Kitabı oku: «Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 705, June 30, 1877», sayfa 2

THE BRITISH ANGLER ON THE CONTINENT

It is a curious delusion, especially among writers of guide-books, that when an Englishman crosses the Channel and takes up his abode as a traveller in a strange country, he thereupon necessarily ceases to care for that truly English pastime, angling. The sportsman is expected to become a connoisseur of architecture, to delight in nothing but sweet or majestic landscapes, or to feel unwonted pleasure in a continual series of mountain walks. That some such delusion must exist is shewn by the persistent manner in which hundreds of persons who at home are ardent fishermen, and who would gladly take a holiday in Hampshire or seek some Scottish river, pass by the excellent streams and lakes which abound throughout the continent. The angler, with a martyr-like resignation, thinks only with a sigh of the trout feeding beneath the old gray willow-tree at home, but never attempts to try that skill in foreign waters which practice from boyhood has often rendered almost perfect. It is singular indeed how fishing is neglected on the continent by those who would find it a renewed pleasure; for in whatever land it may be pursued, no amusement is more refreshing to the brain-worker, with its variation of gentle or strong exercise, and its pleasant alternations of monotony and excitement.

A combination of fishing and travelling has the important advantage of rendering the traveller quite independent of that bugbear of all tourists, bad weather. In after-days he can call to mind how he has often seen the regular routine traveller pacing the salon of his hotel when the mists were rolling along the mountain-side and the passer-by in the valley was drenched with rain, whilst he was setting forth for a day among the grayling in some rushing Tyrolese stream, or pondering upon those charming and descriptive lines of Sir Henry Taylor's; and he will feel, we should hope, that not the least pleasurable days which the travelling angler meets with, have been those when the trout lay safely sunning themselves in the clear water:

 
The peaks are shelved and terraced round;
Earthward appear in mingled growth
The mulberry and maize; above
The trellised vine extends to both
The leafy shade they love;
Looks out the white-walled cottage here;
The lonely chapel rises near;
Far down the foot must roam to reach
The lovely lake and bending beach;
While chestnut green and olive gray
Chequer the steep and winding way.
 

The number of those who ever cast a thought to the obtaining of their favourite amusement when they have left Dover behind them, is singularly small, or who seek to vary the regular tourist's round by a day or two by the side of some little stream where the inhabitants look upon a fishing-rod as quite an unusual phenomenon. And yet many a man who, as he drives along a Tyrolese valley or passes a sombre lake shaded by pine-trees, must involuntarily recall pleasant days spent by some Highland stream. The river ripples by the roadside, the trout are 'on the feed;' but flies and fishing-rod are safe at home, and the alpenstock alone is at hand!

But if angling is a fascinating pastime to numbers of thoughtful minds among the familiar scenes of an English landscape, it becomes even more attractive, at anyrate for a time, when practised amid the scenery of a country new to the beholder. The angler finds many features in the landscape, charming perhaps in their minuteness, which the through-going traveller, who rushes quickly from place to place, can never enjoy. Nor are the opportunities of mixing with the various country-folks to be lightly prized; for the increasing number of large hotels, the numerous railways, and improved systems of travelling, not to speak of the numbers of actual travellers, render a leisurely acquaintance with the natives more and more difficult. And it must always be a pleasure to look back to the quaint, honest, and kindly folk with whom the traveller would never have come in contact had he left his rod and tackle at home.

We can remember a professional fisherman whose acquaintance we made one afternoon in a distant hamlet on an Alpine pass, from which the mighty mass of the Ortler Spitze could be seen glowing under the beams of the setting sun. The sporting instincts of this man were small, and like most foreigners, he looked upon fish solely as an article of food or merchandise. But how ready was he to explain every little detail that we inquired about; how genuinely pleased by the present of a few English flies; and how gratified to be asked for a brace of his own singular specimens of the fly-maker's art. Nor can the quaint stout landlord in the Black Forest be forgotten, who took such an ardent pleasure in telling of the manifold advantages of large hooks and a powerful line in order to haul the pike into the boat with as little of what an English angler would term 'play' as possible.

