Fishing from the Earliest Times

“Aristotle hath his Oare in every Water”

If the passage quoted in my Introduction left any doubt that Plato was no admirer of fishing or fishermen, the following, from The Laws, VII. 823 (Jowett’s translation), is conclusive proof.

“And, now, let us address young men in the form of a prayer for their welfare: O Friends, may no desire of hunting in the sea, or of catching the creatures in the waters, ever take possession of you, either when you are awake, or when you are asleep, by hooks, with weels, which latter is a very lazy contrivance, and let no desire of catching men, or piracy by sea, enter into your souls.”

Then Plato adds: “Only the best of hunting is allowed at all, which is carried on by men with horses, dogs, and men’s own persons,” and is really hard exercise. “Fishing is not an occupation worthy of a man well born or well brought up, because it demands more of address and ruse than force, and is not for young people, like hunting, the occasion of healthy exercise.”[242]

When expressing astonishment at the variety and extent of Aristotle’s knowledge, one of the characters of Athenæus asks from what Proteus or Nereus he could have found out all he writes about fishes and other animals.[243] The curiosity of the questioner was natural. It is, however, probable that Aristotle, from living for several years close to the sea and from his intercourse with fishermen, had amassed a big fund of information about fishes and other aquatic animals.

His knowledge of the Mediterranean fishes not only exceeded that of any ancient writer, but also, if Belon, Rondolet, and Salviani be excepted, that of any writer before Risso and Cuvier. However true may be the criticism of Dr. Günther that Aristotle’s “ideas of specific distinction were as vague as those of the fishermen whose nomenclature he adopted,” the fact cannot be gainsaid that Aristotle was, and remains, a very great Naturalist as well as a very great Biologist.

To him[244] by right belongs the distinction, which (except incidentally in Mr. Lones’ work[245]) I have so far failed to find attributed to him, of being the first writer to note, certainly the first to point out, that its scales make possible a shrewd, in the case of the murex an exact, computation of the age of a fish.

If from lack of the microscope he did not in all particulars antedate, he certainly blazed the trail for the discovery of scale-reading at the close of the eighteenth century by the Dutch microscopist van Leeuwenhoek[246] and its rediscovery as regards the carp in 1899 by Hoffbauer,[247] the Gadidæ and Pleuronectidæ in 1900-03 by J. Stuart Thomson,[248] and the Salmonidæ about 1904 by H. W. Johnston and others.[249]

He tells us in The Natural History, I. 1, that “what the feather is in a bird, the scale is in a fish”; in III. 11,[250] that “the scales of fish become harder and thicker, and in those which are wasting or aging, become still harder”; in VIII. 30, that “the old fish are distinguishable by the size” (note this!) “and the hardness of their scales.”[251]

He then buttresses this discovery of annual growth of scale by another fact resulting from his observation that “the Murex lives for about six years, and the yearly increase is indicated by a distinct interval in the spiral convolution of the shell,”[252] or as Bohn renders the words, “its annual increase is seen in the divisions on the helix of its shell.”

In Leeuwenhoek we read that, in the examination by a rough self-made microscope of the scales of a large tame carp, he counted the component scale-layers lying one above the other, “as if glued together,” and found without exception that a new layer larger than the one of the preceding year is added. The carp, accidentally killed when forty years old, possessed forty such layers in each scale. He adds pathetically—anticipating perhaps Lytton’s—

that “many people accused me of telling lies on the matter!”[253]

One cannot help being struck with acute astonishment that for over the 2000 years between Aristotle and Leeuwenhoek we obtain, with the exception[254] of nine words in Pliny (IX. 33), Senectutis indicium squamarum duritia, quæ non sunt omnibus similes, cribbed and condensed, as was often his wont, from Aristotle, little, if any, addition to our knowledge of scale-reading.

The ancient authors either ignore or are ignorant of it. Nowhere, not even in that close observer Oppian, that omnivorous reader Athenæus, that pleasant purloiner Ælian, do we read a single line on the subject. But our astonishment, even if we allow for absence of microscope, grows acuter, when we are met in the three most important Ichthyologists before the eighteenth century, Belon, Salviani, and Rondolet, with the same silence.

And this fate of silence apparently prevails even after Leeuwenhoek’s book; his discovery seems to have been lost or remained dormant in his pages till a score of years ago.

Had microscopes existed in his day, we may surely surmise that Aristotle would have perfected the system of scale-reading, and thus have come down to posterity with his title of “The Philosopher of the many Rings” better earned than by his foppish affection for jewellery.

