Fish and fishing

Rowlandson, Anglers of 1811
Rowlandson, Anglers of 1811

It is remarkable that many men will go with eagerness to Walden Pond in the winter to fish for pickerel and yet not seem to care for the landscape. Of course it cannot be merely for the pickerel they may catch; there is some adventure in it; but any love of nature which they may feel is certainly very slight and indefinite. They call it going a-fishing, and so indeed it is, though perchance, their natures know better. Now I go a-fishing and a-hunting every day, but omit the fish and the game, which are the least important part. I have learned to do without them. They were indispensable only as long as I was a boy. I am encouraged when I see a dozen villagers drawn to Walden Pond to spend a day in fishing through the ice, and suspect that I have more fellows than I knew, but I am disappointed and surprised to find that they lay so much stress on the fish which they catch or fail to catch, and on nothing else, as if there were nothing else to be caught.

Henry David Thoreau, Journal January 26, 1853

When is a trout not a trout?

Schubert’s famous song is called ‘Die Forelle’ (the trout), but the focus is not on the fish itself. The narrative, such as it is, centres around the process of fishing and the narrator’s response to the trickery and seeming injustice involved.

In einem Bächlein helle, 
Da schoss in froher Eil 
Die launische Forelle 
Vorüber wie ein Pfeil.
Ich stand an dem Gestade
Und sah in süsser Ruh 
Des muntern Fischleins Bade 
Im klaren Bächlein zu.  

Ein Fischer mit der Rute 
Wohl an dem Ufer stand 
Und sah's mit kaltem Blute,
Wie sich das Fischlein wand. 
So lang dem Wasser Helle, 
So dacht' ich, nicht gebricht, 
So fängt er die Forelle 
Mit seiner Angel nicht.  

Doch endlich ward dem Diebe 
Die Zeit zu lang, er macht 
Das Bächlein tückisch trübe,
Und eh ich es gedacht, 
So zuckte seine Rute,
Das Fischlein zappelt dran, 
Und ich mit regem Blute
Sah die Betrogne an.  

In a bright little stream
Shooting past in carefree haste
Was a capricious trout,
Going off like an arrow:
I stood by the edge of the water
And in sweet peace I watched
The lively little fish as it bathed
In the clear little stream.

A fisherman with his rod
Was standing on the bank, though,
And cold bloodedly he watched
As the little fish twisted.
So long as the bright water
Is not disturbed, I thought,
He won't be able to catch the trout
With his fishing rod.

But in the end the thief felt
That it was taking too long; he made
The little stream treacherously cloudy:
Before I realised it,
His rod started twitching;
The little fish wriggled about on it;
And I, with my blood boiling,
Watched on as she was tricked.

Schubart, Die Forelle 		D 550

However, when Schubert set the poem to music in 1817 (and when he wrote out copies of the song later) he deliberately omitted the poet’s final stanza:

Ihr, die ihr noch am Quelle 
Der sichern Jugend weilt, 
Denkt doch an die Forelle; 
Seht ihr Gefahr, so eilt! 
Meist fehlt ihr nur aus Mangel 
Der Klugheit; Mädchen, seht 
Verführer mit der Angel - 
Sonst blutet ihr zu spät.

Those of you who are still near the source
Of confident youth, waiting there,
Remember that trout;
When you see danger, then hurry away!
The main danger for you is a lack
Of wisdom; Girls, look out for
Seducers with their rods - 
Otherwise it will be too late and you will bleed.

Christian Schubart wrote this poem in 1782, and on the surface he presents it as a simple moral lesson. The trout is not a trout but a warning. Girls need to avoid the trickery of men with their rods.

Yet even here he is muddying the waters. His original readers would have been aware that the author himself had been the victim of trickery in 1777 when the agents of the Duke of Würtemburg had lured him to a monastery and managed to arrest him. Schubart the writer had struck the Duke as a slippery fish and he was determined to silence him. He was immediately held in solitary confinement and initially refused access to writing materials. After a vocal campaign on the writer’s behalf his conditions were relaxed slightly and Schubart was able to write the poems which were eventually published in 1785 as Gedichte aus dem Kerker (Poems from inside the prison cell). Die Forelle was part of this collection. The poet was using the publication as part of a campaign to defeat the Duke and the whole system of arbitrary authoritarian government that he represented. For Schubart it was the Duke who was the trout and he himself was the wily angler.

