account of the sudden death of Mar on 29 Oct. were subsequently renewed, but the ‘great matter,’ owing to Morton's determination that Elizabeth should share an equal responsibility for it with himself, though frequently referred to afterwards in the State Papers, was not accomplished until after Morton's own death.
The death of Knox on the 24th of the following month tended on the whole to strengthen Morton's position, and gave him a freer hand. The secret of the bond of sympathy between Morton and Knox—which Morton's irregularities of conduct and impatience of ecclesiastical control somewhat severely tried—was no doubt revealed when Morton uttered at the grave of the reformer the eulogy which with several variations has become proverbial, the oldest version being apparently that preserved by James Melville, that ‘he nather fearit nor flatterit any fleche’ (Diary, p. 47). (The version given by Hume is ‘who wert never afraid of the face of man in delivering the message from God,’ ii. 284. That in Calderwood is more theatrical, ‘Here lyeth a man who in his life never feared the face of man,’ iii. 242.) On the very day of Knox's death Morton by universal consent succeeded to the regency. Though Elizabeth on the death of Mar had sent him a very flattering letter, styling him her ‘well-beloved cousin’ (Elizabeth to Morton, 4 Nov. 1572), Morton insisted on some definite promise of support before stepping into the vacant breach. Killigrew, the English ambassador, by ingeniously pretending sickness, succeeded in delaying to return a distinct answer until Morton was elected; but Morton, determined not to be duped, thought good also to become unwell, until he was in a position to put Elizabeth in a dilemma. Having at last ‘recovered from his sickness,’ he gave her plainly to understand that if she would not assist him with troops and money for the siege of the castle he should ‘renounce the regimen’ (Killigrew to Burghley, 1 Jan. 1572–3). How Morton had been employing himself during his sickness is revealed by Sir James Melville. Morton, ‘so schone as he was chosen,’ had sent for Melville, and employed him to negotiate an agreement with the defenders of the castle, with the offer of restoration ‘to their lands and possessions as before’ (Memoirs, p. 249). They not only accepted the conditions, but offered to reconcile to the regent ‘the rest of the queen's faction,’ including the Hamiltons. This latter proposal was more than Morton bargained for, and he plainly told Melville that he did not wish ‘to agree with them all’ (ib. p. 250), for that then they would be as strong as he was, and might some day circumvent him. Grange scorned to betray his friends, but Morton, according to Melville, ‘apperit to lyke him the better because he stode stif upon his honestie and reputation,’ and after giving Melville ‘great thanks’ for his trouble, seemed willing to consent to a general pacification, when, as Melville expresses it, ‘he took incontinent another course.’ (In this connection see a curious and ingenious letter of Maitland for Morton, and an equally characteristic reply of Morton in Bannatyne's Memorials, pp. 339–44.) In fact when Morton had obtained promise of support from Elizabeth he saw that his best course was to make terms with Huntly and the Hamiltons, of whose willingness to treat he had been thus accidentally informed. Chiefly through the mediation of Argyll the negotiations were successful, the agreement being ratified by the pacification of Perth, 23 Feb. 1572–3. (For the exact terms of the ‘Pacification,’ see the document printed in Reg. Privy Council, ii. 193–200, from the original copy; versions not materially differing are printed in Bannatyne's Memorials, pp. 305–315; Historie of James Sext, pp. 129–39; and in Calderwood's History, iii. 261–71.) With the secession of Huntly and the Hamiltons from the queen's party, and the assistance of money and troops from Elizabeth, Morton's difficulties were at an end. The surrender of the castle was delayed only by the persevering intrigues of Maitland. Easy terms having been more than once refused, Morton, when the fall of the castle was inevitable, insisted on the unconditional surrender of Kirkaldy of Grange, Maitland, Melville, Home, and four others. Maitland died immediately afterwards, ‘some,’ as Sir James Melville quaintly puts it, ‘supponing he tok a drink and died as the old Romans were wont to do’ (Memoirs, p. 256). Morton has been severely blamed for consenting to the execution of Grange, the ablest soldier in Scotland, but doubtless he believed it to be a stern necessity. Not merely had Grange by his romantic faithfulness to the cause of Mary in such desperate circumstances exasperated public feeling to the uttermost (see Morton's letter to Killigrew, 5 Aug. 1573, printed in Tytler's Hist. ed. 1864, iii. 422), but it was unsafe to give the friends of Mary a chance of again having the services of so able a general.
The surrender of the castle of Edinburgh was a deathblow to the cause of Mary. For several years the supremacy of Morton was unquestioned, for in truth all his great allies or foes had passed away. As a governor in times of peace Morton earned for himself a