In general opinion, the person most closely approaching the required Proteus or Nereus was his pupil and sometime friend, Alexander the Great. By placing at his disposal several thousand men to collect all kinds of animals and fishes from all parts of the then known world, he enabled him with the aid of the materials thus provided to produce his famous Natural History.

For this identification we have not a scrap of internal evidence, but merely the assertions of much later writers, such as Pliny, Athenæus (who adds that Philip gave him 800 talents to finish the History), and Ælian.[255]

Apart from want of intrinsic evidence, the fact that the geographical references and the fish mentioned in his Natural History nearly all cluster round Lesbos effectually precludes the idea of Alexander “Hagenbecking” for Aristotle.[256]

Internal evidence and reasons advanced by Professor D’Arcy Thompson[257] indicate that nearly all the animals and fishes with which Aristotle was practically acquainted belonged to Greece, Western Asia, and Sappho’s Lesbos (especially of the lagoon of Pyrrha), where he lived some four years just previous to his Macedonian trip, 343 b.c.

The fishes in his Natural History, mostly given without any attempt at classification or really adequate description, number at least one hundred and ten. He discusses in some instances the anatomical characteristics, food, breeding habits, migrations, and modes of capture. Of the hundred and ten only some fifty fish can be scientifically identified; of which, all save six come from the sea.

This figure of about one hundred and ten speaks wonders for his industry and knowledge. Even after the lapse of 1800 years separating him from the sixteenth century, the list of Mediterranean fishes compiled by Belon comprises but a hundred or so, and by Rondolet but some one hundred and sixty names. Risso, writing as late as 1810, furnishes no more than three hundred and fifteen, of which he asserts that eighty-eight had never been previously described.

Not unnaturally, this industry and this knowledge caused our author to be at Athens not only a stumbling-block unto the wise, but “a very wonder unto fools,” as the comedians said, who fastened on an occasional lapse, such as his theory that the whole race of shell fish generate without connection.

The Natural History nevertheless will always remain a monument of extraordinary diligence and mental vigour, especially when we bear in mind that he seemingly lacked any antiseptic preparation for the preservation of specimens. His pre-eminence of merit is indicated by the fact that of all the Greek and Latin authors he approximates nearest to some idea of zoological system.

And yet this father of science and this founder of logic makes a direct personal appeal to us as a man very human in his life and tastes. Epicurus, “that most truthful of men,”[258] alleges that, when young, Aristotle went the pace, and squandered his patrimony in good living and other pleasant delights. In addition to his love for jewellery and personal adornment we discover him as a great connoisseur of beautiful silver, of which he bequeathed over seventy rare bowls. He ranks in opsophagy as an epicure of the highest order.

It is curious to note that in Aristotle, who apparently was familiar with most, if not all, of the then existent methods, no mention, as far as I can recall, occurs of actual fishing, save his story of the fight and escape of a big Glanis.

He owed his knowledge largely to his intercourse with fishermen and his close acquaintance with the fish markets—a haunting of which in Mediterranean ports was, as in Naples it still is, productive of a liberal education from the numerous specimens displayed and the hundreds of vernacular names applied to them.

Contrast this with our British markets, where, despite our more favourable wealth of sea-harvest, the kinds on sale seldom exceed a score or so, and their vernacular names hardly reach half-a-hundred.

Granting, however, all the advantages accruing from such acquaintance[259] with fishers and fishmongers, it needed an Aristotle to produce a book of such keen observation and (generally) accurate conclusions as his Natural History: for be it remembered that this, when compared with the vast volume of his other works, is a mere by-product of his industry and intellect, thrown off probably in the few years of his banishment.

Little escaped his ken, or his pen.[260] At one moment he notes that neither hermaphroditism nor parthenogenesis are uncommon, at the next he deals with the senses in fish. The question whether fish do actually hear or do not hear, remains, comme les pauvres, always with us; it remains like Etna dormant for decades, suddenly to pour forth columns of print which lava-like scar the fair face of many a ream of paper.

Aristotle comes down flat-footed in his verdict: fishes (we read, IV. 8) in spite of having no visible auditory organs undoubtedly do hear; “for they are observed to run away from any loud noises like the rowing of a galley. Indeed some people dwelling near the sea affirm that of all living creatures the fish is the quickest of hearing.”

Space forbids my dwelling on the various theories as to whether the undoubted effect of their being disturbed by certain noises is attained by hearing proper, or by vibration acting on the surface part of the fish and communicating instantly with the internal ear.

