Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  This hour's the very crisis of your fate: Your good or ill, your infamy or fame, And all the colour of your life depends On this important _now_.--The Spanish Friar.

  If any one will look at the almanac for the year 1520, he will findmarked, opposite the 4th day of May, the following curious piece ofinformation: "High-water at London Bridge at half-past three;" and, ifhe calculate rightly, he will discover that as Wolsey set out fromwhat was then called the Cardinal's Bridge[15] at high noon, he hadthe most favourable tide in the world for carrying him to Richmond.His rowers, too, plied their oars with unceasing activity; and hissplendid barge, with its carved and gilded sides, cut rapidly throughthe water, but still not rapidly enough for his impatience.

  Siting under an awning, with a table before him, at which was placed aclerk, he sometimes read parts of the various papers that had beenpresented during the morning, and sometimes dictated to the secretary;but more frequently gave himself up to thought, suffering his mind torange in the wild chaos of political intrigue, which was to him likethe labyrinth a man makes in his own garden, in which a stranger mightlose his way, but where he himself walks for his ease and pleasure.Not that Wolsey's mind was one that soared above the pains ofpolitical life; for his were all the throbbing anxieties of precariouspower, his was all the irritation of susceptible pride and insatiablevanity; while jealous envy, avarice, and ambition, at once made theworld a desert, and tormented him with unquenchable thirst.

  No surer road to Wolsey's hatred existed than the king's favour; andsince his return to London, though but one evening had passed, yetoften had his heart rankled at hearing from those who watched for himin his absence, that a young stranger, named Sir Osborne Maurice, hadwon the king's regard and become the sharer of all his pleasures. Theinformation given him by Sir Payan Wileton had placed in his hand armsagainst this incipient rival, as he deemed him, which were sure tocrush him; and, with a sort of pride in the conquest he anticipated,he muttered to himself, as he saw the narrowing banks of the river,approaching towards Richmond, "Now, Sir Osborne Maurice! now!"

  The boat touched the shore; and while the chief yeoman of the barge,as his privilege, supported the arm of the cardinal, the two stoutpriests bearing the crosses hurried to land with the other attendants,and ranged themselves in order to proceed before him. Two of hisrunning footmen sped on to announce his approach, and the rest, withthe form and slowness of a procession, traversed the small space thatseparated them from the court, reached the gate, and entering thepalace, Wolsey, more like an equal prince than a subject, passedtowards the king's privy-chamber, amidst the profound bows andreverences of all the royal attendants, collected to do honour to hisarrival.

  Many had been the rumours in the palace during the morning respectingthe king's health, and it was generally reported that the accident ofthe day before had thrown him into a fever. This, however, wasevidently not the case; for a little before noon Sir Osborne Mauricehad received a message by one of the royal pages, to the effect thatat three o'clock the king would expect him in his privy-chamber. Thathour had nearly approached, and the young knight was preparing to obeyHenry's commands, when a note was put into his hands by MistressMargaret, the waiting-woman of Lady Constance de Grey. It was a stepwhich Sir Osborne well knew she would not have taken had it not beencalled for by some particular circumstance, and with some alarm heopened the paper and read--

  The lord cardinal is here: remember your promise. Tarry not rashly, ifyou love Constance.

  As Wolsey had ever been a declared enemy to his father, and a steadysupporter of Sir Payan Wileton, Sir Osborne felt that the prospect wascertainly in some degree clouded by his arrival; and while at thecourt, he had heard enough of the jealousy that the favouriteentertained towards all who often approached the king, to make himuneasy with regard to the future. But yet he could not imagine thatthe regard of Henry would be easily taken from him, nor the service hehe had rendered immediately forgotten; and strong in the integrity ofhis own heart, he would not believe that any serious evil could befallhim; yet the warning of Sir Cesar still rung in his ears, and made animpression which he could not overcome.

