His children were five in number. His two sons by his first wife became students in St. John's College, Cambridge, where Nathanael, the elder, died in 1580. Eleazar, the younger, after finishing his studies, became Vicar of Clacton Magna, and died in 1591. He too was buried at Cambridge; and, by the death of both, the family of the Reformer in the male line became extinct. His three daughters by his second wife were Martha, Margaret, and Elizabeth. Martha became the wife of Alexander Fairley, eldest son of Robert Fairley, of Braid, whom we have just seen at the Reformer's death-bed. Margaret married Zachary Pont, one of the Lords of Session, and latterly minister of St. Cuthbert's, Edinburgh. Elizabeth wedded John Welsh, best known as Minister of Ayr, who was banished for the part which he took in the holding of the General Assembly at Aberdeen in July, 1605, and spent many years as pastor of a { 202} Protestant Church in France. It is of this daughter that the well-known story is told to the effect that when her husband's health failed she came over to London, and, having through the influence of friends obtained audience of King James I., requested the royal permission for his return to his native land. After some coarse pleasantry, which need not here be repeated, the king told her that if she would persuade her husband to submit to the bishops he would allow him to go back to Scotland, whereupon, lifting her apron and holding it out toward the king, she answered, like a true daughter of her father, "Please your Majesty, I'd rather kep his head (_i.e._ receive it from the block) there!"
Of the writings of Knox we have spoken incidentally in the course of our narrative, and need not therefore enter now into any minute criticism of their character and merits. They were struck out of him almost extemporaneously by emergencies that arose, and, like all similar productions, they were mainly ephemeral in their nature, so that they are studied now, for the most part, only by those who wish to gain some insight into the man, his times, and his work. He was not what might properly be called literary. He would not have described himself as another of his countrymen did, as "a writer of books." On the contrary, in the preface to the only sermon which he published, he affirmed that "he considered himself rather called of { 203} God to instruct the ignorant, comfort the sorrowful, confirm the weak, and rebuke the proud by tongue and living voice in these most corrupt times, than to compose books for the age to come; seeing that so much is written (and that by men of most singular condition) and yet so little well observed, he decreed to contain himself within the bounds of that vocation whereunto he felt himself specially called." An exception to this may perhaps be found in his "History of the Reformation in Scotland," to which throughout we have been so much indebted, and which is one of the raciest, clearest, and most trustworthy records of the heroic struggle in which he was virtually the leader of the victorious side. It has been stigmatized by Burton as egotistical; but Carlyle more justly notices how on one occasion, when his personal merit far excelled all possible description, "he hardly names himself at all"; and where he could not be truthful without speaking of himself, he invariably does so in the third person, and without any attempt to glorify the work of which he might have said, "_cujus pars magna fui_." For the rest, as Carlyle says, "His account of every event he was present in is that of a well-discerning eye-witness. Things he did not himself see, but had reasonable cause and abundant means to inquire into--battles even, and sieges--are described with something of a Homeric vigour and simplicity." It is unfortunate for modern readers that it is written in the old Scottish dialect; but if some competent scholar would only honestly modernize and faithfully edit it, a { 204} great boon would be conferred upon the present generation, for it has in it many elements of popular interest.