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] FOOTNOTES: [242] Byron’s view of fishing is not favourable—as his lines in _Don Juan_, Canto XIII. prove: “Angling, too, that solitary vice, Whatever Isaak Walton says or sings.” He bore, possibly from failure to catch his boyish Aberdeenshire trout, a grudge against Father Izaak, “The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb in his gullet Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.” Byron closes his note with “But Anglers! No Angler can be a good man.” Walton received many a shrewd blow, especially from his contemporary Richard Franck, whose _Northern Memories_, with its appreciation of the Fly and its depreciation of Izaak’s ground-bait, found less favour than the _Compleat Angler_. His worsting of Walton at Stafford runs, “he stop’d his argument and leaves Gesner to defend it: so huff’d a way.” Again, “he stuffs his book with morals from Dubravius—not giving us one precedent of his own experiments, except otherwise when he prefers the trencher to the troling-rod! There are drones that rob the hive, yet flatter the bees that bring them honey.” [243] _Deipn._, VIII. 47. Rabelais would seemingly make Aristotle his own Proteus, for Pantagruel (IV. 31) discovers him with his lantern at the bottom of the sea spying about, examining, and writing. This lantern has long been coupled with that of the Sea-urchin, but as a few pages later on we find ourselves in the _Pays des Lanternois_, it is probably a reference to a philosopher’s lamp, like that of Diogenes.