  It would be very easy to represent our hero as free from every failingand weakness, even from those of the age he lived in; easy to make himas perfect as ever man was drawn, and more perfect than ever man wasknown: but then we should be writing a romance, and not a truehistory. Sir Osborne was not perfect; and living in an age whoseweakness it was to believe implicitly in judicial astrology, he sharedin that weakness, though but in a degree; and might, indeed, haveshared still less, had not the very man who seemed to take such aninterest in his fate acquired in the court where he lived a generalreputation for almost unerring perception of approaching events. Noone that the young knight met, no one that he heard of, doubted for amoment that Sir Cesar possessed knowledge superhuman: to have doubtedof the possibility of acquiring such knowledge, would have been inthose times a piece of scepticism fully equal in criminality todoubting the sacred truths of religion; and therefore we cannot besurprised that he felt a hesitation, an uneasiness, a sort ofpresentiment of evil, as he approached the privy chamber of the king.

  At the door of the ante-chamber, however, he found stationed a page,who respectfully informed him that the king was busy on affairs ofstate with the cardinal lord chancellor, and that his grace had badehim say, that as soon as he was at leisure he would send for him tohis presence.

  Sir Osborne returned to his own apartment, and after calling forLongpole, walked up and down the room for a moment or two, while somecurious, vague feelings of doubt and apprehension passed through hismind.

  "'Tis very foolish!" said he, at length; "and yet 'tis no harm to beprepared. Longpole, saddle the horses, and have my armour ready. 'Tisno harm to be prepared;" and quitting his own chambers, he turned hissteps towards those of Lady Constance, which here, not like the formerones in the palace at Greenwich, were situated at the other extremityof the building. His path led him again past the royal lodgings; andas he went by, Sir Osborne perceived that the page gave entrance to apriest, whose figure was in some degree familiar to his eye. Where hehad seen him he did not know; but, however, he staid not to inquire,and proceeded onward to the door of Lady Constance's apartments.One of her women gave him entrance, and he soon reached hersitting-chamber, where he found her calmly engaged in embroidery. Butthere, also, was good Dr. Wilbraham, who of late had shrewdly begun tosuspect a thing that was already more than suspected by half thecourt; namely, that Sir Osborne Maurice was deeply in love withConstance de Grey, and that the lady was in no degree insensible tohis affection. Now, though the good doctor had thought in the firstinstance that Lady Constance's marriage with Lord Darby would be thevery best scheme on earth, he now began to think that the presentarrangement would be a great deal better: his reasoning proceeding inthe very inverse of Wolsey's, and leading him to conclude that as LordDarby had quite enough of his own, it would be much better for LadyConstance to repair, with her immense wealth, the broken fortunes ofthe ancient house of Fitzbernard, and at the same time secure her ownhappiness by marrying the best and the bravest of men. Notwithstandingall this, he could not at all comprehend, and never for a momentimagined, that either Constance or her lover might in the least wishhis absence; and therefore, with great satisfaction at beholding theirmutual love, he remained all the time that Sir Osborne dared to stay,and conducted him to the door with that affectionate respect which healways showed towards his former pupil. While the old clergyman stoodbidding Sir Osborne farewell, a man habited like a yeoman approached,inquiring for the lodging of Lady Constance de Grey; and on being toldthat it was before him, he put a folded note into the hands of Dr.Wilbraham, begging him to deliver it to the lady, which the chaplainpromised to do.

  And now, leaving the good clergyman to perform this promise, and SirOsborne to return to his apartment, somewhat mortified at not havinghad an opportunity of conv
ersing privately with Constance, even for amoment, we will steal quietly into the privy-chamber of the king, andseating ourselves on a little stool in the corner, observe all thatpasses between him and his minister.

  "God save your royal grace!" said Wolsey, as he entered, "and makeyour people happy in your long and prosperous reign!"

  "Welcome back again, my good lord cardinal," replied the king; "youhave been but a truant of late. We have in many things wanted yourgood counsel. But your careful letters have been received, and we haveto thank you for the renewed quiet of the West Riding."

  "Happily, your grace, all is now tranquil," replied the cardinal, "andthe kingdom within itself blessed with profound peace; but yet, mylord, even when this was accomplished, it was necessary to discoverthe cause and authors of the evil, that the fire of discord andsedition might be totally extinguished, and not, being only smothered,burst out anew where we least expected it. This has been done, myliege. The authors of all these revolts, the instigators of theirfellow-subjects' treason, have been discovered; and if your grace haveleisure for such sad business, I will even now crave leave to laybefore you the particulars of a most daring plot, which, through theactivity of good Sir Payan Wileton, I have been enabled to detect."

