At the last moment King James came forward with a letter to Elizabeth on behalf of his mother. He was very blameworthy not to have come forward at an earlier stage. His letter need surprise no one who has studied his character. It had no effect whatever on Elizabeth. The letter is dated 26th January 1587, and proceeds to say:—
“I have resolved in few words and plain to give you friendly and best advice, appealing to your ripest judgment to discern thereupon. What thing, madam, can more greatly touch me in honour both as a King and as a son than that my nearest neighbour, being in strictest friendship with me, shall rigorously put to death a sovereign prince and my natural mother? She being alike in sex and state to her that so uses her; albeit subject I grant to a harder portion, touching her, too, so nearly in proximity of blood? What law of God can permit that justice shall strike upon them whom He has appointed supreme dispensers of the same under Him, whom he hath called gods, and therefore subject to the censure of none on earth, whose anointing by God cannot be defiled by man unrevenged by the author thereof; they being supreme and immediate lieutenants of God in heaven, cannot therefore be judged by their equals on earth. What a monstrous thing it is that sovereign princes themselves should be the examples of the profaning of their own sacred diadems! Then what should move you to this form of proceeding (supposing the worst, which in good faith I look not for at your hands): honour or profit? Honour were it to you to spare when it is least looked for! Honour were it to you, which is not only my friendly advice but my earnest suit, to make me and all the princes in Europe eternally beholden to you in granting this my reasonable request! And now, I pray you pardon my free speaking, to put princes to straits of honour where through your general reputation and the universal, almost all, misliking, you may dangerously peril, both in honour and utility, your person and state. You know, madam, how small difference Cicero concludes to be betwixt utile and honestum in his discourse thereof, and which of them ought to be framed to the other. And now, madam, to conclude, I pray you so to weigh these few arguments that if I ever presumed on your nature so the whole world may praise your subjects for their dutiful care of your person and for your princely pity—the doing thereof only belongs to you, the performing thereof only appertains to you—and the praise thereof will ever be yours! Respect then, good sister, this my first, so long-continued and so earnest, request, and despatch my ambassadors with such a comfortable answer as may become your person to give and as my loving and honest devotion unto you merits to receive.
“But in case any do vaunt themselves to know further of my mind in this matter than my ambassadors do, I pray you not to take me to be a chameleon, but, by the contrary, them to be malicious impostors. And thus praying you heartily to excuse my rude and lengthy letter, I commit you, madam and dearest sister, to the blessed protection of the Most High, who must give you grace to resolve in this matter as may be honourable for you and most acceptable to Him.
James R.”
After the attempt of James had failed the Master of Gray (Patrick, 7th lord) was sent with Sir Robert Melville to make a last effort. They were long refused an audience of Elizabeth, and when it was at last granted they could not help asking themselves whether they had received a favour or an insult. These ambassadors, in the name of James and the Scottish nobles, answered for all that Mary might thereafter attempt, and proposed a resignation of her rights to the throne of England in favour of her son. “That would be arming my enemy with two rights instead of one, and making him stronger to do me hurt,” said Elizabeth. She scorned the idea of Mary's resignation in favour of her son. “Is it so!” she exclaimed; “then I put myself in a worse case than before. By God's passion that were to cut my own throat; and for a duchy or earldom to yourself, you or such as you would cause some of your desperate knaves to kill me. No, by God! we shall never be in that place.” Just as she was leaving, Melville asked her to spare Mary's life for eight days. “No,” replied she sharply; “not for an hour.” [17]
