To ages yet unborn, unblemish'd stand, A gracious father and a faithful friend; And, to sum up his virtues, this was he Who was what all we should, but cannot be. To this it may be added, that in sundry parts of his writings, and even in his poems, the evidences of piety in the author are discernible: among them is a paraphrase on that noble and sublime hymn, the eighth Psalm. And in the poem entitled Stanzes Irreguliers, are the following lines: Dear Solitude! the soul's best friend, That man acquainted with himself dost make, And would be glad to do so still, For it is thou alone that keep'st the soul awake. And lastly, in the following book, he, in the person of Piscator, thus utters his own sentiment of a practice which few that love fishing, and have a sense of decorum, not to say of religion, would in these days of licence forbear! "A worm is so sure a bait at all times that, excepting in a flood, I would I had laid a thousand pounds that I did not kill fish, more or less, with it, winter or summer, every day in the year; those days always excepted that upon a more serious account always ought so to be :"* whence it is but just to infer, that the delight he took in fishing was never a temptation with him to profane the Sabbath. The inconsistences above pointed out, we leave the perusers of his various writings to reconcile; with this remark, that he must have possessed a mind well stored with ideas, and habituated to reflections, who could write such verses as immediately follow this account, and, in many respects, have been an amiable man, whom Walton could choose for his friend, and adopt for his son.-J. H. *Note- Chap. xi. ΤΟ MY MOST WORTHY FATHER AND FRIEND, MR IZAAK WALTON, THE ELDER. SIR,-Being you were pleased, some years past, to grant me your free leave to do what I have here attempted; and observing you never retract any promise when made in favour of your meanest friends, I accordingly expect to see these following particular directions for the taking of a Trout, to wait upon your better and more general rules for all sorts of angling. And though mine be neither so perfect, so well digested, nor indeed so handsomely couched, as they might have been, in so long a time as since your leave was granted, yet I dare affirm them to be generally true: and they had appeared, too, in something a neater dress, but that I was surprised with the sudden news of a sudden new edition of your Complete Angler; so that, having but a little more than ten days' time to turn me in, and rub up my memory, (for in truth, I have not, in all this long time, though I have often thought on 't, and almost as often resolved to go presently about it,) I was forced, upon the instant, to scribble what I here present you, which I have also endeavoured to accommodate to your own method. And, if mine be clear enough for the honest brothers of the angle readily to understand, (which is the only thing I aim at,) then I have my end; and shall need to make no farther apology; a writing of this kind not requiring (if I were master of any such thing) any eloquence to set it off or recommend it; so that you, in your better judgment, or kindness rather, can allow it passable for a thing of this nature, you will then do me honour if the cipher fixed and carved in the front of my little fishing-house may be here explained: and to permit me to attend you in public, who, in private, have ever been, am, and ever resolve to be, if SIR, Your most affectionate son and servant, BERESFORD, 10th of March, 1675-6. CHARLES COTTON. ΤΟ MY MOST HONOURED FRIEND, CHARLES COTTON, ESQ. SIR, You now see I have returned you your very pleasant and useful discourse of The Art of Fly Fishing, printed just as it was sent me ; for I have been so obedient to your desires, as to endure all the praises you have ventured to fix upon me in it. And when I have thanked for them, as the effects of an undissembled love, then, let me tell you, sir, that I will really endeavour to live up to the character you have given me, if there were no other reason, yet for this alone, that you, that love me so well, and always think what you speak, may not, for my sake, suffer by a mistake in your judgment. of And, sir, I have ventured to fill a part of your margin, by way of paraphrase, for the reader's clearer understanding the situation both of your fishing-house, and the pleasantness of that you dwell in. And I have ventured also to give him a Copy of Verses that you were pleased to send me, now some years past, in which he may see a good picture of both; and so much of your own mind, too, as will make any reader, that is blessed with a generous soul, to love you the better. I confess, that for doing this you may justly judge me too bold: if you do, I will say so too; and so far commute for my offence, that, though I be more than a hundred miles from you, and in the eighty-third year of my age, yet I will forget both, and next month begin a pilgrimage to beg your pardon; for I would die in your favour, and till then will live, SIR, Your most affectionate Father, * and Friend, IZAAK WALTON. LONDON, April 29, 1676. * It was a practice with the pretended masters of the Hermetic science, to adopt favourite persons for their sons, to whom they imparted their secrets. Ashmole, in his Diary, p. 25, says, "Mr Backhouse told me, I must now needs be his son, because he had communicated so many secrets to me." And a little after, p. 27, My father Backhouse, lying sick in Fleet street, told me, in syllables, the true matter of the philosopher's stone, which he bequeathed to me as a legacy." See more of this practice, and of the tremendous solemnities with which the secret was communicated, in Ashmole's Theat. Chem. Brit. p. 440. And, in imitation of this practice, Ben Jonson adopted several persons his sons, to the number of twelve or fourteen; among whom were Cartwright, Randolph, and Alexander Brome. And it should seem, by the text, that Walton followed the above mentioned examples, by adopting Cotton for his son. STANZES IRREGULIERS, TO MR IZAAK WALTON. Farewell, thou busy world, and may We never meet again; Here I can eat, and sleep, and pray, Good God! how sweet are all things here! How cleanly do we feed and lie! What peace, what unanimity! Oh, how happy here's our leisure! By turns to come and visit ye! Dear Solitude, the soul's best friend, That man acquainted with himself dost make, And all his Maker's wonders to intend, With thee I here converse at will, And would be glad to do so still, For it is thou alone that keep 'st the soul awake. How calm and quiet a delight Is it, alone, To read and meditate and write, By none offended, and offending none ! O my beloved nymph, fair Dove, Upon thy flowery banks to lie, And view thy silver stream, And with my angle, upon them The all of treachery I ever learn'd, industriously to try! Such streams Rome's yellow Tiber cannot show, The Maese, the Danube, and the Rhine Beloved Dove, with thee Nay, Tame and Isis, when conjoin'd, submit, O my beloved rocks, that rise To awe the earth and brave the skies, Giddy with pleasure, to look down; And, from the vales, to view the noble heights above! And all anxieties, my safe retreat; What safety, privacy, what true delight, In the artificial night Your gloomy entrails make, How oft, when grief has made me fly, To hide me from society, E'en of my dearest friends, have I, In your recesses' friendly shade, All my sorrows open laid, And my most secret woes intrusted to your privacy! Lord! would men let me alone, What an over-happy one Should I think myself to be; Might I in this desert place, (Which most men in discourse disgrace,) Live but undisturb'd and free! Here, in this despised recess, Would I, maugre winter's cold, And the summer's worst excess, Without an envious eye On any thriving under fortune's smile, C. C. This he did not; for he was born 1630, and died in 1687. See the Account of his Life prefixed. |