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Kirj.

JULIUS KROHN

Kansanvalistusseura, Helsinki, 1914.

SIS?LLYS:

Eerikki XTV ja Juhana herttua.

Juhana kuningas.

Viiteselitykset.

Vaikka valtakunta Kustaa Vaasan loppuaikoina oli hyv?ss? voimassa ja kunnossa, niin ep?luuloiseksi ja araksi tullut vanhus n?ki kuitenkin tulevaisuudessa kaikellaisia mustia aaveita. "Aika tulee", lausui h?n viimeisess? puheessaan s??dyille, "jolloin Ruotsin lapset mielell??n kaivaisivat minut mullasta, jos voisivat." Valitettavasti t?m? ennustus hyvinkin pian toteutui, ja osaksi juuri yhden Kustaan s??t?m?n s??nn?n vuoksi, josta h?n oli toivonut paljon hyv??.

Samassa n?et, kun vanhin poika Arbogassa m??r?ttiin kruununperilliseksi, kuningas vakuutti my?s s??tyjen p??t?ksell? erin?iset perinn?lliset aluskunnat muillekin pojilleen. N?iss? herttuakunnissaan piti heid?n saada hallita ja vallita melkein itsen?isesti. Se vain oli ehdoksi pantu, ett? heid?n piti aina olla Ruotsin kuninkaalle uskollisia ja vaadittaessa antaa sotavoimansa h?nelle avuksi.

T?t? laitosta s??t?ess??n taisi Kustaa Vaasalla olla kahdellainen tarkoitus. Ensiksikin h?n tahtoi my?s nuoremmille pojilleen, joita h?n rakasti enemm?n kuin vanhinta, j?tt?? korkeamman arvon ja suuremman vallan. Ja toiseksi luuli kuningas t?ll? tavoin viel? paremmin vahvistavansa sukunsa nuorta valtaa, kun jokainen h?nen pojistaan koroitettaisiin tavallisen aatelismiehen yl?puolelle. Sittenh?n muka sit? pikemmin unohtuisi, ett? Vaasat olivat ennen olleet vain muun aatelin vertaisia. Muuten niin viisas hallitsija ei huomannut, ett? t?mm?isest? vallan jaosta v?ltt?m?tt?m?sti piti synty? eripuraisuutta veljesten v?lill?.

Ruotsiin palatessaan antoi kuningas pian sen j?lkeen h?nelle viel?kin suuremman vallan. H?n asetti n?et Juhanan ylim?iseksi k?skynhaltijakseen eli p??-maaherrakseen koko Suomenmaan yli. Semmoisena piti herttualla olla oikeus s??t?? ja p??tt?? kaikista asioista, ik??nkuin olisi kuningas itse ollut l?sn?. My?s olivat kaikki Suomessa silloin majailevat sotajoukot, s.o. enin osa Ruotsin valtakunnan armeijaa, h?nen k?skyjens? alaisina.

N?in m?d?nneet olot eiv?t voineet kest?? sit? ankaraa iskua, joka heit? nyt uhkasi. Kun sodank?ynti Suomessa ei ottanut menesty?kseen, vei Ven?j?n tsaari, Iivana, lukemattomat joukkonsa sinne. Toukok. 11 p:n? v. 1558 joutui Narva ven?l?isten k?siin, v?h?? my?hemmin samaten Tarton kaupunki. Silminn?ht?v?? oli, etteiv?t Liivinmaiden saksalaiset voineet omin voimin puolustaa maata. Heit? itse??n oli siksi liian v?h?n eik? heill? my?sk??n ollut tarpeeksi rahaa, mill? palkkasotureita hankkia. Muista maista oli siis apua saatava. Mieluimmin olisivat he tietysti tahtoneet saada apua omilta kansalaisiltaan vanhasta em?maasta, Saksasta. Mutta Saksan keisarilla oli paraikaa tarpeeksi huolta l?hemmist? sodista, milloin Ranskaa, milloin turkkilaista vastaan. Muinoin niin mahtava Hansa ei nyt my?sk??n en?? kyennyt mihink??n. Ainoastaan naapureilta, Ruotsin, Tanskan tai Puolan kuninkailta oli siis pelastusta odotettavissa. Luultavasti kyll? hekin vaatisivat palkkioksi suojeluksestaan sen, ett? Liivinmaat antautuisivat heid?n valtansa alle. Mutta seh?n kuitenkin oli parempi kuin joutua Ven?j?n tsaarin alamaisiksi. Kaikki L?nsi-Euroopan kansat n?et siihen aikaan suuresti pelk?siv?t ven?l?isi?.