  "Without there!" cried the king, somewhat impatiently. "See that weare not interrupted. Tell Sir Osborne Maurice that we will send forhim when we are free. Sit, sit, my Wolsey!" he continued. "Now, by theholy faith, it grieves me to hear such things! I had hoped that,tranquillity being restored, I should have sped over to France to meetmy royal brother Francis, with nothing but joy upon my brow. However,you are thanked, my good lord, for your zeal and for your diligence.We must not let the poisonous root of treason spread, lest it grow toogreat a tree to be hewn down. Who are these traitors? Ha! Have yougood proof against them?"

  "Such proof, my liege, that, however willing I be to doubt,uncertainty, the refuge of hope, is denied me, and I must needsbelieve. When we have nourished anything with our grace, fostered itwith kindly care, taught it to spread and become great, heaped it withfavours, loaded it with bounty, we naturally hope that, having sowedall these good things, our crop will be rich in gratitude and love;but sorry I am to say, that your grace's royal generosity has fallenupon a poisoned soil, and that Edward Duke of Buckingham, who mightwell believe himself the most favoured man in the realm, now proveshimself an arrant traitor."

  "By heaven!" cried the king, "I have lately much doubted of hisloyalty. He has, as you once before made me observe, much absentedhimself from the court, keeping, as I hear, an almost royal state inthe counties; and lately, on the pretence that he is sick, that hisphysicians command him quiet, he refuses to accompany us to Guisnes. Ifear me, I fear me, 'tis his loyalty is sick. But let me hear yourreasons, my good lord cardinal. Fain would I still behold him with aneye of favour; for he is in many things a noble and a princely peer,and by nature richly endowed with all the shining qualities both ofthe body and the mind. 'Tis sad, indeed 'tis sad, that such a manshould fall away and lose his high renown! But your reasons, Wolsey!Give me the history."

  It were needless in this place to recapitulate all that we have seen,in the last chapter, advanced by Sir Payan Wileton to criminate theDuke of Buckingham. Suffice it that Wolsey related to the king thevery probable tale that had been told him by the knight: namely, thatBuckingham, aspiring to the throne, affected an undue degree ofpopularity with the commons, and by his secret agents rendered themdissatisfied with the existing government, exciting them to varioustumults and revolts, of which he cited many an instance; and that,still further, he had contrived to introduce one of the most activeagents of his treason into the court, and near to the king's ownperson.

  "Whom do you aim at?" cried the king. "Quick! give me his name. I knowof no such person. All about me are men of trust."

  "Alas! no, my liege," answered Wolsey: "the man I mean calls himselfSir Osborne Maurice."

  "Ha!" cried Henry, starting; and then, after thinking for a moment, heburst into a fit of laughter. "Nay, nay, my good Wolsey," he said,shaking his head: "nay, nay, nay; Sir Osborne saved my life no longerago than yesterday, which looks not like treason;" and he related tothe cardinal the accident that had befallen him while hawking.

  Wolsey was somewhat embarrassed; but he replied, "We often see that,taken by some sudden accident, men act not as they proposed to do; andthere is such a nobility in your grace's nature, that he must be ahardened traitor indeed who could see you in danger, and not by mereimpulse hasten to save you. Perhaps such may have been the case withthis Sir Osborne, or perhaps his master's schemes may not yet be ripefor execution: at all events, my liege, doubt not that he is a mostassured traitor."

  "I cannot believe it!" cried Henry, striking the table with his hand."I will not believe it! By heaven! the very soul of honour sparkles inhis eye! But your proofs, lord cardinal! your proofs! I will not havesuch things advanced against my faithful subjects, without full andsufficient evidence."

  The more eagerness that Henry showed in defending his young friend,the more obnoxious did Sir Osborne become to Wolsey, and he laidbefore the king, one by one, the deposition of Wilson, Sir Payan'sbailiff; several letters which Buckingham had written in favour of theyoung knight; and lastly, the duke's letter to Sir Thomas Morton,where, either by a forgery of Sir Payan Wileton's, or by some strangechance, it appeared that Sir Osborne Maurice had promised that withina year the duke's head should be the highest in the realm.

  While he read, Henry's brow knit into a heavy frown, and, biting hislip, he went back to the beginning, and again read over the papers."Cardinal," said he, at length, "bid the page seek Pace, my secretary,and ask him for the last letter from the Duke of Buckingham."