Day’s summary of the question, still regarded after thirty years as fair and conclusive, even if attaching undue importance to the fontanelles, is as follows. “Hearing is developed in fish, and it is very remarkable how any diversity of opinion can exist as to their possessing this sense. The internal auditory apparatus is placed within the cranial cavity: its chief constituent parts are the labyrinth, which is composed of three semi-circular canals, and a vestibule, which latter expands into one or more sacs, where the ear bones or otoliths are lodged. A tympanum and tympanic cavity are absent. They possess fontanelles between the bones, forming the roof of the skull, which being closed by very thin bones or skin permit sounds from the surrounding water to be readily transmitted to the contiguous internal ears. But the chief mode in which hearing is carried on must be due to the surface of the fish being affected by vibration of the water, and the sounds are transmitted directly to the internal ear, or else by means of the air-bladder acting as a sounding drum.”[261]

It goes against the grain to differ with such a charmful and theme-ful author as Sir Herbert Maxwell. But his conclusion[262] that fish in Loch Ken were disturbed every time a shooting party half to three-quarters of a mile away discharged their guns cannot be reconciled with the experiments made by me in July 1918 to test the behaviour of trout, when guns were fired, not half a mile away, but quite close to them.

Three of us, all accustomed to watching fish, selected a narrow shallow burn in which the trout ran from fingerlings up to fish three or four years old. Each in turn fired the gun (an ordinary 12 bore C.F.), with the usual shooting charge of powder and No. 5 shot. At the first two trials only was the shot extracted, so as to eliminate any vibration set up by its striking the opposite bank. Two of us lying hidden in the grass observed from different spots.

The gun was fired eight feet, four feet, and three feet above the surface of the stream, which varied in breadth from eight to ten feet, and in depth from sixteen to nineteen inches. It was fired into the air and into the opposite bank (struck from four to two feet above the water) in a direct line above different fishes, lying either singly or in shoals from five to nine inches from the bottom in small pools or runs sixteen to nineteen inches deep. Care was taken to fire up stream, to prevent the trout being startled by the flash of the cartridge.

In no case did the trout take the very least notice, or give any sign of having heard the explosion or felt the concussion of the shot on the opposite bank, composed on three occasions of alluvial soil and on two of rock. Never once did a fish move or go down: in fact, in one of the experiments over a single well-grown trout, the fish was rising again to the natural fly in less than thirty seconds after the discharge of the gun.[263]

Aristotle almost certainly learnt dissection when young. His father belonged to the Asclepiads, an order of priest-physicians who are believed to have practised dissection and taught it to their children. The son’s extensive knowledge of the internal parts of mammals, birds, and fishes probably resulted from dissections. Mr. Lones names forty-nine animals and fishes which from the trustworthiness of the definite information imparted were (he holds) certainly dissected. Of these some five are fish.

To the question whether Aristotle ever dissected the human body, the answer after examining the evidence available must, I think, be in the negative, for three reasons. First: after describing the external parts of the human body he states that the internal parts are less known than those of animals, and that we must, in order to describe them, examine the corresponding parts of animals which are most nearly related to man.

Second: his many mistakes—such as in the position of the heart being above the lungs, the emptiness of the occiput, etc.—can hardly be casual slips made by one familiar with human dissection. The passage, however, in Nat. Hist., VII. 3, points distinctly to his having to some degree dissected the fœtus.

But this would not conflict with the third and weightiest reason, namely the strong repugnance felt by the Greeks to any mutilation of the body proper and any neglect of speedy burial. The sad appeal of the shade of the unburied Patroclus (Il., XXIII. 71 ff.): “Bury me with all speed that I pass the gates of Hades. Far off the spirits banish me, nor do the phantoms of men outworn suffer me to mingle with them beyond the river,” the fervent desire of some of Homer’s Heroes that funeral rites should promptly follow their death,[264] and the agony of Antigone, all these and other instances manifest Greek sentiment. So strong and widespread was this that human dissection would have certainly aroused intense bitterness and probably caused the perpetual banishment of the perpetrator. The suggestion, resting on no evidence, that Aristotle dissected the human body secretly can neither be proved, nor disproved.

The Japanese, till recently, also refrained from dissection of the human body. It was not till the arrival in 1873 of Professor W. Donitz to fill the Chair of Anatomy in the newly established Academy of Medicine in Tokyo that dissection first came to be employed. This new era of medical science started under the happiest circumstances, for frequent hangings, an aftermath of internal strife, provided ample material for its prosecution.[265]