Kustaa ukoltapa ei tullutkaan toivottuja rahoja, vaan p?invastoin torut, viel?p? paljoa ankarammat kuin silloin, kun sanoma Juhanan vaatimasta uskollisuudenvalasta oli saapunut h?nelle. J?lkim?inen teko saattoi olla viatonta turhamaisen lapsen leikki?, mutta Juhanan uusista vehkeist? vanha kuningas pelk?si koituvan valtakunnalleen todellista vaaraa. Ven?j?h?n n?kyi tahtovan valloittaa kaikki Liivinmaat itselleen; uusi sota seuraisi siis siit?, jos yritett?isiin riist?? silt? joku osa saaliista. My?skin oli silminn?ht?v??, ettei F?rstenberg ollut aikonutkaan antaa mit??n takuuta lainasta, koska h?n ei tahtonut nimitt?? panttilinnoja.

Jo ennenkuin is?n vastaus tulikaan, oli Juhana kuitenkin malttamattomassa kiihkossaan l?hett?nyt uskotun neuvoksensa, Henrik Klaunpoika Hornin, Kankaan herran, R??veliin. T?m? oli ajanut asian sangen taitavasti vakuuttaen, ett? vanha Kustaa Vaasa oli auttava poikansa hankkeita. Sent?hden suostui kaupungin raati hein?k. 21 p. 1558 tunnustamaan Juhana herttuan suojelusherrakseen. Pitk?llinen ei kuitenkaan t?m? valta ollut. Sama Hornin kirje, joka herttualle ilmoitti mainitun p??t?ksen, antoi my?s tiedon siit?, ett? se j?lleen oli tullut kumotuksi. Tanskalainen puolue oli kiihke?sti ollut puuhaamassa ja hein?k. 23 p. saanut raadin mielen muutetuksi. Pari kertaa viel? kirjoitti Juhana r??velil?isille kehoittavia kirjeit?, mutta he vastasivat, ett? heid?n l?hettil??ns? olivat l?hteneet Tanskaan yhdess? maamestarin l?hettil?iden kanssa.

F?rstenbergin kanssa Juhana herttua niinik??n jatkoi keskusteluitaan rahalainasta. Is?n varoittavista kirjeist? h?n ei v?litt?nyt v?h??k??n, kunnes t?m? viimein l?hetti jyrk?n kiellon. "Muista se", kirjoitti vanha kuningas, "ett? Suomea ei saa eroittaa Ruotsista, johon se on yhdistetty niinkuin kaikki j?senet, joita yksi p?? hallitsee, yhteen ruumiiseen."

Kaikki toiveet alusmaan saamisesta Liivinmailla eiv?t kuitenkaan viel? haihtuneet Juhana herttuan mielest?, vaikka h?n ei en?? saanutkaan jatkaa asioimisiansa liivil?isten kanssa. N?m?t k??ntyiv?t nyt lainanpyynn?ll??n itse Kustaan puoleen, eik? t?m? n?ytt?nytk??n olevan aivan vastahakoinen ostamaan rakkaalle pojalleen muutamia linnoja, kunhan h?n vain itse sai valvoa kaupank?ynti?. Ratkaisevaa p??t?st? ei kuitenkaan kuninkaan el?ess? tehty, sill? liivil?isit koettivat aina tehd? kaikellaisia verukkeita ja tinki? ehtoja niin huokeiksi kuin mahdollista.

"Well then, tell me about Lady Clarinda. What has she done!"

"Run away with the German adventurer."

"Nonsense! I wont have it."

"Can't be helped now."

"Yes, but it must. I insist upon her marrying Sir Gabriel Fairfax."

