Part 26

Let us guard, however, against misconceptions. There are people in Europe who confuse the natural qualities of the two sexes, and desire that men and women should be, not only equal, but also similar to one another. That would give them both the same functions, the same duties and the same rights, and would have them mingle in everything, in work, in pleasures, and in business. But the attempt to secure this kind of equality between the two sexes, only degrades them both, and must result in unmanly men, and unwomanly women.

The Americans have not thus mistaken the kind of democratic equality which ought to hold between man and woman. They know that progress does not consist in forcing these dissimilar temperaments and faculties into the same mould, but in securing that each shall fulfil his or her task in the best possible way. They have most carefully separated the functions of man and woman, in order that the great work of social life may be most prosperously carried on.

In America, far more than elsewhere, the lines of action of the two sexes have been clearly divided. You do not find American women directing the external affairs of the family, or entering into business or into politics; but neither do you find them obliged to undertake the rough labours of the field, or any other work requiring physical strength. There are no families so poor as to form an exception to this rule.

So it is that American women often unite a masculine intelligence and a virile energy with an appearance of great refinement and altogether womanly manners.

One has often noticed in Europe a certain tinge of contempt even in the flatteries which men lavish on women; and although the European often makes himself a slave of a woman, it is easy to see that he never really regards her as his equal. But in the United States men rarely praise women, though they show their esteem for them every day.

Americans show, in fact, a full confidence in woman's reason, and a profound respect for her liberty. They realise that her mind is just as capable as that of man to discover truth, and that her heart is just as courageous in following it; and they have never tried to shelter or to guide her by means of prejudice, ignorance, or fear.

For my part I do not hesitate to say that the singular prosperity and the evergrowing power of the American people is due to the superiority of American women.

_V.--The Perfectibility of Man_

Equality suggests many ideas which would never have arisen without it, and among others the notion that humanity can reach perfection--a theory which has practical consequences of great interest.

In countries where the population is classed according to rank, profession, and birth, and everyone has to follow the career to which he happens to be born, each is conscious of limits to his power, and does not attempt to struggle against an inevitable destiny. Aristocratic peoples do not deny that man may be improved, but they think of this as an amelioration of the individual, and not as a change in social circumstances, and while they admit that humanity has made great progress, they believe in certain limits which it cannot pass. They do not think, for instance, that we shall arrive at sovereign good or at absolute truth.

But in proportion as caste and class-distinction disappear, the vision of an ideal perfection arises before the human mind. Continual changes are ever taking place, some of them to his disadvantage, but the majority to his advantage, and the democrat concludes that man in general is capable of arriving at perfection. His reverses teach him that no one has yet discovered absolute good, and his frequent successes excite him to pursue it. Always seeking, falling, and rising again, often deceived, but never discouraged, he hastens towards an immense grandeur which he dimly conceives as the goal of humanity. This theory of perfectibility exercises prodigious influence even on those who have never thought of it. For instance, I ask an American sailor why the ships of his country are built to last only a few years; and he tells me without hesitation that the art of shipbuilding makes such rapid progress every day, that the finest ship constructed to-day must be useless after a very short time. From these words, spoken at random by an uneducated man, I can perceive the general and systematic idea which guides this great people in every matter.

_VI.--American Vanity_

All free people are proud of themselves, but national pride takes different forms. The Americans, in their relations with strangers, are impatient of the least criticism, and absolutely insatiable for praise. The slightest congratulation pleases them, but the most extravagant eulogium is not enough to satisfy them; they are all the time touting for your praise, and if you are slow to give it they begin praising themselves. It is as if they were doubtful of their own merit. Their vanity is not only hungry, but anxious and envious. It gives nothing, and asks insistently. It is both supplicant and pugnacious. If I tell an American that his country is a fine one, he replies, "It is the finest in the world." If I admire the liberty which it enjoys, he answers, "There are few people worthy of such liberty." I remark on the purity of manners in the United States, and he says, "Yes, a stranger who knows the corruption of other nations must indeed be astonished at us." At length I leave him to the contemplation of his country and of himself, but he presently runs after me, and will not go away until I have repeated it all over again. It is a kind of patriotism that worries even those who honour it.

The Englishman, on the contrary, tranquilly enjoys the real or imaginary advantages which his country affords. He cares nothing for the blame nor for the praise of strangers. His attitude towards the whole world is one of disdainful and ignorant reserve. His pride seeks no nourishment; it lives on itself. It is very remarkable that the two people who have arisen from the same stock should differ so radically in their way of feeling and speaking.

In aristocratic countries, great families possess enormous privileges, on which their pride rests. They consider these privileges as a natural right inherent in their person, and their feeling of superiority is therefore a peaceful one. They have no reason to boast of the prerogatives which everyone concedes to them without question. So, when public affairs are directed by an aristocracy, the national pride tends to take this reserved, haughty, and independent form.

