Good night, sir!
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