"But, my dear May, what's done can't be undone."

"Yes; but, Charlie, I insist upon Lady Clarinda marrying Sir Gabriel."

"Oh, nonsense! The public would not have it."

"You must really change it. Why should a young girl like that run away with a red-headed foreigner? She would never have done it."

"That's the new plan, dear. You can't have your hero too wild or your heroine too ugly; for men as a rule are bad, and women are not all as lovely as you, and it flatters bad men and ugly women to find bad men and ugly women heroes and heroines."

"Well, but I don't care what the new plan is, I wont have that horrid German adventurer marry Lady Clarinda."

"Oh, very well; of course, if you insist upon her marrying Sir Gabriel, she shall; although it will compel me to tear up twelve manuscript sheets worth four shillings a sheet."

"And what is going to happen in the other one when the old Duke of Fenwick dies?"

"Oh, you'd be greatly surprised."

"What?"

"You remember the long, tall, thin man who played the violoncello in the theatre orchestra, early in the story?"

"Yes. With a red nose and warts on his fingers."

"That's he. But I must read that chapter to you the next time I am at Knightsbridge."

A DUCAL CARRIAGE.

Reginald Francis Henry Cheyne, seventh Duke of Shropshire, lived most of the year at his splendid castle Silverview, on the German Ocean. The Duke was an undersized man with a dingy dull complexion and bandy legs. He looked more like an ostler than anything else; and yet he was not only a duke, but a duke of the bluest blood, owner of Silverview Castle, three other country seats, a palatial town-house, and an income of three to four hundred thousand a year. Fate paid him every day for waking upwards of five hundred pounds, and upwards of five hundred pounds on that same day for going to bed again.

He owned one whole city, four parliamentary boroughs, and sixty-four villages. He wasn't the richest peer in England, for he had neither a seventy-foot seam of coal nor a few hundred acres in the West End of London. But against the unpleasant feeling of not being the richest peer in England he had two things to cheer him. In the first place, his city and four parliamentary boroughs were docile, and elected men whom he suggested; and in the second place, beyond his son and heir, the Marquis of Southwold, he had no family, and therefore he had no one to provide for. Consequently he could live up to his income. This he did, but he went no farther; and in all England there was no property more free from encumbrance. He was sixty-three years of age, a widower, and extremely fond of yachting. Although he had a house or castle in each of the three kingdoms and in Wales, he rarely left Silverview, except in his yacht. He was passionately fond of the sea, and had spent as much of his time afloat as ashore. Another thing that wedded him to the sea was the delicacy of his son, who, although now eight-and-thirty years of age, had been from almost his birth obliged to live much at sea, owing to general weakness, and an affection of the eyes, which the doctors said would inevitably end in blindness if he lived permanently on shore.

The reason why the Duke preferred Silverview Castle to any of his other houses or castles was because it stood on a height at the top of a narrow bay. For miles on each side of this bay the land belonged to the Duke, and in his castle above his bay he was as far out of the world as if he had been in the Zaraha, and yet so close to his yacht riding at anchor that he could see from his bedroom-window when he got up if the brasses had been polished and the decks holystoned that morning.

The Duke and his son rode as every Englishman must, but he rode as little as any Englishman may. But neither the sea nor riding had bowed the Duke's legs. From generation to generation the house of Cheyne had been noted, with two exceptions, for its bowed legs. Of course, in the family portraits you saw no sign of this, for the family had taken care never to have any more extended counterfeit presentment than a kit-cat. Whenever, even while he was on land, the Duke encountered a gale he invariably threw out his sea-legs, and straddled, as though the road or field was, while rolling horribly, mounting a mighty swell.

There was nothing particularly interesting about the Duke of Shropshire. He was a commonplace-looking little man with very commonplace ideas. He was an excellent man of business, and every day, when he was at the Castle, gave two hours to his business folk. He was a model landlord. The tenants said it would be impossible to find better, but he was not popular among them. He was too dark and reserved and taciturn. Every sailor wants to have a garden and grow vegetables. Every farmer does not want to go a long sea-voyage. The land is no mystery to the sailor, but the sea is a mystery to the farmer. To people who have no dealings with the sea, those who frequent its plains seem aliens in race. This may, in some way, account for the fact that the Duke made no personal progress in the affections of his tenantry.