  Wolsey obeyed; and, while waiting for the return of the page, Henryremained with his eyes averted, as if in deep thought, beating thepapers with his fingers, and gnawing his lip in no very placable mood;while the cardinal wisely abstained from saying a word, leaving theirritation of the king's mind to expend itself, without calling itupon himself. As soon as the letter was brought, Henry laid it side byside with those that Wolsey had placed before him, and seemed tocompare every word, every syllable, to ascertain the identity of thehandwriting. "True, by my life!" cried he, casting down the papers."The writing is the same; and now, my lord cardinal, what have youfarther to say? Are there any farther proofs, ha?"

  "Were there none other, your grace," replied Wolsey, "than the duke'shandwriting, and the deposition of a disinterested and respectablewitness, who can have no enmity whatever against this Sir OsborneMaurice, and who probably never saw him but on the two occasions hementions, I think it would be quite sufficient to warrant your gracein taking every measure of precaution. But there is another witness,whom, indeed, I have not seen, but who can give evidence, Iunderstand, respecting the conduct of the person accused towards theRochester rioters. Knowing how much your grace's wisdom passeth thatof the best in the realm, I have dared to have this witness (a mosthonourable priest) brought hither, hoping that the exigency of thecase might lead you to examine him yourself, when, perhaps, your royaljudgment may elicit more from him than others could do."

  "You have done wisely, my good lord cardinal," replied Henry, whosefirst irritation had now subsided. "Let him be called, and bid yoursecretary take down his deposition, for 'tis not fitting that mine beso employed."

  At the command of Wolsey, one of the pages went instantly to seek thepriest, who, by the care and despatch of Sir Payan, had been sent downwith all speed, and was now waiting with the cardinal's attendants inno small surprise and agitation, not being able to conceive why he wasthus hurried from one place to another, and breathing also with somedegree of alarm in the unwonted atmosphere of a court. On beingushered into the royal presence, the worthy man fell down upon bothhis knees before Henry, and, clasping his hands, prayed for a blessingon his head with such fervour and simplicity that the monarch was bothpleased and amused.

  "Rise, rise, good man!" said the king, holding
out his hand for him tokiss: "we would speak with you on a business of import. Nay, do not bealarmed. We know your worth, and purpose to reward you. Place yourselfhere, master secretary, and take down his replies. Sit, my good lordcardinal; we beg you to be seated."

  As soon as Wolsey had taken a low seat near the king, and thesecretary, kneeling on one before the table, was prepared to write,Henry again proceeded, addressing the priest, who stood before him thepicture of a disquieted spirit.

  "Say, do you know one Sir Osborne Maurice?" demanded the king.

  "Yes, surely, please your royal grace," replied the priest. "At leastthat was the name which his attendants gave to the noble andcourageous knight that saved me from the hands of the Rochestershipwrights."

  "First," said Wolsey, "give us your name, and say how you came to fallinto the hands of these rebellious shipwrights."

  "Alas! your grace," answered the priest, "I am a poor priest ofDartford, my name John Timeworthy; and hearing that these poormisguided men at Rochester were in open rebellion against thegovernment, from lack of knowledge and spiritual teaching, I resolvedto go down amongst them and preach to them peace and submission. Iwill not stay to say how and where I found them; but getting up upon abench that stood hard by, under an apple-tree, I gathered them roundme like a flock of sheep, and began my discourse, saying, 'Woe! woe!woe! Woe unto ye, shipwrights of Rochester, that you should armyourselves against the king's grace! You are like children, that mustfain eat hot pudding, and burn their mouths withal; for ye will cry,and ye will cry, till the sword fall upon you; and then, when LordThomas comes down with his men-at-arms, ye will turn about and fly;and the spears will stick in your hinder parts, and ye shall be put toshame: for though he have but hundreds, and ye have thousands, his areall men of the bow and of the spear, and ye know no more of eitherthan a jackass does of the harp and psaltery.' And thereupon, yourgrace, they that I took for strayed sheep showed themselves to be apack of ravening wolves, for they haled me down from the bench, andbeat me unmercifully, and putting a halter round my neck, led me alongto hang me up, as they vowed, in sight of Rochester Castle; when, justas they were dragging me along, more dead than alive, across a littlegreen, the knight, Sir Osborne Maurice, came up, and, as I said,rescued me; and for a surety he is a brave and generous knight, andwell deserving your grace's favour."

