every person to whose suggestions he attributed this change in her sentiments and behaviour.

There was then in the court one David Rizzio, the son of a musician at Turin, himself a musician; who, finding it difficult to subsist by his art in his own country, had followed the ambassador from that court into Scotland. As he understood music to perfection, and. sang a good bass, he was introduced into the queen's concert, who was so pleased with him, that she desired the ambassador, upon his departure, to leave Rizzio. behind. The excellence of his voice soon procured him greater familiarities; and, although he was by no means handsome, but rather ugly, the queen seemed to place peculiar confidence in him, and ever kept him next her person. Her secretary for French dispatches having some time after fallen under her displeasure, she promoted Rizzio to that office, who, being shrewd, sensible, and aspiring beyond his rank, soon after began to entertain hopes of being promoted to the important office of chancellor of the kingdom. He was consulted on all occasions; no favours could be obtained but by his intercession; and all suitors were first obliged to gain Rizzio to their interests, by presents, or by flattery. It was easy to persuade a man of Darnley's jealous uxorious temper, that Rizzio was the person who had estranged the queen's affections from him; and a surmise once conceived became to him a certainty. He soon, therefore, consulted with some lords of his party, stung as he was with envy, rage, and resentment; and they not only fanned the conflagration in his mind, but offered their assistance to dispatch Rizzio. George Douglas, A. D. natural brother to the countess of Lenox, the 1566. lords Ruthven and Lindsay, settled the circumstances of this poor creature's assassination among them,

2

and determined that, as a punishment for the queen's: indiscretions, the murder should be committed in here presence. Máry was at this time in the sixth month of her pregnancy, and was then supping in private, att table with the countess of Argyle, her natural sister, some other servants, and her favourite Rizzio. Lord Darnley led the way into the apartment by a private staircase, and stood for some time leaning at the back of Mary's chair. His fierce looks and unexpected intrusion greatly alarmed the queen, who nevertheless kept silence, not daring to call out. A little after, lord Ruthven, George Douglas, and the other conspirators, rushed in, all armed, and showing in their looks the: brutality of their intentions. The queen could no longer restrain her terrors, but demanded the reason of this bold intrusion. Ruthven made her no answer; but or dered her favourite to quit a place of which he was unworthy. Rizzio instantly saw that he was the object of their vengeance; and, trembling with apprehension, took hold of the queen's robes to put himself under her protection, while, on her part, she strove to interpose between him and the assassins. Douglas, in the mean time, had reached the unfortunate Rizzio; and, snatch-. ing a dagger from the king's side, while the queen filled the room with her cries, plunged it into the bosom of Rizzio, who, screaming with fear and agony, was torn from Mary by the other conspirators, and dragged into the ante-chamber, where he was dispatched with fiftysix wounds. The unhappy princess continued her lamentations; but, being informed of his fate, at once dried her tears, and 'said she would weep no more, for she would now think of revenge. The insult indeed upon her person and honour, and the danger to which her life was exposed on account of her pregnancy, were

injuries so atrocious and so complicated, that they scarcely left room for pardon.

This act of violence was only to be punished by temporising; she pretended to forgive so great a crime; and exerted the force of her natural allurements so powerfully, that her husband submitted implicitly to her will. He soon gave up his accomplices to her resentment, and retired with her to Dunbar; while she, having collected an army, which the conspirators had no power to resist, advanced to Edinburgh, and obliged them to fly into England, where they lived in great poverty and distress. They made application, however, to the earl of Bothwell, a new favourite of Mary's, and that nobleman, desirous of strengthening his party by the accession of their interest, was able to pacify her resentment; and he soon after procured them liberty to return home.

The vengeance of the queen was implacable to her husband alone; his person was before disagreeable to her; and, having persuaded him to give up his accomplices, she treated him with merited disdain and indignation. But it would have been well for her character and happiness had she rested only in despising :—she secretly resolved on a severer revenge. The earl of Bothwell, who was now become her favourite, was of a considerable family in Scotland; and though not distinguished by any talents, civil or military, yet he made some noise in the dissensions of the state, and was an opposer of the Reformation. He was a man of profligate manners, had involved his fortune in great debts, and had reduced himself to beggary by his profusion. This nobleman, notwithstanding, had ingratiated himself so far with the queen, that all her measures were entirely directed by his advice and authority. Reports were even spread of more particular intimacies; and

these gave such uneasiness to Darnley, that he left the court, and retired to Glasgow, to be no longer spectator of her supposed excesses. But this was not what the queen aimed at; she was determined upon more ample punishment. Shortly after, all those who wished well to her character, or repose to their country, were extremely pleased, and somewhat surprised, to A. D. hear that her tenderness for her husband was 1567. revived, and that she had taken a journey to visit him during his sickness. Darnley was so far allured by her behaviour on this occasion, that he resolved to part with her no more; he put himself under her protection, and soon after attended her to Edinburgh, which, it was thought, would be a place more favourable to his declining health. She lived in Holyrood-house; but, as the situation of that place was low, and the concourse of persons about the court necessarily attended with noise, which might disturb him in his present infirm state, she fitted up an apartment for him in a solitary house at some distance, called the Kirk of Field. Mary there gave him marks of kindness and attachment; she conversed cordially with him, and she lay some nights in a room under him. It was on the ninth of February that she told him she would pass the night in the palace, because the marriage of one of her servants was to be there celebrated in her presence. But dreadful consequences ensued. About two o'clock in the morning the whole city was much alarmed at hearing a great noise; the house in which Darnley lay was blown up with gun-powder. His dead body was found at some distance in a neighbouring field, but without any marks of violence or contusion. No doubt could be entertained that Darnley was murdered; and the general suspicion fell upon Bothwell as the perpetrator.

All orders of the state, and the whole body of the

people, began to demand justice on the supposed mur~derer; the queen herself was not entirely exempt from the general suspicion; and papers were privately stuck cup every where, accusing her of being an accomplice. Mary, more solicitous to punish others than defend hereself, offered rewards for the discovery of those who had spread such reports; but no rewards were offered for the discovery of the murderers. One indiscretion led to another; Bothwell, though accused of being stained with her husband's blood, though universally odious to the people, had the confidence, while Mary was on her way to Stirling on a visit to her son, to seize her at the head of a body of eight hundred horse, and to carry her to Dunbar, where he forced her to yield to his purposes. It was then thought by the people that the measure of his crimes was complete; and that he who was supposed to have murdered the queen's husband, and to have offered violence to her person, could expect no mercy; but they were astonished upon finding, instead of disgrace, that Bothwell was taken into more than former favour; and, to crown all, that he was married to the queen, having divorced his own wife to procure this union.

3

.

This was a fatal alliance to Mary; and the people were now wound up by the complication of her follies; to pay very little deference to her authority. The protestant teachers, who had great power, had long borne great animosity towards her; the opinion of her guilt was by their means more widely diffused, and made the deeper impression. The principal nobility met at Stirling; and an association was soon formed for protecting the young prince, and punishing the king's murderers. Lord Hume was the first in arms; and, with a body of eight hundred horse, he suddenly surrounded the queen and Bothwell in the castle of Borthwick. They found

A