The father was not popular, the son was partly pitied and partly despised. His delicacy, and the fact that he could not live on land, separated him still more effectually from the people than his father. The people looked forward with no pleasure to the fact that this man was heir, and would be duke some day. Another thing, too, that the tenants did not like was the way father and son kept together. They knew the marquis was not strong, but still he might have a little will of his own. Why hadn't he a yacht of his own? not go about always with his father, as though he was only twelve years of age instead of thirty-eight. Surely one of the richest peers in the world could afford an allowance to his only son which would enable that son to keep a yacht! Men like men for masters. They do not care to work under invalids and recluses.

Personally the Duke spent little or nothing of his large income. On Sundays his head-gardener was much better dressed than his master. The only luxury the Duke demanded was solitude, and for this solitude he was willing to give up nine-tenths of his fortune. He kept servants at all his seats, and any of his friends of thirty-five years ago was welcome to a loan of one, servants, shooting, fishing included. But no friend was to drive up to Silverview Castle and claim hospitality.

There was no general agreement as to the cause of the Duke's avoidance of society. Some said it was owing to grief at the death of his wife; others declared he had done some dire wrong in his young days; and others that it was all the result of whim.

Although he interfered in politics he did not take an active part in them. He merely intimated to his agent which candidates had won his favour. For years he had not made an appearance in the House of Lords. On the rare occasions when he went there it was to record a silent vote on some measure of great importance.

It so happened one of those big questions arose in June, and that his grace had made up his mind to visit London for a few days, and record his vote against some Radical measure which had been sent up from the Lower Chamber. It was of course an event in the great world when the rich Duke of Shropshire came up to London even for an hour.

It was known he did not intend marrying again. But then who knows anything for certain? And then there was the Marquis. Of course he would marry some day. It wasn't probable the present owner of the dukedom would like to think there was a chance of that magnificent collection of properties being broken up amongst an unknown number of remote cousins, and the fine old title dying out; for everyone knew there was no heir to the dukedom, however, looking back beyond the seven dukes, the property might be found settled. One thing was clear, namely, that all the property which had come into the family since the first duke must go goodness knew whither, for there was absolutely no heir. It was also perfectly clear that the title would become extinct; for, with but one exception, from the first to the sixth duke, the title and entailed estates had descended through a single file of sons, and, though many children may have been born, when each duke came into possession he was the last member of the ducal house. The one exception was that of the present Duke, for when he inherited the title he had a younger brother, who, however, died unmarried.

Such was the talk of general society about the Duke of Shropshire. Of course there were people who knew everything that would happen if the line of dukes failed; but then that was, after all, a very remote contingency, and the great question was: Would the Duke marry again? and whom would the Marquis marry?

Shropshire House is in Piccadilly. Cheyne had seen in one of the morning papers that the Duke was in town, and as he and Marion Durrant walked through Piccadilly that bright June noon, they met a bandy-legged common-looking man emerging from a crowd in the roadway.

"What is the matter?" asked Marion of Cheyne.

Cheyne raised himself on his toes and answered: "There's been a smash of some kind. I can see now. The pole of a 'bus has gone through the door of a brougham. That sort of thing comes of shaving corners too fine. I'll bet any money it is the brougham that was in fault."

Marion Durrant, the orphan of Captain Durrant of the Fusiliers, was three-and-twenty years of age, and lived with an invalid maiden aunt in a very quiet street in Knightsbridge. There Miss Traynor, Marion Durrant's aunt, had a neat little house, possessing all reasonable comforts, and even modest luxuries. She and her dead sister had each settled upon her by their father two hundred a year, and as May had inherited her mother's two hundred a year, their joint income was four hundred pounds. Although Miss Traynor was an invalid she was an excellent housekeeper, and, with the aid of a bright handy little maid-of-all-work, the small house in Knightsbridge was as well managed, as well kept, and as comfortable as any other in London.

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