The fisherman intent on angling for angling's sake only, can obtain excellent sport with trout or grayling in the valleys of the Salzkammergut or in the Bavarian Highlands. Or among the orchards of Normandy when they are in their spring-tide bloom. No reasonable angler indeed can wish for better. But he who, besides being a lover of the gentle art, has a soul for scenery and a relish for the vicissitudes of travel, has advantages indeed. When tired of wielding his rod he turns to enjoy natural beauty under every mood – in its wildest or its most tranquil aspects. And he is ready, like De Quincey, to fraternise with and to observe every kind of man. He will, moreover, be one who, if works of art fall in his way, can find in reiterated views reiterated enjoyment. For if you find him in Normandy in quiet Evreux, fishing for the well-fed trout in the gently flowing, poplar-lined Iton, he will be paying frequent visits to the Gothic cathedral with a pleasure which increases every time he leaves the Hôtel du Cerf. When he is in the Black Forest, he knows that unless he puts himself en rapport with the simple husbandmen and industrious clockmakers of the Schwarzwald he cannot thoroughly enjoy himself; and as he walks through the meadows after a day on the Schluch See, he will feel that his landlord is his friend. Indeed, this kindly feeling which grows up between the travelling fisherman and those whom he meets, is one of the pleasantest features of this mode of holiday-making.

One of the great drawbacks to modern travel is the fact that only a few common features in the mere outward lives of the people, are observed; and even of their habits but few can really be properly gleaned by the passing traveller. The self-inflicted melancholy and unfortunate reserve of most English travellers is also a strong barrier against familiar intercourse with foreigners. John Bull has not yet acquired the secret of enjoyable outing, and gets but a poor return for his money. Certainly modern travellers would do well to notice how Dorothy Wordsworth, for instance, and her brother the poet associated with those among whom they travelled; how Dr Johnson would converse as readily with a gillie as he would argue with a Presbyterian minister; how Christopher North made the most of – Streams.

To enjoy to the full a travelling and angling tour, some familiarity with or some power of conversing in foreign languages – French, German, or Italian, all three if possible – is important. Of course, if you are staying at a place like St Moritz in the Engadine, where you find there is trout-fishing, and where English is spoken at all the hotels, you have little need for any language except your native tongue; though even then you are debarred from all conversation with the peasants or the fishermen. But it will also be found that the best angling, the most picturesque scenes, and the most economical inns, are in by-ways away from the main travelling lines; and that the best fishing stations are frequently by the side of some little frequented river, or on the banks of some solitary lake.

The choice of a companion is one of the most difficult matters, when you are projecting a fishing tour. Many an ardent angler is not satisfied unless he is continually throwing his fly or trolling his minnow; but as we have already hinted, the genuine travelling angler must have a mind capable of enjoying other things besides fishing. He must also be prepared for disappointments; for it is a different thing to go wandering along the course of say the Salzach or the Inn, to stationing yourself at places such as Glendalough, or Loch Tay, or Loch Leven, where you have only to pay your money and catch or try to catch your fish. Again of two friends, if one possesses the instincts and aspirations of the mountaineer only, and the other those of the fisherman only, it is unlikely that the tour will be a success.

No two persons suit each other better for a foreign piscatorial tour than an artist and an angler; for both find materials for their skill. Where David Cox could find materials for his pencil such as we see in the grand picture of the 'Salmon Trap,' the follower of Izaak Walton will assuredly not be without hope in the exercise of his delicate craft. Nor are ladies, if with proper tastes, unsuitable companions for the angling traveller. Even if they do not actually possess in common some taste such as painting, yet still sketching and fishing, or fishing and walking, or simply fishing and quiet travelling, can well be combined, provided each possesses a fair share of that cardinal virtue of all travellers – forbearance. Thus, with a moderate capability of walking, we see nothing to prevent a brother and a sister, or a husband and a wife, from pleasantly enjoying a tour that shall include angling.

None of the usual guide-books give any information upon the subject of continental fishing; and therefore it must be found out in the first instance whether some village or valley is a likely centre for the angler; and often it proves that some half-way posting inn is the very best station for his purpose. But if some amount of walking is undertaken, and the angler be of an inquiring disposition, there is no fear of overlooking any stream or lake by the wayside.