Under democratic conditions, on the contrary, the least advantage which anyone gains has great importance in his eyes; for everyone is surrounded by millions very nearly his equal. His pride therefore becomes anxious and insatiable; he founds it on miserable trifles and defends it obstinately. Again, most Americans have recently acquired the advantages which they possess, and therefore have inordinate pleasure in contemplating these advantages, and in showing them to others; and as these advantages may escape at any moment, they are always uneasy about them, and look at them again and again to see that they still have them. Men who live in democracies love their country as they love themselves, and model their national vanity upon their private vanity. The close dependence of this anxious and insatiable vanity of democratic peoples upon the equality and fragility of their conditions is seen from the fact that the members of the proudest nobility show exactly the same passionate jealousy for the most trifling circumstances of their life when these become unstable or are contested.

IZAAK WALTON

The Compleat Angler

Izaak Walton, English author and angler, was born at Stafford on August 9, 1593, and until about his fiftieth year lived as a linen-draper in London. He then retired from business and lived at Stafford for a few years; but returned to London in 1650, and spent his closing years at Winchester, where he died on December 15, 1683, and was buried in the cathedral there. Walton was thrice married, his second wife being sister of the future Bishop Ken. He had a large acquaintance with eminent clergymen, and among his literary friends were Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton. He was author of several charming biographies, including those of the poet Donne, 1640, of Sir Henry Wotton, 1651, of Richard Hooker, 1652, and of George Herbert, 1670. But by far his most famous work is "The Compleat Angler; or, the Contemplative Man's Recreation," published in 1653. There were earlier books on the subject in English, such as Dame Juliana Berner's "Treatise pertaining to Hawking, Hunting, and Fishing with an Angle," 1486; the "Book of Fishing with Hook and Line," 1590; a poem, "The Secrets of Angling," by John Denny, 1613; and several others. The new thing in Walton's book, and the secret of its unfading popularity, is the charm of temperament. Charles Lamb well said that it "breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity, and simplicity of heart." A sequel to the book, entitled the "Second Part of the Compleat Angler," was written by Charles Cotton, and published in 1676.

_The Virtues of Angling_

PISCATOR, VENATOR, AND AUCEPS

_Piscator._ You are well overtaken, gentlemen! A good morning to you both! I have stretched my legs up Tottenham Hill to overtake you, hoping your business may occasion you towards Ware, whither I am going this fine fresh May morning.

_Venator._ Sir, I, for my part, shall almost answer your hopes, for my purpose is to drink my morning's draught at the Thatched House. And, sir, as we are all so happy to have a fine morning, I hope we shall each be the happier in each other's company.

_Auceps._ Sir, I shall, by your favour, bear you company as far as Theobald's, for then I turn up to a friend's house, who mews a hawk for me. And as the Italians say, good company in a journey maketh the way to seem the shorter, I, for my part, promise you that I shall be as free and open-hearted as discretion will allow with strangers.

_Piscator._ I am right glad to hear your answers. I shall put on a boldness to ask you, sir, whether business or pleasure caused you to be up so early, for this other gentleman hath declared he is going to see a hawk that a friend mews for him.

_Venator._ Sir, I intend to go hunting the otter.

_Piscator._ Those villainous vermin, for I hate them perfectly, because they love fish so well, or rather destroy so much. For I, sir, am a brother of the angle.

_Auceps._ And I profess myself a falconer, and have heard many grave, serious men scoff at anglers and pity them, as it is a heavy, contemptible, dull recreation.

_Piscator._ You know, gentlemen, it is an easy thing to scoff at any art or recreation; a little wit mixed with all nature, confidence, and malice will do it; but though they often venture boldly, yet they are often caught, even in their own trap.

There be many men that are by others taken to be serious, and grave men, which we contemn and pity: men that are taken to be grave because nature hath made them of a sour complexion--money-getting men, men that are condemned to be rich; for these poor, rich men, we anglers pity them most perfectly. No, sir! We enjoy a contentedness above the reach of such dispositions.

_Venator._ Sir, you have almost amazed me; for though I am no scoffer, yet I have--I pray let me speak it without offence--always looked upon anglers as more patient and simple men than, I fear, I shall find you to be.

_Piscator._ Sir, I hope you will not judge my earnestness to be impatience! As for my simplicity, if by that you mean a harmlessness which was usually found in the primitive Christians, who were, as most anglers are, followers of peace--then myself and men of my profession will be glad to be so understood. But if, by simplicity, you mean to express a general defect, I hope in time to disabuse you.

But, gentlemen, I am not so unmannerly as to engross all the discourse to myself; I shall be most glad to hear what you can say in the commendation of your several recreations.

