To ascertain whether there was any thing to hinder the execution of their design, Darnley, about eight o’clock, went up the private stairs, and, entering the small room where his wife was supping, sat down familiarly beside her. He found, as he expected, his victim Rizzio in attendance, who, indeed, owing to bad health, and the little estimation in which he was held by the populace, seldom went beyond the precincts of the palace.[130] He was dressed, this evening, in a loose robe-de-chambre of furred damask, with a satin doublet, and a hose of russet velvet; and he wore a rich jewel about his neck, which was never heard of after his death.[131] The conspirators having allowed sufficient time to elapse, to be satisfied that all was as they wished, followed the King up the private way, which they chose in order to avoid any of the domestics who might have been in the presence-chamber, and given an alarm. They were headed by the Lord Ruthven, and George Douglas, an illegitimate son of the late Earl of Angus, and the bastard brother of Darnley’s mother, the Lady Lennox; a person of the most profligate habits, and an apt instrument in the hands of the Earl of Morton. These men, followed by as many of their accomplices as could crowd into the small room where Mary sat, entered abruptly and without leave; whilst the remainder, to the number of nearly two score, collected in her bedroom. Ruthven, with his heavy armour rattling upon his lank and exhausted frame, and looking as grim and fearful as an animated corpse, stalked into the room first, and threw himself unceremoniously into a chair. The Queen, with indignant amazement, demanded the meaning of this insolent intrusion, adding, that he came with the countenance, and in the garb of one who had no good deed in his mind. Turning his hollow eyes upon Rizzio, Ruthven answered, that he intended evil only to the villain who stood near her. On hearing these words, Rizzio saw that his doom was fixed, and lost all presence of mind; but Mary, through whose veins flowed the heroic blood of James V., and his warlike ancestors, retained her self-possession. She turned to her husband, and called upon him for protection; but perceiving that he was disposed to remain a passive spectator of the scene, she ordered Ruthven to withdraw under pain of treason, promising, that if Rizzio was accused of any crime, it should be inquired into by the Parliament then assembled. Ruthven replied only by heaping upon the unfortunate Secretary a load of abuse; and, in conclusion, declared the determination of the conspirators to make themselves masters of Rizzio’s person. Rizzio, scarcely knowing what he did, pressed close into the recess at the window, with his dagger drawn in one hand, and clasping the folds of Mary’s gown with the other. In spite of every threat, he remained standing behind her, and continually exclaiming in his native language, and in great agitation, Giustizia! Giustizia! Mary’s own person was thus exposed to considerable danger, and the assassins desired Darnley to take his wife in his arms and remove her out of the way. The confusion and terror of the scene now increased a hundredfold;—the master of the household, and the three or four servants of the privy-chamber, attempted to turn Lord Ruthven out of the room;—his followers rushing to his support, overturned the supper-table, threw down the dishes and the candles, and, with hideous oaths, announced their resolution to murder Rizzio. Their own impetuosity might have frustrated their design; for, had not the Countess of Argyle caught one of the candles in her hand as it was falling, they would have been involved in darkness, and their victim might have escaped.
The first man who struck Rizzio was George Douglas. Swords and daggers had been drawn, and pistols had been presented at him and at the Queen; but no blow was given, till Douglas, seizing the dirk which Darnley wore at his side, stabbed Rizzio over Mary’s shoulder, though, at the moment, she was not aware of what he had done. The unhappy Italian was then forcibly dragged out into the bed-room, and through the presence-chamber, where the conspirators, gathering about him, speedily completed the bloody deed, leaving in his body no fewer than fifty-six wounds. He lay weltering in his gore at the door of the presence-chamber for some time; and a few large dusky spots, whether occasioned by his blood or not, are to this day pointed out, which stain that part of the floor. The body was afterwards thrown down the stairs, and carried from the palace to the porter’s lodge, with the King’s dagger still sticking in his side. He was obscurely buried next day; but, subsequently, more honourably near the Royal vault in Holyrood Chapel.[132]
Such was the unhappy end of one who, having come into Scotland poor and unbefriended, had been raised, through the Queen’s penetration and his own talents, to an honourable office, the duties of which he discharged with fidelity. If his rise was sudden, his fall was more so; for, up to the very day of his assassination, many of the Scottish nobility, says Buchanan, “sought his friendship, courted him, admired his judgment, walked before his lodgings, and observed his levee.” But death no sooner put an end to his influence, than the memory of the once envied Italian was calumniated upon all hands. Knox even speaks approvingly of his murder, (as he had formerly done of that of Cardinal Beaton), assuring us that he was slain by those whom “God raised up to do the same”—an error, indicating a distorted moral perception, from the reproach consequent on which, his biographer, M’Crie, has unsuccessfully endeavoured to defend him.[133] The Reformer adds to his notice of Rizzio, a story which suits well the superstitious character of the times, and which Buchanan has repeated. He mentions, that there was a certain John Daniot, a French priest, and a reputed conjuror, who told Rizzio “to beware of a bastard.” Rizzio, supposing he alluded to the Earl of Murray, answered, that no bastard should have much power in Scotland, so long as he lived; but the prophecy was considered to be fulfilled, when it was known that the bastard, Douglas, was the first who stabbed him.[134]
