CHAPTER XL
SIEGE OF TOKYO

A slow march of nearly three weeks brought Shibusawa and his great army to the outskirts of the shogun’s capital city, Tokyo; little resistance having been offered on the way, and no considerable inconvenience suffered.

The assaulting general had taken his time, partly because of the difficulty experienced in moving artillery without a sufficient supply of horses or cattle, but chiefly in view of expected hostilities and the uncertainty of the country through which they passed. However, he was agreeably disappointed in finding his passage practically uninterrupted, and the inhabitants not extremely unfriendly. The news had gone far in advance of his coming, and the very audacity of his movements had won for him admiration if not respect.

Upon arriving at his destination, Shibusawa halted well outside the city, seized upon the most advantageous points and fortified them with artillery and troops, preparatory to the great siege which he had planned.

In his investment of the place he took particular pains to make his stand at some considerable distance from the densely built sections. He had realised the danger of setting fire to the thatched roofs and wooden structures, should any heavy engagement take place near them, and however anxious he may have been to crush the shogunate he did not wish to do so at the cost of a conflagration or the needless destruction of life or property. He went at the business of conquering the foe with a just and full appreciation of the rights and conveniences of the people; and, upon extending his lines around the city, purposely left a weak place to the northward, giving the enemy a chance to break through, if he so desired, thus avoiding the necessity of fighting the final engagement at or near the great capital, with its large population, its splendid buildings, and vast stores of wealth.

In this Shibusawa reasoned well and, under existing conditions, lost nothing in position or opportunity. While the loophole came to nothing so far as the shogun himself was concerned, it did afterwards accomplish good results by letting at least a portion of the samurai out, thus avoiding a last stand or any large engagement within the city. Nor would it have been any the less operative in the case of Hitotsubashi, had he not weakened at the first appearance of danger and run like the weakling he had shown himself to be. The scared shogun had long since withdrawn from anything like a hostile attitude, hiding himself within the secret confines of a bulwark builded by other hands than his.

In fact, upon the receipt of Shibusawa’s letter, despatched from Owara, advising him of the mikado’s edict demanding his resignation, Hitotsubashi fainted away and was revived only by means of much sorcery and many assurances. Tetsutaisho had by this time fully recovered—having suffered more from the concussion than from the wound—and become anxious to retrieve his fallen prowess. Before his disablement at Fushima he had presaged the inevitable outcome of the battle, had he been spared to lead on to victory his overwhelming numbers, and now keenly felt the disgrace rightly attributed to his idolised shogun, who had so promptly and properly taken up the ill-fated command. Therefore, urging Hitotsubashi to stand firm, he advised that they all fall together like men, if fall they must.

“True, your most august highness, I advised war from the beginning,” said he. “I do no less now. And when the last has deserted, Tetsutaisho will stand face to face with the enemy. You have my judgment; I have the army. Do as you will, but I shall defend these walls, which enclose the last that is dear to a samurai. Loyalty is my due, and honour my right. May the gods deal lightly with you; with me there is a more serious issue: the shogunate must live!”