_Auceps._ The element I use to trade in, the air, is an element of more worth than weight; an element that doubtless exceeds both the earth and water; in it my noble falcon ascends to such a height as the dull eye of man is not able to reach to; my troop of hawks soars up on high, so that they converse with the gods.

And more, the worth of this element of air is such that all creatures whatsoever stand in need of it. The waters cannot preserve their fish without air; witness the not breaking of ice and the result thereof.

_Venator._ Well, sir, I will now take my turn. The earth, that solid, settled element, is the one on which I drive my pleasant, wholesome, hungry trade. What pleasure doth man take in hunting the stately stag, the cunning otter! The earth breeds and nourishes the mighty elephant, and also the least of creatures! It puts limits to the proud and raging seas, and so preserves both man and beast; daily we see those that are shipwrecked and left to feed haddocks; but, Mr. Piscator, I will not be so uncivil as not to allow you time for the commendation of angling; I doubt we shall hear a watery discourse--and I hope not a long one.

_Piscator._ Gentlemen, my discourse is likely to prove suitable to my recreation--calm and quiet.

Water is the eldest daughter of the creation, the element upon which the spirit of God did first move. There be those that profess to believe that all bodies are water, and may be reduced back into water only.

The water is more productive than the earth. The increase of creatures that are bred in the water is not only more miraculous, but more advantageous to man for the preventing of sickness. It is observed that the casting of Lent and other fish days hath doubtless been the cause of these many putrid, shaking agues, to which this country of ours is now more subject.

To pass by the miraculous cures of our known baths the Romans have made fish the mistress of all their entertainments; and have had music to usher in their sturgeons, lampreys, and mullets.

_Auceps._ Sir, it is with such sadness that I must part with you here, for I see Theobald's house. And so I part full of good thoughts. God keep you both.

_Venator._ Sir, you said angling was of great antiquity, and a perfect art, not easily attained to. I am desirous to hear further concerning those particulars.

_Piscator._ Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly? A trout! more sharp-sighted than any hawk! Doubt not, angling is an art worth your learning. The question is rather, whether you be capable of learning it? Angling is like poetry--men are to be born so. Some say it is as ancient as Deucalion's flood, and Moses makes mention of fish-hooks, which must imply anglers.

But as I would rather prove myself a gentleman by being learned, and humble, valiant, and inoffensive, virtuous, and communicable, than by any fond ostentation of riches, or, wanting those virtues, boast these were in my ancestors, so if this antiquity of angling shall be an honour to this art, I shall be glad I made mention of it.

I shall tell you that in ancient times a debate hath arisen, whether the happiness of man doth consist more in contemplation or action?

Some have endeavoured to maintain their opinion of the first by saying that the nearer we mortals approach to God by way of imitation, the more happy we are. And they say God enjoys Himself only by a contemplation of His own infiniteness, eternity, power, goodness and the like.

On the contrary, there want not men of equal authority that prefer action to be the more excellent, such as experiments in physics for the ease and prolongation of man's life. Concerning which two opinions I shall forbear to add a third, and tell you, my worthy friend, that both these meet together and do most properly belong to the most honest, quiet, and harmless art of angling.

An ingenious Spaniard says that "rivers and the inhabitants thereof were made for wise men to contemplate, and fools to pass by without consideration."

There be many wonders reported of rivers, as of a river in Epirus, that puts out any lighted torch, and kindles any torch that was not lighted; the river Selarus, that in a few hours turns a rod to stone, and mention is made of the like in England, and many others on historical faith.

But to tell you something of the monsters, or fish, call them what you will, Pliny says the fish called the Balæna is so long and so broad as to take up more length and breadth than two acres of ground; and in the river Ganges there be eels thirty feet long.

I know we islanders are averse to the belief of these wonders, but there are many strange creatures to be now seen. Did not the Prophet David say, "They that occupy themselves in deep water see the wonderful works of God"; and the apostles of our Saviour, were not they four simple fishermen; He found that the hearts of such men, by nature, were fitted for contemplation and quietness--men of sweet and peaceable spirits, as indeed most anglers are.

_Venator._ Sir, you have angled me on with much pleasure to the Thatched House, for I thought we had three miles of it. Let us drink a civil cup to all lovers of angling, of which number I am now willing to count myself, and if you will but meet me to-morrow at the time and place appointed, we two will do nothing but talk of fish and fishing.

_Piscator._ 'Tis a match, sir; I will not fail you, God willing, to be at Amwell Hill to-morrow before sun-rising.

_Master and Pupil_

_Piscator._ Sir, I am right glad to meet you. Come, honest Venator, let us be gone; I long to be doing.

_Venator._ Well, let's to your sport of angling.

_Piscator._ With all my heart. But we are not yet come to a likely place. Let us walk on. But let us first to an honest alehouse, where my hostess can give us a cup of her best drink.

