Receiving the congratulations of the veteran commander, and bidding each other good-bye, Shibusawa withdrew and began the march back along the Tokaido toward the gates of Kyoto. His small army had been sadly reduced, but they came proudly, as the heroes of a victorious struggle; and when they had arrived they met with a scene which they had not expected. The decorations and festivities intended for the shogun had been put to quite another use; the crown of welcome had been turned into an arch of triumph, and the victorious general passed under, the hero of the hour. Nor was that all; for upon reaching the gates he there met face to face the mikado himself. Such a thing had never been known, and for the first time in the history of the nation their divine sovereign, on the 7th day of February, had appeared in public. Shibusawa, mindful of time-honoured custom, prostrated himself at the mikado's feet, and there received a blessing and his own promotion. Mutsuhito spoke in a clear and kindly voice, saying: "I declare myself, Mutsuhito, the sole ruler of this land; and I appoint you, Shibusawa, the commander-in-chief of all the forces in the nation's service; and I promise the constitution at the fall of Tokyo." Thereupon he handed to Shibusawa a roll bearing the inscription of a letter, embodying the foregoing and the written signature of the mikado, the first to appear in public. After this there were presented to the newly made commander-in-chief the emblems of his office, consisting of a brocaded banner and the sword of justice. These he accepted at the hands of Kido, whereupon the mikado retired and Shibusawa proceeded to the discharge of his duties. The public appearance of the mikado and the announcement of his patriotic intentions, though sudden and unexpected, had not been made without careful deliberation and a full consciousness of its ultimate effect. Mutsuhito, fully advised of the situation, had pledged his whole heart, hand, and life for the good of his country. From the time of his accession to the throne he had been a keen observer, and now that the greatest clash of arms since the destruction of the Chinese armada, six hundred years before, had resulted in a complete victory for their side, he understood the patriotic outburst of approval that centred around Shibusawa, the supporter of his cause; and he proposed to strike, like the man that he was, where he knew the blow would tell most for what he, too, believed to be right. Shibusawa had not anticipated such applause nor had he expected so great a recognition; he had gone forth at the first opportunity to do only what he believed to be an honour and a privilege. He had acted as his heart told him to act, and the results seemed but the incidents of fortune. He accepted the responsibility with dignity and no further ambition than to serve his country and honour the name his fathers gave.