In the meantime, the Earl of Morton, who had been left below, to guard the gates, being informed that Rizzio was slain, and that Ruthven and Darnley retained possession of the Queen’s person, made an attempt to seize several of the nobility who lodged in the palace, and whom he knew to be unfavourable to his design of restoring the banished Lords. Whether it was his intention to have put them also to death, it is difficult to say; but it is at all events not likely that he would have treated them with much leniency. The noblemen in question, however, who were the Earls of Huntly, Bothwell, and Athol, the Lords Fleming and Livingston, and Sir James Balfour, contrived, not without much difficulty, to effect their escape. The two first let themselves down by ropes at a back window; Athol, who was supping in the town with Maitland, was apprised of his danger, and did not return to Holyrood that night. He, or some of the fugitives, hastened to the Provost of Edinburgh, and informed him of the treasonable proceedings at the Palace. The alarm-bell was immediately rung; and the civic authorities, attended by five or six hundred of the loyal citizens, hastened down to Holyrood, and called upon the Queen to show herself, and assure them of her safety. But Mary, who was kept a prisoner in the closet in which she had supped, was not allowed to answer this summons, the conspirators well knowing what would have been the consequences. On the contrary, as she herself afterwards wrote to her ambassador in France, she was “extremely threatened by the traitors, who, in her face, declared, that if she spoke to the town’s people they would cut her in collops, and cast her over the walls.” Darnley went to the window, and informed the crowd that he and the Queen were well, and did not require their assistance; and Morton and Ruthven told them, that no harm had been done, and beseeched them to return home, which, upon these assurances, they consented to do.
A scene of mutual recrimination now took place between Mary and her husband, which was prolonged by the rude and gross behaviour of Ruthven. That barbarian, returning to the Queen’s apartment, after having imbrued his hands in the blood of Rizzio, called for a cup of wine, and having seated himself, drained it to the dregs, whilst Mary stood beside him. Being somewhat recovered from the extreme terror she had felt when she saw her Secretary dragged away by the assassins, she rebuked Ruthven for his unmannerly conduct; but he only added insulting language to the crimes he had already committed. Perceiving, however, that her Majesty was again growing sick and ill, (and even without considering, what the conspirators well knew, that she was in the seventh month of her pregnancy, her indisposition will excite little wonder), he proposed to the King that they should retire, taking care to station a sufficiently strong guard at the door of Mary’s chamber. “All that night,” says Mary, “we were detained in captivity within our chamber, and not permitted to have intercommunion scarcely with our servant-women.”[135]
Next morning, although it was Sunday, the conspirators issued a proclamation in the King’s name, and without asking the Queen’s leave, proroguing the Parliament,—and commanding all the temporal and spiritual lords, who had come to attend it, to retire from Edinburgh. Illegal as it was, this proclamation was obeyed; for Morton, and his accomplices, had the executive power in their own hands, and Mary’s more faithful subjects were taken so much by surprise, that they were unable to offer any immediate resistance. Mary herself was still kept in strict confinement; and the only attempt she could make to escape, which was through the assistance of Sir James Melville, failed. Sir James was allowed to leave the Palace early on the forenoon of Sunday; and, as he passed towards the outer gate, Mary happened to be looking over her window, and called upon him imploringly for help. “I drew near unto the window,” says Melville, “and asked what help lay in my power, for that I should give. She said, ‘Go to the Provost of Edinburgh, and bid him, in my name, convene the town with speed, and come and relieve me out of these traitors’ hands; but run fast, for they will stay you.’” The words were scarcely spoken, before some of the guards came up, and challenged Sir James. He told them, he “was only passing to the preaching in St Giles’s Kirk,” and they allowed him to proceed. He went direct to the Provost, and delivered his commission from the Queen; but the Provost protested he did not know how to act, for he had received contrary commands from the King; and, besides, the people, he said, were not disposed to take up arms to revenge Rizzio’s death. Sir James was, therefore, reluctantly obliged to send word to Mary, by one of her ladies, that he could not effect her release. In the course of the day, Mary was made acquainted with Rizzio’s fate, and she lamented the death of her faithful servant with tears. Between seven and eight in the evening, the Earls of Murray and Rothes, with the other banished Lords, arrived from England. During the whole of the night, and all next day, the Queen was kept as close a prisoner as before.
