Isaac Watts was born at Southampton, July 17th, 1674, the same year in which John Milton died. He was the eldest of nine children, and was named after his father, Isaac. His father was a truly worthy and respectable man. In the course of the future years of his very long life, he became the master of a school of considerable reputation in the town. Dr. Johnson says it was reported that Watts’ father was a shoemaker. In the year 1700 Isaac Watts, of 21, French Street, Southampton, was a clothier or cloth factor; so he is described in legal documents which still exist in that town; so he is described in another deed of 1719; while in 1736 he is described as “Isaac Watts, of the town and county of Southampton, gentleman:”[1] this was the year in which he died. At the time, however, of Isaac’s birth, deep grief was round, and heavy distress over the household. The father was a Nonconformist, and a deacon of that which is now the Above Bar Congregational Church in Southampton. It was a cruel time; the laws were very bitter against Nonconformists, and the traveller through Southampton in many months of the year 1674-75 might have seen a respectable young woman, with a child at her breast, sitting on the steps of the gaol seeking and waiting for admission to her husband. It was the mother of Watts, and the daughter of Alderman Taunton. Tradition says, she was French in her lineage, of an exiled Huguenot family, driven over to England by intolerance and the massacre of St. Bartholomew, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Thus Watts was the child of persecution, and through all the earliest years of his life his mind must have been habituated to such impressions and associations as were well calculated to draw out and give sharpness and distinctness to his convictions. The old prison remains very nearly the same as when the young mother sat with her child looking up to the barred room in which her husband was confined. It stands upon the beach of the sweet Southampton waters, which then rolled much further in, and almost washed the prison doors. Legend asserts that it was only a few steps from this spot that Canute fixed his chair when, in order that he might rebuke the adulation of his courtiers, he commanded the waves to retire. Perhaps the imprisoned man turned to the incident, and thought of One who is able to still the noise of the waves and the tumult of the people, and to say to all billows, “Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further.” If able to climb to the tower of his prison, a lovely scene opened to his view: the charming hills of Bittern on the left; the “sweet fields beyond the swelling floods” opposite, on the right of the Southampton waters; at his foot the old houses of the quaint little town, and his own persecuted abode.
The author of “The Christian Life in Song” has not unnaturally conceived that probably to his mother he was indebted for the lyrical tendencies in which at a very early period his faith sought to express itself. The French Huguenots led the way in the utterance of feeling in sweet sacred hymns; and the grieving young mother might perhaps refresh her faith by some of the strains of her old people, while little knowing that she held in her arms one who was to eclipse the fame of Clement Marot in this particular. As to the imprisonment of the father, a licence had been issued in 1662 by Charles II., under the signature of Arlington, allowing “a room or rooms” in the house of Giles Say to be used for congregational worship, and Mr. Say, himself an exile and refugee from the persecutions of France, to be “the teacher.” In a short time this licence of indulgence was withdrawn, and Mr. Say and his chief supporters were thrown into prison; one of the principal of these, as we have seen, was Isaac Watts the elder. It was an unpromising commencement to an illustrious life; and this trouble was no sooner escaped from than it was renewed. Liberated from prison, Isaac was still a very young child when his father was imprisoned again on the same charge for six months. In 1683 he was obliged to flee from home into exile from his family. Where he passed his time we have no exact information, but for two years he was living principally in London; and thus the family continued to pass through a course of domestic suffering until those happier days came which brought the abdication of the Stuart family and in honour of which, on the succession of William, we cannot wonder that Isaac Watts was glad to pour out some of his earliest verses.
Watts sprang from a fairly good family. Alderman Taunton, his grandfather on his mother’s side, is still remembered in Southampton by his public benefactions. The grandfather Watts had been engaged in the naval service, and was commander of a man-of-war in the year 1656 under Admiral Blake. He appears to have been a man of great courage and many accomplishments. He had some skill in the lighter recreations of music, painting, and poetry. A story is told how in the East Indies he had a personal conflict with a tiger, which followed him into a river; he grappled with the monster, and got the better in the conflict. In the Dutch war the vessel he commanded exploded, and thus in the prime of life he met his end. It has been tenderly remarked that “the grandmother Lois” is often as influential on the opening mind as “the mother Eunice.” The widow of the gallant sailor, and grandmother of the poet, had not only many stories to tell of her husband’s adventures, but seems to have been remarkably amiable, if she may be judged by the glowing verses in which her grandson sought to do honour to her memory. She sought to instil into his mind the lessons of early piety, and exercised an influence over his early education during the time when trial and grief were strong in the household of her children. The old people appear to have possessed considerable property, but it was probably much diminished during those persecuting times. Such was the stock whence the poet was descended. We may speak of it as a good strong root, both upon the father’s and upon the mother’s side. A sap of nobleness and gentleness seems to have given vitality to both families, and to have left its best influences in their child.
Isaac Watts the elder was a man of great social worth. In after years his boarding-school became a most flourishing establishment, and children were sent to it to receive their training both from America and the West Indies. There is a document written to his family when he was living in exile from them, which places his high principles of character, his prudence and his piety, his strong Protestantism, and his intelligence in a very remarkable light. He also had a taste for sacred verse, and many of his pieces have been preserved breathing a saintly meditative spirit.
Mr. Parker, the amanuensis of Dr. Watts, mentions a singular anecdote to illustrate how his advice was sought by persons of the town on account of his reputation for wisdom. A person, a stonemason, in Southampton, had a dream. He had purchased an old building for its materials; previous to his pulling it down he dreamed that a large stone in the centre of an arch fell upon him and killed him. Upon asking Mr. Watts his opinion, he said, “I am not for paying any great regard to dreams, nor yet for utterly slighting them. If there is such a stone in the building as you saw in your dream” (which he told him there really was), “my advice to you is, that you take great care, in taking down the building, to keep far enough off from it.” The mason resolved to act upon his opinion, but in an unfortunate moment he forgot his dream, went under the arch, and the stone fell upon him and crushed him to death.
This good father lived to the advanced age of eighty-five; his son Isaac was then in his sixty-third year, and only two or three days before his father’s death addressed to him the following tender and satisfying letter:—
“Newington: February 8th, 1736-37.
“Honoured and dear Sir,
“It is now ten days since I heard from you, and learned by my nephew that you had been recovered from a very threatening illness. When you are in danger of life, I believe my sister is afraid to let me know the worst, for fear of affecting me too much. But as I feel old age daily advancing on myself, I am endeavouring to be ready for my removal hence; and though it gives a shock to nature when what has been long dear to one is taken away, yet reason and religion should teach us to expect it in these scenes of mortality and a dying world. Blessed be God for our immortal hopes, through the blood of Jesus, who has taken away the sting of death! What could such dying creatures do without the comforts of the Gospel? I hope you feel those satisfactions of soul on the borders of life which nothing can give but this Gospel, which you taught us all in our younger years. May these Divine consolations support your spirits under all your growing infirmities; and may our blessed Saviour form your soul to such a holy heavenly frame, that you may wait with patience amidst the languors of life for a joyful passage into the land of immortality! May no cares nor pains ruffle nor afflict your spirit! May you maintain a constant serenity at heart, and sacred calmness of mind, as one who has long passed midnight, and is in view of the dawning day! ‘The night is far spent, the day is at hand!’ Let the garments of light be found upon us, and let us lift up our heads, for our redemption draws nigh. Amen.