e may call the mercy of bushi effectual,
since it implied the power of acting for the good or detriment of the
recipient.

Priding themselves as they did in their brute strength and privileges to
turn it into account, the samurai gave full consent to what Mencius
taught concerning the power of Love. "Benevolence," he says, "brings
under its sway whatever hinders its power, just as water subdues fire:
they only doubt the power of water to quench flames who try to
extinguish with a cupful a whole burning wagon-load of fagots." He also
says that "the feeling of distress is the root of benevolence, therefore
a benevolent man is ever mindful of those who are suffering and in
distress." Thus did Mencius long anticipate Adam Smith who founds his
ethical philosophy on Sympathy.

It is indeed striking how closely the code of knightly honor of one
country coincides with that of others; in other words, how the much
abused oriental ideas of morals find their counterparts in the noblest
maxims of European literature. If the well-known lines,

Hae tibi erunt artes--pacisque imponere morem,
Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos,

were shown a Japanese gentleman, he might readily accuse the Mantuan
bard of plagiarizing from the literature of his own country. Benevolence
to the weak, the downtrodden or the vanquished, was ever extolled as
peculiarly becoming to a samurai. Lovers of Japanese art must be
familiar with the representation of a priest riding backwards on a cow.
The rider was once a warrior who in his day made his name a by-word of
terror. In that terrible battle of Sumano-ura, (1184 A.D.), which was
one of the most decisive in our history, he overtook an enemy and in
single combat had him in the clutch of his gigantic arms. Now the
etiquette of war required that on such occasions no blood should be
spilt, unless the weaker party proved to be a man of rank or ability
equal to that of the stronger. The grim combatant would have the name of
the man under him; but he refusing to make it known, his helmet was
ruthlessly torn off, when the sight of a juvenile face, fair and
beardless, made the astonished knight relax his hold. Helping the youth
to his feet, in paternal tones he bade the stripling go: "Off, young
prince, to thy mother's side! The sword of Kumagaye shall never be
tarnished by a drop of thy blood. Haste and flee o'er yon pass before
thy enemies come in sight!" The young warrior refused to go and begged