Seneca says that the ancients were so curious in the newness of their fish, that they usually did keep them living in glass-bottles in their dining-rooms, and did glory much in the entertaining of their friends, to have the fish taken from under their tables alive that was instantly to be fed upon. Our hostess shall dress us a trout, that we shall presently catch, and we, with brother Peter and Goridon, will sup on him here this same evening.

_Venator._ And now to our sport.

_Piscator._ This is not a likely place for a trout; the sun is too high. But there lie upon the top of the water twenty Chub. Sir, here is a trial of my skill! I'll catch only one, and he shall be the big one, that has some bruise upon his tail.

_Venator._ I'll sit down and hope well; because you seem so confident.

_Piscator._ Look you, sir! The very one! Oh, 'tis a great logger-headed Chub! I'll warrant he will make a good dish of meat.

Under that broad beech tree yonder, I sat down when I was last a-fishing; and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly contention with the echo that lives in a hollow near the brow of that primrose-hill. There I sat viewing the silver stream slide away, and the lambs sporting harmlessly. And as I sat, these sights so possessed my soul, that I thought as the poet hath it:

"I was for that time lifted above earth; And possess'd joys not promised at my birth."

But, let us further on; and we will try for a Trout. 'Tis now past five of the clock.

_Venator._ I have a bite! Oh me! He has broke all; and a good hook lost! But I have no fortune! Sure yours is a better rod and tackling.

_Piscator._ Nay, then, take mine, and I will fish with yours. Look you, scholar, I have another. I pray, put that net under him, but touch not my line. Well done, scholar, I thank you.

And now, having three brace of Trouts, I will tell you a tale as we walk back to our hostess.

A preacher that was to procure the approbation of a parish got from a fellow preacher the copy of a sermon that was preached with great commendation by him that composed it; and though the borrower preached it, word for word, yet it was utterly disliked; and on complaining to the lender of it, was thus answered: "I lent you indeed my fiddle, but not my fiddlestick; for you are to know, everyone cannot make music with my words, which are fitted for my own mouth." And though I lend you my very rod and tacklings, yet you have not my fiddlestick, that is, the skill wherewith I guide it.

_Venator._ Master, you spoke very true. Yonder comes mine hostess to call us to supper; and when we have supped we will sing songs which shall give some addition of mirth to the company.

_Piscator._ And so say I; for to-morrow we meet again up the water towards Waltham.

_Fish of English Streams_

_Piscator._ Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling, as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did"; and so, God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.

And when I see how pleasantly that meadow looks; and the earth smells so sweetly too; I think of them as Charles the Emperor did of the City of Florence; "that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but on holidays."

To speak of fishes; the Salmon is accounted the king of fresh-water fish. He breeds in the rivers in the month of August, and then hastes to the sea before winter; where he recovers his strength and comes the next summer to the same river; for like persons of riches, he has his summer and winter house, to spend his life in, which is, as Sir Francis Bacon hath observed, not above ten years.

The Pike, the tyrant of the fresh-waters, is said to be the longest-lived of any fresh-water fish, but not usually above forty years. Gesner relates of a man watering his mule in a pond, where the Pike had devoured all the fish, had the Pike bite his mule's lips; to which he hung so fast, the mule did draw him out of the water. And this same Gesner observes, that a maid in Poland washing clothes in a pond, had a Pike bite her by the foot. I have told you who relate these things; and shall conclude by telling you, what a wise-man hath observed: "It is a hard thing to persuade the belly, because it has no ears."

Besides being an eater of great voracity, the Pike is observed to be a solitary, melancholy and a bold fish. When he is dressed with a goodly, rich sauce, and oysters, this dish of meat is too good for any man, but an angler, or a very honest man.

The Carp, that hath only lately been naturalised in England, is said to be the queen of rivers, and will grow to a very great bigness; I have heard, much above a yard long.

The stately Bream, and the Tench, that physician of fishes, love best to live in ponds. In every Tench's head are two little stones which physicians make great use of. Rondeletius says, at his being in Rome, he saw a great cure done by applying a Tench to the feet of a sick man.

But I will not meddle more with that; there are too many meddlers in physic and divinity that think fit to meddle with hidden secrets and so bring destruction to their followers.

The Perch is a bold, biting fish, and carries his teeth in his mouth; and to affright the Pike and save himself he will set up his fins, like as a turkey-cock will set up his tail. If there be twenty or forty in a hole, they may be catched one after the other, at one standing; they being, like the wicked of this world, not afraid, though their fellows and companions perish in their sight.

And now I think best to rest myself, for I have almost spent my spirits with talking.

_Venator._ Nay, good master, one fish more! For it rains yet; you know our angles are like money put to usury; they may thrive, though we sit still. Come, the other fish, good master!

_Piscator._ But shall I nothing from you, that seem to have both a good memory and a cheerful spirit?