SEPTEMBER, 1917 
FOREST 
A N U 
STREAM 
401 
IN THE HAUNTS OF IZAAK WALTON 
EVEN THE IMMORTAL ANGLER’S OWN MARVELLOUS INTELLECTUAL POWERS 
SINK INTO NOTHING WHEN COMPARED TO THE QUALITIES OF HIS HEART 
By LOUIS RHEAD 
y'z.a P-fe 
told tales of these giant fish. One was 
about the skull of a pike, found during a 
dry spell at the bottom of the mere, and 
in his jaws was the skull of a swan’s head. 
It had choked him, and both were of ne¬ 
cessity drowned.—Anyone could see the 
skull on a bracket in the hall of the manor. 
Madely Manor still stands just as it did 
when Walton visited it in 1653, the year 
that the Compleat Angler was first printed. 
He was then in his sixtieth year. Born 
of yeomen parents and brought up as a 
tradesman, by his splendid character he 
achieved distinction and became the friend 
of many of the most distinguished men of 
his day. 
A homeward trudge thro’ mist-wrapt night, 
A heart and creel, in common, light; 
Complete content, the day has brought it: 
He fished for pleasure—and he caught it. 
T HE character of Izaak Walton has 
been described by so many able writ¬ 
ers that the hope of exhibiting him in 
a new light or of increasing the number 
of his admirers would be presumptuous. 
His early years are as a closed book to 
us. We know he went up to London 
about the age of eighteen and started in 
business which must have been successful. 
Most that is known of him, to a certain 
extent, can be found in passages of his 
writings, especially in the Lives where he 
expressed his opinions more free¬ 
ly than in the classic Compleat 
Angler. 
I may be pardoned therefore 
where he expressed his opinions 
more freely than in the classic 
this worthy man. 
The writer was born and his 
happy boyhood was spent within 
thirteen miles of Stafford (Wal¬ 
ton’s birthplace) and about eighteen 
miles from beautiful Dovedale near¬ 
by where Cotton lived, and only 
three miles from Madely Manor, 
the country seat of John Offley, to 
whom Walton dedicated his immor¬ 
tal work. 
The village of Madely is a typical 
English country village, with a few 
thatched cottages, and a little old 
moss-covered church situated but a 
couple of miles from the old town 
of Newcastle-under-Lyme, whose 
civic pride stands high from the fact 
that its long line of mayors have 
performed their duties, good or bad, 
for over six hundred years. Up to 
this day the mayor on state occasions 
wears a gold chain that is so long 
and heavy it is necessary to have as¬ 
sistance to help him carry it. Each 
incoming mayor has attached to the 
chain a new link, upon which is en¬ 
graved the date of his office and 
his name. Originally the chain was 
just long enough to wear around 
the neck but that is now impossible. 
Many times has the writer with his elder 
brothers trudged along the road from New¬ 
castle to Madely Mere, a large sheet of 
water containing monster pike, and while 
on our way we would stop to fish for 
stickle-backs in the disused canal and take 
them in a glass jar to use as live bait. 
Young as we were we knew quite well the 
pike would not touch them till the sharp 
spines were removed—which made little 
difference in their liveliness. We could see 
the great savage pike lying motionless just 
under the lily pads, ready and waiting to 
dart out to our lure, but sure as fate they 
got away because of primitive tackle and 
more primitive methods. We had been 
J OHN OFFLEY, afterwards Sir John 
Offley, was connected with many old 
families of the nobility and gentry of 
the county of Stafford and being of a 
wealthy family, devoted most of his time 
to rod and reel. In his dedication, Wal¬ 
ton pays him high compliments on his an¬ 
gling skill, which no doubt they practiced 
together not only in Staffordshire but in 
other countries. 
Beresford Hall, the seat of Charles Cot¬ 
ton, was a rambling pile of stone buildings 
lying snug among the hills of Derbyshire 
just on the border line of the neighboring 
county of Stafford. Here the gentle river 
Dove meanders along through lovely hills 
and dales, and though I have not seen it 
Beresford Hall, the seat of 
Charles Cotton, was a rambling pile 
of stone buildings lying snug among 
the hills of Derbyshire just on the 
border line of the neighboring coun¬ 
ty of Stafford. Here the gentle river 
Dove meanders along through lovely 
hills and dales, and though I have 
not seen it for many years, this still 
remains to my mind the most beau¬ 
tiful spot in England. Both the hall 
and the famous fishing house in 1825 
were in a state of dilapidation and 
decay, and were sold at that time to 
Viscount Beresford and pulled down. 
The fishing house has been restored 
and is now protected by lock and 
key from vandals and excursionists. 
Walton frequently visited Cotton 
at Beresford during the Spring* and 
Summer months, sometimes alone 
and at others accompanied by his son 
or by a friend. In a letter to Cot¬ 
ton he says: “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 be¬ 
gin a pilgrimage to beg your pardon, 
for I would die in your favor.” 
The distance from London to 
Dovedale is 160 miles and in that 
time was a journey not to be taken 
lightly, though we have it on good 
authority that the road and coaches 
were the best in England, being the 
identical road that was made by the 
Romans. 
The river Dove is still free from pollu¬ 
tion, and is a tolerably good trout and 
grayling stream, being just wide enough 
and ideal for casting the fly. What must 
it have been in Walton’s time, to inspire 
such lines as the following, written by 
Cotton: 
Oh, my beloved nymph! fair Dove, 
Princess of Rivers, how I love 
Upon thy flow’ry hanks to be 
And view thy silvery stream 
When gilded by a summer’s beam; 
And in it all the wanton fry 
Playing at liberty; 
And with my angle upon them 
The all of treachery 
I ever learned, industriously to try. 
(continued on page 418) 
The accompanying paper, appre¬ 
ciative of the angling fraternity’s 
debt to the well-loved Walton, Mr. 
Rhead prepared for reading before 
the United Anglers’ League, at the 
first formal celebration of Sir 
Isaac’s birthday in America, on 
August 9 of this year. Forest and 
Stream is especially fortunate in be¬ 
ing able to reproduce these recollec¬ 
tions of the great angler’s favorite 
haunts, coincidentally with American 
anglers’ formal recognition of the 
debt they owe him. 
