Christian, so readily found a firm footing among us. For decades before
we heard of the Geneva Convention, Bakin, our greatest novelist, had
familiarized us with the medical treatment of a fallen foe. In the
principality of Satsuma, noted for its martial spirit and education, the
custom prevailed for young men to practice music; not the blast of
trumpets or the beat of drums,--"those clamorous harbingers of blood and
death"--stirring us to imitate the actions of a tiger, but sad and
tender melodies on the _biwa_,[9] soothing our fiery spirits, drawing
our thoughts away from scent of blood and scenes of carnage. Polybius
tells us of the Constitution of Arcadia, which required all youths
under thirty to practice music, in order that this gentle art might
alleviate the rigors of that inclement region. It is to its influence
that he attributes the absence of cruelty in that part of the Arcadian
mountains.

[Footnote 9: A musical instrument, resembling the guitar.]

Nor was Satsuma the only place in Japan where gentleness was inculcated
among the warrior class. A Prince of Shirakawa jots down his random
thoughts, and among them is the following: "Though they come stealing to
your bedside in the silent watches of the night, drive not away, but
rather cherish these--the fragrance of flowers, the sound of distant
bells, the insect humming of a frosty night." And again, "Though they
may wound your feelings, these three you have only to forgive, the
breeze that scatters your flowers, the cloud that hides your moon, and
the man who tries to pick quarrels with you."

It was ostensibly to express, but actually to cultivate, these gentler
emotions that the writing of verses was encouraged. Our poetry has
therefore a strong undercurrent of pathos and tenderness. A well-known