the queen's prime confident. Without his participation no business was concluded, and no favour bestowed. Together with this ascendant over her councils, Bothwell, if we may believe the cotemporary historians, acquired no less sway over her heart. But at what precise time this ambitious lord first allowed the sentiments of a lover to occupy the place of that duty and respect which a subject owes his sovereign; or when Mary, instead of gratitude for his faithful services, felt a passion of another nature rising in her bosom, it is no easy matter to determine. Such delicate transitions of passion can be discerned only by those who are admitted near the persons of the parties, and who can view the secret workings of the heart with calm and acute observation. Neither Knox nor Buchanan enjoyed these advantages. Their humble station allowed them only a distant access to the queen and her favourite. And the ardour of their zeal, and the violence of their prejudices, render their opinions rash, precipitate, and inaccurate. It is by the effects of this reciprocal passion, rather than by their accounts of it, that subsequent historians can judge of its reality.

Adventurous as Bothwell's project to gain the queen may appear, it was formed and carried on under very favourable circumstances. Mary was young, gay, and affable. She possessed great sensibility of temper, and was capable of the utmost tenderness of affection. She had placed her love on a very unworthy object, who requited it with ingratitude, and treated her with neglect, with insolence, and with brutality. All these she felt, and resented. In this situation, the attention and complaisance of a man who had vindicated her authority, and protected her person; who entered into all her views, who soothed all her passions, who watched and improved every opportunity of

insinuating his design, and recommending his passion, could hardly fail of making an impression on a heart of such a frame as Mary's.

A few days after the baptism of the prince, · Morton and all the other conspirators against Rizio obtained their pardon, and leave to return into Scotland. Mary, who had hitherto continued inexorable to every entreaty in their behalf, yielded at last to the solicitations of Bothwell. He could hope for no success in those bold designs on which his ambition resolved to venture, without drawing aid from every quarter. By procuring a favour for Morton and his associates, of which they had good reason to despair, he expected to secure a band of faithful and determined adherents.

Upon the mysterious murder of Lord Darnly, every one's imagination was at work to guess who had contrived and executed this execrable deed. The suspicion fell, with almost a general consent, on Bothwell; and some reflections were thrown out, as if the queen herself were no stranger to the crime. Of Bothwell's guilt there remains the fullest evidence that the nature of the action will admit. The queen's known sentiments with regard to her husband, gave a great appearance of probability to the imputation with which she was loaded.

Two days after the murder, a proclamation was issued by the queen, offering a considerable reward to any person who should discover those who had been guilty of such a horrid and detestable crime. And though Bothwell was now one of the greatest subjects in the kingdom, formidable on account of his own power, and protected by the queen's favour, it was impossible to suppress the sentiments and indignation of the people. Papers were affixed to the most public places of the city, accusing him of the murder, and naming his accomplices; pictures appeared to the same purpose, and voices.

were heard, in the middle of the night, charging him with that barbarous action. But the authors of these rumours did not confine their accusations to Bothwell alone; they insinuated that the queen herself was accessory to the crime. This bold accusation, which so directly attacked Mary's reputation, drew the attention of her council; and by engaging them in an inquiry after the authors of these libels, diverted them from searching after the murderers of the king. It could scarcely be expected that Mary herself would be extremely solicitous to discover those who had rid her of an husband whom she had so violently hated. It was Bothwell's interest, who had the supreme direction of this, as well as of all other affairs, to stifle and suppress whatever evidence should be offered, and to cover, if possible, the whole transaction under the veil of darkness and of silence. Some inquiry, however, was made, and some persons called before the council; but the examination was conducted with the most indecent remissness, and in such a manner as to let in no light upon that scene of guilt.

Lennox, at the same time, incited Mary to vengeance with incessant importunity. This nobleman had shared in his son's disgrace, and being treated by Mary with neglect, usually resided at a distance from court. Roused, however, by an event no less shocking to the heart of a father, than fatal to all his schemes of ambition, he ventured to write to the queen, and to offer his advice with respect to the most effectual method for discovering and convicting those who had so cruelly deprived him of a son, and her of a husband. He urged her to prosecute those who were guilty with vigour, and to bring them to a speedy trial; he declared his own suspicion of Bothwell, and of those who were named as his accomplices; he required that out of

regard to decency, and in order to encourage evidence to appear against them, the persons accused of such an atrocious crime should be committed to custody, or at least from her court and presence.

Mary was then at Seaton, whither she had retired after the burial of the king, whose body was deposited among the monarchs of Scotland, in a private, but decent manner. The former part of the earl's demand could not, on any pretence, be eluded; and it was resolved to bring Bothwell immediately to trial. But, instead of confining him to any prison, Mary admitted him into all her councils, and allowed a person, universally reputed the murderer of her husband, to enjoy all the security, the dignity, and the power of a favourite. The offices which Bothwell already possessed gave him the command of all the south of Scotland. The castle of Edinburgh, however, was a place of too much consequence not to wish it in his own power. The queen, in order to prevail on the earl of Mar to surrender it, consented to put the person of the young prince in his hands, and immediately bestowed the government of that important fortress upon Bothwell. So many steps in her conduct, inconsistent with all the rules of prudence and of decency, must be imputed to an excess either of folly or of love. Mary's known character fully vindicates her from the former; of the latter, many and striking proofs soon appeared.

No direct evidence had yet appeared against Bothwell; but as time might bring to light the circumstances of a crime, in which so many accomplices were concerned, it was of great importance to hasten on the trial, while nothing more than general suspicions and uncertain surmises could be produced by his accusers. For this reason, in a meeting of privy council, held on the 28th of

March, the 12th of April was appointed for the day of trial. And though the law allowed, and the manner in which criminal causes were carried on in that age, required a much longer interval, it appears, from several circumstances, that this short space was considerably contracted, and that Lennox had only eleven days warning to prepare for accusing a person so far superior to himself, both in power and in favour.

On the day appointed, Bothwell appeared, but with such a formidable retinue, that it would have been dangerous to condemn, and impossible to punish him. Besides a numerous body of his friends and vassals assembled, according to custom, from different parts of the kingdom, he was attended by a band of hired soldiers, who marched with flying colours along the streets of Edinburgh. A court of justice was held with the accustomed formalities. An indictment was presented against Bothwell, and Lennox was called upon to make good his accusation. In his name appeared Robert Cunningham, one of his dependants. He excused his master's absence, on account of the shortness of the time, which prevented his assembling his friends and vassals, without whose assistance he could not with safety venture to set himself in opposition to such a powerful antagonist. For this reason, he desired the court to stop proceeding, and protested, that any sentence which should be passed at that time ought to be deemed illegal and void. Bothwell, on the other hand, insisted that the court should instantly proceed to trial. One of Lennox's own letters, in which he craved of the queen to prosecute the murderers without delay, was produced. Cunningham's objections were overruled; and the jury, consisting of peers and barons of the first rank, found Bothwell not guilty of the crime.