“The western foreigners of to-day are different from those of a former day. They are much more advanced and powerful; the conflict is an unequal one, and Japan will be shattered like roofing tile. The cry that reaches you comes from those who do not understand; it is a misfortune longer to attempt to close our doors. Instead let us devote ourselves to house-building, husbandry, forestry, jurisprudence, and science, and the benefits derived will more than offset the loss sustained at the hands of the foreigners. There is a better way to meet their aggression than by resort to force, and if your majesty will so permit we pledge ourselves to serve you, the divine and rightful ruler of this land.”

The letter had its effect, and thenceforth there were but two parties, both of which tolerated the foreigner, and with one of which every loyal citizen must sooner or later cast his fortunes. In the following autumn Iyemochi died, and Hitotsubashi proclaimed his successor, began to discharge the offices of shogun, as the vacillating tool of the strongest triumvirate that had yet undertaken to rehabilitate the waning powers of a rapidly fading court.

Hitotsubashi proved an easy dupe and ready listener by turns to Daikomitsu, Okotsuba, and Tetsutaisho, the three ministers who were destined to guide the fortunes of the tottering shogunate till the last faint quiver told of its final collapse, while Mutsuhito, succeeding the deceased mikado, Komie, in the following spring, began that series of brilliant moves which welded together the hearts of his people and secured to him his rightful position as supreme and undivided ruler of his country. From this time forth the mikadate were united upon one thing—the downfall of the shogunate. They had had enough of dual government, with its intrigues and dangers—if glorious—and the liberal Mutsuhito pledged himself to the constitution, by which Shibusawa had proposed the people’s rights, and for which he gave his undivided support.

The time had come to strike, and when Shibusawa proposed in open council that Kido be instructed to address a letter to Hitotsubashi as shogun, Saigo rose and asked its purport. Shibusawa answered:

“Advise the shogun to abdicate in favour of the mikado.”

A stillness settled over the chamber, then a roar of applause burst forth such as had never before been heard. The giant Saigo thundered his approval, white-haired men leaped in the air, and everybody shouted:

“Long live the mikado!”

The letter, demanding an immediate answer, forthwith reached the hands of Daikomitsu, who, startled with the warning, repaired to the temple of Shiba, and there prayed to Omikami for light, that he might not “stumble in the darkness.” Acting upon the advice of this good goddess he laid the matter before his associates in the triumvirate, resulting in a division of opinion.

Tetsutaisho was a samurai, and none such ever dreamed of defeat. A thousand years of feudalism had well taught them their profession. Continued success made them believe themselves invincible. The shogun was their idol and war their deliverance. Thus the commander-in-chief urged the shogun’s defence, and would not agree to any other means than force. He was overruled and a more diplomatic course proposed, yet he sulked and withheld approval. Tetsutaisho had assented to Hitotsubashi’s assumption of the functions of shogun because he believed it necessary; and he was perfectly willing that he should be held and used as a dupe, but this letter from the south appeared to be a direct attack upon the shogunate, and no matter who was shogun he believed it high time to strike rather than quibble. Daikomitsu answered:

“A resignation from Hitotsubashi, an incumbent, can in no manner affect the shogunate, an established institution. If the people want to continue the one they will restore the other, besides such an act would forever put the question out of our way. It would also confuse and baffle the opposition, thus giving us time to prepare an effective defence.”