  "By my faith, I have always thought so," said Henry. "What say younow, cardinal? Question him yourself, man."

  Wolsey eagerly snatched at the permission, for he plainly saw that thematter was not proceeding to his wish. "Pray, my good MasterTimeworthy," said he, "how was it that this Sir Osborne rescued you?Did he put his lance in rest, and charge the whole multitude, anddeliver you from their hands?"

  "Not so! not so!" cried the priest. "He did far more wisely, for therewould have been much blood spilt; but he sent forward one, who seemedto be his shield-bearer, who shook hands with the chief of therioters, and spoke him fair; and then the knight came forward himself,and spoke to him; and the chief of the rioters cried with a loud voiceto his people, that this was not Lord Thomas, as they had thought, buta friend and well-beloved of the good Duke of Buckingham; and it waswonderful how soon the eloquence of that young man worked upon themultitude, and made them let me go. He was, indeed, a youth of agoodly presence, and fair to look upon, and had something noble andcommanding in his aspect; and his words moved the rioters in thetwinkling of an eye, and made them wholly change their purpose."

  Henry's brow, which had cleared during the former part of the priest'snarration, now grew doubly dark and cloudy; and he muttered tohimself, "Too clear! too clear!" while Wolsey proceeded to questionthe priest more closely.

  "Indeed, your grace," replied he, in answer to the cardinal's moreminute questions, "I can tell you no more than I have told; for, as Isaid, I was more dead than alive all the time, till they gave me up tothe knight, and did not hear half that passed."

  "And what did you remark after you were with the knight?" demandedWolsey. "Was there no particular observation made on the wholetransaction?"

  "Not that I can call to mind," answered the priest. "All I rememberis, that they seemed a very merry party, and laughed and joked aboutit; which I, being frightened, thought almost wicked, God forgive me!for it was all innocency and high blood of youth."

  "Well, sir," said Wolsey, "you may go. Go with him, secretary; and seethat he be well tended, but allowed to have speech of no one."

  The priest and the secretary withdrew in silence; and no sooner werethey gone, than, abandoning his kingly dignity, Henry started from hisseat, and strode up and down the room in one of those fits of passionwhich, even then, would sometimes take possession of him. At length,stopping opposite Wolsey, who stood up the moment the king rose, hestruck the table with his clenched hand. "He shall die!" cried he; "byheaven, he shall die! Let him be attached, my Wolsey."

  "My sergeant-at-arms is with me, your grace," replied the cardinal,"and shall instantly execute your royal will. Better arrest himdirectly, lest he fear and take flight."

  "Whom mean you?" cried the king. "Ha! I say attach Edward Bohun, Dukeof Buckingham."

  "In regard to the Duke of Buckingham, my liege," replied Wolsey, lessreadily than he had before spoken, "will you take into your royalconsideration whether it may not be better to suffer him to proceed awhile with his treasonous schemes? for I question if the evidence wehave at present against him would condemn him with the peers."

  "But he is a traitor," cried Henry; "an evident traitor; and, by myfaith! shall suffer a traitor's death."

  "Most assuredly he is a black and heinous traitor," answered Wolsey."And yet your grace will think what a triumph it would be for him ifhis peers should pronounce him innocent. He has store of friends amongthem. Far better let him proceed yet a while, and, with our eyes uponhim, watch every turn of his dark plot, and seize him in the midst,when we shall have such proof that even his kindred must, for veryshame, pronounce his guilt. In the mean time, I will ensure that he beso strictly guarded that he shall have power to do no evil."

  "You are right, my Wolsey; you are right!" cried the king, seatinghimself, and laying his hand upon the papers; "let it be conducted asyou say. But see that he escape not, for his ingratitude adds anothershade to what is black itself. As to this Sir Osborne Maurice, 'tis anoble spirit perverted by that villain Buckingham. I have seen andwatched the seeds of many virtues in him."

  "It must be painful, then, for your grace to command his arrest," saidWolsey; "and yet he is so near your royal person, and his treason isso manifest, that the very love of your subjects requires that heshould suffer death."