Men with their rods and wily women: tricking the trickster

Das Wasser rauscht', das Wasser schwoll,
Ein Fischer saß daran,
Sah nach dem Angel ruhevoll,
Kühl bis ans Herz hinan.
Und wie er sitzt, und wie er lauscht,
Theilt sich die Flut empor.
Aus dem bewegten Wasser rauscht
Ein feuchtes Weib hervor.

Sie sang zu ihm, sie sprach zu ihm:
Was lockst du meine Brut
Mit Menschenwitz und Menschenlist
Hinauf in Todesglut?
Ach, wüsstest du, wie's Fischlein ist
So wohlig auf dem Grund,
Du stiegst herunter, wie du bist,
Und würdest erst gesund.

Labt sich die liebe Sonne nicht,
Der Mond sich nicht im Meer?
Kehrt wellenatmend ihr Gesicht
Nicht doppelt schöner her?
Lockt dich der tiefe Himmel nicht?
Das feuchtverklärte Blau?
Lockt dich dein eigen Angesicht
Nicht her in ew'gen Tau?

Das Wasser rauscht', das Wasser schwoll,
Netzt' ihm den nackten Fuß;
Sein Herz wuchs ihm so sehnsuchtsvoll
Wie bei der Liebsten Gruß.
Sie sprach zu ihm, sie sang zu ihm;
Da war's um ihn geschehn:
Halb zog sie ihn, halb sank er hin,
Und ward nicht mehr gesehn.

The water roared, the water swelled up,
A fisherman was sitting by it,
Watching his fishing rod calmly,
Keeping cool even down to the heart.
And as he sits and as he listens,
The floods rise up and divide:
Out of the perturbed water there surges
Forth a damp woman.

She sang to him, she spoke to him:
"Why are you tricking my brood
With human teasing and human cunning,
Luring them up into the deadly glow?
Oh if only you knew what it was like to be a little fish
So happy on the sea bed,
You would climb down, just as you are,
And that would heal you once and for all.

Does not the dear sun refresh itself
In the sea, the moon too?
Do not their faces, breathing the waves,
Appear doubly beautiful when reflected?
Does not the deep heaven attract you,
With its blue transfigured by water?
Are you not attracted by your own face
Here into the eternal dew?"

The water roared, the water swelled up,
Wetting his naked foot;
His heart grew so full of yearning,
As if greeted by his beloved.
She spoke to him, she sang to him;
Then he had had it;
She half pulled him, he half sank down,
And he was never seen again.

Goethe, Der Fischer	D 225

Goethe’s narrative (written in 1778) is based on a common theme in many cultures – the lure of the deep, and in particular the dangers posed to mariners and fishermen by archetypal watery women (mermaids, rusalki, lorelei etc.). They appear again in a number of Schubert songs (e.g. Wie Ulfru fischt D 525, Fischerweise D 881).

Most references to fishing in the Schubert song texts adopt the common gendering. It is the men doing the fishing and the women doing the luring. There appears to be only one exception to this, in Heine’s strange Das Fischermädchen (written in 1823), where it appears to be the male that is seducing the female by appealing to the watery nature of his heart, ebbing and flowing as it does like the ocean. He invites her to plunge into his depths, where she will find ‘pearls’.

Du schönes Fischermädchen,
Treibe den Kahn ans Land -
Komm zu mir und setze dich nieder,
Wir kosen Hand in Hand.

Leg an mein Herz dein Köpfchen
Und fürchte dich nicht zu sehr,
Vertraust du dich doch sorglos
Täglich dem wilden Meer.

