The extraordinary degree to which Japanese are commonly accustomed in their differences of opinion to refrain from blows makes many of their quarrels harmless.  The threat to send for the policeman or the actual appearance of the policeman has an almost magical effect in calming a disturbance.  The Japanese policeman believes very much in reproving or reprimanding evil doers and in reasoning with folk whose “carelessness” has attracted attention.  Sometimes for greater impressiveness the admonitions or exhortations are delivered at the police station[45].  In more than one village I heard a tribute paid to the good influence exerted on a community by a devoted policeman.

The chief of an agricultural experiment station also seems to obtain a large measure of respect, to some extent, no doubt, because he occupies a public office.  The regard felt for Mr. Yamasaki goes deeper.  A few years ago he was sent on a mission abroad and in his absence his local admirers cast about for a way of showing their appreciation of his work.  They began by raising what was described to me as “naturally not a large but an honourable sum.”  With this money they decided to add three rooms to his dwelling.  They had noted how visitors were always coming to his house in order to profit by his experience and advice.  Mr. Yamasaki uses the rooms primarily as “an hotel for people of good intentions—­those who work for better conditions.”  I was proud to stay at this “hotel” and to receive as a parting gift an old seppuku blade.

Which reminds me that one night at a house in the country I found myself sitting under photographs of the late General and Countess Nogi and of the gaunt bloodstained room of the depressing “foreign style” house in which they committed suicide on the day of the funeral of the Emperor Meiji[46].  One of my fellow-guests was a professor at the Imperial University; the other was a teacher of lofty and unselfish spirit.  They were both samurai.  I mentioned that a man of worth and distinction has said to me that, while he recognised the nobility of Nogi’s action, he could but not think it unjustifiable.  I was at once told that Japanese who do not approve of Nogi’s action “must be over-influenced by Western thought.”  “Those who are quintessentially Japanese,” it was explained, “think that Nogi did right.  Bodily death is nothing, for Nogi still lives among us as a spirit.  He labours with a stronger influence.  Many hearts were purified by his sacrifice.  One of Nogi’s reasons for suicide was no doubt that he might be able to follow his beloved Emperor, but his intention was also to warn many vicious or unpatriotic people.  Some politicians and rich people say they are patriotic, but they are animated by selfish motives and desires.  Nogi’s suicide was due to his loving his fellow-countrymen sincerely.  Surely he was acting after the manner of Christ.  Nogi crucified himself for the people in order to atone in a measure for their sins and to lead them to a better way of life.”