Morton and his accomplices, however, now found themselves in a dilemma. They had succeeded in bringing home their rebel friends, in proroguing or dissolving the Parliament, in conferring upon Darnley all the power he wished, in murdering Rizzio, and in chasing from Court the nobles who had formed part of the administration along with him. But to effect these purposes, they had grossly insulted their lawful sovereign, and had turned her own palace into a prison, constituting themselves her gaolers. Having achieved all their more immediate objects, the only remaining question was—what were they to do with the Queen? If they were to set her at liberty, could they expect that she would tamely forget the indignities they had offered her, or quietly submit to the new state of things they had established? Had they, on the other hand, any sufficient grounds for proceeding to further extremities against her? Would the country allow a sovereign, whose reign had been hitherto so prosperous, to be at once deprived of her crown and her authority?[136] Daring as these men were, they could hardly venture upon a measure so odious. Besides, Darnley, always vacillating, and always contemptible, was beginning to think he had gone too far; and, influenced by something like returning affection for his beautiful consort, who was probably in a month or two to make him a father, he insisted that the matter should now be allowed to rest where it was, provided Mary would promise to receive into favour the Lords who had returned from banishment, and would grant a deed of oblivion to all who had taken a part in the recent assassination. Morton, Ruthven, Murray, and the rest, were extremely unwilling to consent to so precarious an arrangement; but Darnley overruled their objections. On Monday evening, articles were drawn up for their security, which he undertook to get subscribed by the Queen; and, trusting to his promises, all the conspirators, including the Lords who had just returned, withdrew themselves and their retainers from Holyroodhouse, and went to sup at the Earl of Morton’s.[137]
As soon as Mary found herself alone with Darnley, she urged, with all the force of her superior mind, every argument she could think of, to convince him how much he erred in associating himself with the existing cabal. She was not aware of the full extent to which he was implicated in their transactions; for he had assured her, that he was not to blame for Rizzio’s murder, and as yet she believed him innocent of contriving it. She spoke to him therefore, with the confidence of an affectionate wife, with the winning eloquence of a lovely woman, and with the force and dignity of an injured Queen. She at length satisfied him, that his best hopes of advancement rested in her, and not on men who having first renounced allegiance to their lawful Queen, undertook to confer upon him a degree of power which was not their’s to bestow. Darnley further learned from Mary, that Huntly, Bothwell, Athol, and others, had already risen in her behalf, and yielding to her representations and entreaties, he consented that they should immediately make their escape together. At midnight, accompanied only by the captain of the guard and two others, they left the palace, and rode to Dunbar without stopping.
In a few days, Mary having been joined by more than one half of her nobility, found herself at the head of a powerful army. The conspirators, on the other hand, seeing themselves betrayed by Darnley and little supported by the country, were hardly able to offer even the shadow of resistance to the Queen. Still farther to diminish the little strength they had, Mary resolved to make a distinction between the old and the new rebels; and, influenced by reasons on which Morton had little calculated, she consented to pardon Murray, Argyle, and others, who immediately resorted to her, and were received into favour. After remaining in Dunbar only five days, she marched back in triumph to Edinburgh, and the conspirators fled in all directions to avoid the punishment they so justly deserved. Morton, Maitland, Ruthven, and Lindsay betook themselves to Newcastle, where, for aught that is known to the contrary, they occupied the very lodgings which Murray and his accomplices had possessed a week or two before.
The whole face of affairs was now altered; and Mary, who for some days had suffered so much, was once more Queen of Scotland. “And such a change you should have seen,” says Archbishop Spottiswood, “that they who, the night preceding, did vaunt of the fact (Rizzio’s murder) as a godly and memorable act, affirming, some truly, some falsely, that they were present thereat,—did, on the morrow, forswear all that before they had affirmed.” But it was not in Mary’s nature to be cruel, and her resentments were never of long continuance. Two persons only were put to death for their share in Rizzio’s slaughter, and these were men of little note. Before the end of the year, most of the principal delinquents, as will be seen in the sequel, were allowed to return to Court. Lord Ruthven, however, died at Newcastle of his old disease, a month or two after his flight thither. His death occasioned little regret, and his name lives in history only as that of a titled murderer.[138]