Mein Herz gleicht ganz dem Meere,
Hat Sturm und Ebb' und Flut,
Und manche schöne Perle
In seiner Tiefe ruht.

You beautiful fisher girl,
Push the boat onto the land;
Come to me and sit yourself down,
We shall have a loving chat holding hands.

Lay your little head on my heart
And do not be too afraid,
After all you fearlessly take risks
Every day on the wild sea.

My heart is just like the sea,
It has storms, it ebbs and flows,
And lots of beautiful pearls
Are resting in its depths.

Heine, Das Fischermädchen 	D 957/10

Can there be any form of fishing (literal or metaphorical) that does not involve deception and trickery? Is it inherently a matter of ‘making a catch’? There is one clear example of a fisherman in Schubert whose relationship with his lover appears to be fully mutual and reciprocal, but in this case the fisherman is not fishing when he is out on the water. His girlfriend does not emerge from the deep but leaves her room on land to join him on his fishing boat. There are no references to one capturing the other or attempts at trickery. There is only fulfilment and bliss in Des Fischers Liebesglück.

Dort blinket
Durch Weiden
Und winket
Ein Schimmer
Blassstrahlig
Vom Zimmer
Der Holden mir zu.
 
Es gaukelt
Wie Irrlicht
Und schaukelt
Sich leise
Sein Abglanz
Im Kreise
Des schwankenden Sees.
 
Ich schaue
Mit Sehnen
Ins Blaue
Der Wellen,
Und grüße
Den hellen,
Gespiegelten Strahl.
 
Und springe
Zum Ruder
Und schwinge
Den Nachen
Dahin auf
Dem flachen,
Kristallenen Weg.
 
Fein-Liebchen
Schleicht traulich
Vom Stübchen
Herunter
Und sputet
Sich munter
Zu mir in das Boot.
 
Gelinde
Dann treiben
Die Winde
Uns wieder
Seeeinwärts
Vom Flieder
Des Ufers hindann.
 
Die blassen
Nachtnebel
Umfassen
Mit Hüllen
Vor Spähern
Den stillen,
Unschuldigen Scherz.
 
Und tauschen
Wir Küsse,
So rauschen
Die Wellen
Im Sinken
Und Schwellen,
Den Horchern zum Trotz.
 
Nur Sterne
Belauschen
Uns ferne
Und baden
Tief unter
Den Pfaden
Des gleitenden Kahns.
 
So schweben
Wir selig,
Umgeben
Vom Dunkel,
Hoch überm
Gefunkel
Der Sterne einher.
 
Und weinen
Und lächeln,
Und meinen,
Enthoben
Der Erde,
Schon oben,
Schon drüben zu sein.

Gleaming over there,
Through the willows,
And beckoning,
There is a shimmer
Faintly shining
From the room
Of my beloved, calling to me.

It is fluttering
Like a will o' the wisp,
And swaying
Gently
Its reflection appears
In the circle
Of the undulating lake.

I gaze
With longing
Into the blue
Of the waves,
And I greet
The bright
Mirrored beam.

And I jump
To the oar,
And I swing
The boat
Out onto
The flat
Crystalline path.

My darling
Creeps steathily
Out of her little room
And comes down,
And hurries
Cheerfully
Towards me in the boat.

Gently
We are then driven
By the winds
Back again
Onto the lake
Away from the lilacs
On the bank.

The pale
Night-time mist
Surrounds us
And protects us
From being observed
As we quietly
Play our innocent game.

And as we exchange
Kisses,
The sound
Of the waves
As they sink
And swell
Defies anyone who is eavesdropping.

Only the stars
Observe
Us from afar,
And they bathe
Deep underneath
The pathway
Of the floating boat.

Thus we hover
In bliss,
Surrounded 
By darkness,
High above
The sparkling
Of the stars.

And we cry
And smile
And imagine ourselves
Lifted up above
The earth,
Already high up,
Already in the beyond.

Leitner, Des Fischers Liebesglück  D 933

☙

Descendant of: 

WATER   Animals   HUNTING AND MINING   FOOD AND DRINK  


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