  "And yet," replied Henry, fixing his eye upon the cardinal, andspeaking emphatically; "and yet, even now I feel the warm blood of theEnglish kings flowing lightly in my veins, which but for him wouldhave been cold and motionless: and shall I take his life that hassaved mine? No, Wolsey, no! It must not be! He has been misled, but isnot wicked."

  "Still, your grace's justice requires," said Wolsey (pardon me myboldness), "that he should undergo his trial. Then, if condemned,comes in your royal mercy to save him; saying to him, You are judgedfor having been a traitor, you are pardoned for having saved yourking."

  "But be assured, my Wolsey," replied Henry, "that if his trial were totake place now, the great traitor Buckingham will take alarm, andeither endeavour to do away all evidence of his treason, or take toflight and shelter himself from justice."

  "No need that his trial be immediate," answered the cardinal; "if yourgrace permits, he shall be committed privately to the Tower, and thereawait your return from France; by which time, depend on it, the Dukeof Buckingham will have given further tokens of his mad ambition, andboth may be tried together. Then let the greater traitor suffer andthe lesser find grace, so that your royal justice and your clemency beequally conspicuous."

  "Be it so, then," said the king; "though in truth, good cardinal, itgrieves me to lose this youth. He is, without exception, the bestlance in Christendom,
and would have done our realm much credit in ourjourney to France: I say it grieves me! Ay, heartily it grieves me!"

  "Nay, your grace," said Wolsey, "you will doubtless find a thousand asgood as he."

  "Not so! not so, lord cardinal!" cried Henry; "these are things not soeasily acquired as you churchmen think. I never saw a better knight.When his lance breaks in full course, you shall behold his hand assteady as if it held a straw: nor knee, nor thigh, nor heel shallshake; and when the toughest ash splinters upon his casque, he shallnot bend even so much as a strong oak before a summer breeze. But hisguilt is clear, so the rest is all nought."

  "Then I have your grace's commands," said Wolsey, "to commit him tothe Tower. He shall be attached directly by the sergeant-at-arms, andsent down by the turn of the tide."

  "Hold, hold!" cried the king; "not to-night, good Wolsey. Before wefly our hawk we cry the heron up, and he shall have the same grace.To-morrow, if he be still found, arrest him where you will; but forto-night he is safe, nor must his path be dogged. He shall have freeand fair start, mark me, till tomorrow at noon; then slip yourgreyhounds on him, if you please."

  "But, your grace," cried Wolsey, "if you let him----"

  "It is my will," said the king, his brow darkening. "Who shallcontradict it? Ha! See that it be obeyed exactly, my lord!"

  "It shall, your grace," said Wolsey, bending his head with a profoundinclination. "Your will is law to all your faithful servants; but onlylet your noble goodness attribute to my deep love for your royalperson the fear I have that this traitorous agent of a still greatertraitor may be tempted in despair, if he find that he is discovered,to attempt some heinous crime against your grace."

  "Fear not, man! fear not!" replied the king. "He, that when he mighthave let me die, risked his own life to save mine, will never arm hishand against me: I fear not, cardinal. So be you at ease. But returnto London; see that Buckingham be closely watched; and be sure that nopreparation be wanting for the meeting with Francis of France. Beliberal, be liberal, lord cardinal! I would not that the nobles ofFrance should say they had more gold than we. Let everything beabundant, be rich, and in its flush of newness; and as to Sir OsborneMaurice, arrest him to-morrow, if he be still here. Let him be fairlytried, and if he come out pure, well. Yet still, if he be condemned,his own life shall be given him as a reward for mine. However, tilltomorrow let it rest. It is my will!"

  Though Wolsey would have been better pleased to have had the knightsafely in the Tower, yet, even in case of his making his escape beforethe next morning, his great object was gained, that of banishing fromthe court for ever one whose rapid progress in the king's regard badefair, with time, to leave every one behind in favour. He thereforeceased to press the king upon the subject, especially as he saw, bymany indubitable signs, that Henry was in one of those imperious moodswhich would bear no opposition. A few subjects of less import stillremained to be discussed, but the monarch bore these so impatiently,that Wolsey soon ceased to importune him upon them; and resolving toreserve all further business for some more auspicious day, he rose,and taking leave with one of those refined, yet high-coloured,compliments which no man was so capable of justly tempering ashimself, he left the royal presence, and proceeded to another part ofthe palace on business whose object is intimately allied to thepresent history, as we shall see hereafter.