There is yet another pleasing attraction for the traveller who angles as he goes. This may be termed the natural history attraction; for not only are fresh varieties of fish made familiar to the angler to whom the trout, or grayling, or pike of his home serve as the personification of all fresh-water fish, but even new varieties of these fish are observed under entirely new conditions; and no fisherman of any intelligence who happens to spend a few days among the lakes of the Eastern Alps, will fail to make the acquaintance of that excellent fish, the coregonus. In speaking of this fish, Mr Francis Francis, a well-known writer on angling subjects, tells us that 'where varieties caused by water and locality are as plentiful as the lakes, where the distinctive differences between the fish themselves are but small, and where names are legion, the confusion is so great, that nothing but the utmost patience and perseverance, combined with large opportunities and the staunchest assistance, can ever hope to settle such moot-points as these questions of the identity of some fish with others. The coregoni are therefore as yet very much unexplored and debatable ground with naturalists.' We may add that intelligent and trustworthy observations by anglers are at all times of value, and that in addition to its many other charms, a fishing tour may fairly be said to be a directly instructive and intellectual pleasure, each successive fact that is stored up in the memory opening out yet another to the searching mind, and serving to prevent a captivating amusement from degenerating into a mere pot-hunting pursuit.

In the more mountainous districts, it is remarkable how many curious and characteristic legends may be found connected with different lakes. In the Tyrol especially, which is the beau-idéal of the angling traveller's holiday-ground, innumerable legends are to be found connected with every dark mountain lake or tarn. There is, for instance, a lake well known to many Swiss travellers who leave the usual route of tourists up or down the Lake of Lucerne, and rest for a while in the village of Seelisberg, situated above the spot where the confederates are supposed to have taken the oath which was the foundation of the Swiss Republic. Above this again, sheltered by the dark precipices of the Niederbauen, is the Seelisberger See, of which there is a legend that in it dwells a monster known as the Elbst. This beast can, Proteus-like, change its form, and the unconfiding swimmer resting, as he supposes, on the floating trunk of a fallen pine, is engulfed for ever in the waters of the lake. Thus, if one is not inattentive to the stories of the mountaineer, the angler may store his mind with much of the picturesque and characteristic folk-lore of the Alps.

Not a little of the charm of a fishing-tour arises, or ought to arise, from its leisurely character. But, as we have already hinted, the feverish anxiety to hurry from place to place which seems to characterise the fashion of travelling nowadays, precludes the traveller from enjoying any one place thoroughly. 'If,' he says to himself, 'I could shoot or fish it might be different.' Therefore it is that we would point to what we might almost term a new continental amusement, whereby the traveller may combine the recreation of good old Izaak Walton with the harder toil of the mountaineer, or the more sober pleasures of the botanist and the artist, to the increase of the enjoyment to be derived from each one of these pastimes.

It would be out of place here to enter into details concerning the equipment of the travelling fisherman. All we would now point out is that those flies which are useful in a Scotch or Welsh stream or on an Irish lake, are, as a rule, equally serviceable in a Swiss river or a Tyrolese lake. And the only important fact to bear in mind is, that the supply of flies should be tolerably large, though not necessarily very varied in kind, for the art of fly-making is not well known on the continent.

To point out localities for the fisherman would necessitate a geographical ramble over Europe; moreover, as it is the object of this paper to shew that fishing can be combined with most of the ordinary amusements of the general traveller, no special district need be sought for. It is sufficient here to mention the rivers of Normandy and Brittany, of the Vosges and the Ardennes for spring fishing; and the waters of Würtemberg, Bavaria, and Austria for sport later in the year. In the mountain district, for example, popularly called the Tyrol, the rivers are full of grayling, so that the autumn, far from being a blank time for the angler, will, even after the trout are becoming somewhat out of season, afford him excellent sport. And in the Tyrol especially are the inhabitants simple and hospitable in the extreme; the scenery of their country is characterised by extremes of wildness and softness, such, for instance, as the bleak grandeur of the distant end of the Königs See, and the softer beauties of the valley of the Alm. Though the ramifications of travel are everywhere spreading, it is never likely that in the lifetime of the present generation at least, the travelling angler, whose ways lie out of the beaten track, will be disturbed by any except a few kindred spirits.