We feel relieved, and so doubtless do our readers, in passing from the
dark tragic story of Swift, and his dubious and unhappy character, to
contemplate the useful career of a much smaller, but a much better man,
Isaac Watts. This admirable person was born at Southampton on the 17th
of July 1674. His father, of the same name, kept a boarding-school for
young gentlemen, and was a man of intelligence and piety. Isaac was the
eldest of nine children, and began early to display precocity of genius.
At four he commenced to study Latin at home, and afterwards, under one
Pinhorn, a clergyman, who kept the free-school at Southampton, he
learned Latin, Hebrew, and Greek. A subscription was proposed for
sending him to one of the great universities, but he preferred casting
in his lot with the Dissenters. He repaired accordingly, in 1690, to
an academy kept by the Rev. Thomas Rowe, whose son, we believe, became
the husband of the celebrated Elizabeth Rowe, the once popular author
of 'Letters from the Dead to the Living.' The Rowes belonged to the
Independent body. At this academy Watts began to write poetry, chiefly
in the Latin language, and in the then popular Pindaric measure. At the
age of twenty, he returned to his father's house, and spent two quiet
years in devotion, meditation, and study. He became next a tutor in the
family of Sir John Hartopp for five years. He was afterwards chosen
assistant to Dr Chauncey, and, after the Doctor's death, became his
successor. His health, however, failed, and, after getting an assistant
for a while, he was compelled to resign. In 1712, Sir Thomas Abney, a
benevolent gentleman of the neighbourhood, received Watts into his
house, where he continued during the rest of his life--all his wants
attended to, and his feeble frame so tenderly cared for that he lived
to the age of seventy-five. Sir Thomas died eight years after Dr Watts
entered his establishment, but the widow and daughters continued
unwearied in their attentions. Abney House was a mansion surrounded by
fine gardens and pleasure-grounds, where the Doctor became thoroughly
at home, and was wont to refresh his body and mind in the intervals
of study. He preached regularly to a congregation, and in the pulpit,
although his stature was low, not exceeding five feet, the excellence
of his matter, the easy flow of his language, and the propriety of his
pronunciation, rendered him very popular. In private he was exceedingly
kind to the poor and to children, giving to the former a third part
of his small income of £100 a-year, and writing for the other his
inimitable hymns. Besides these, he published a well-known treatise
on Logic, another on 'The Improvement of the Mind,' besides various
theological productions, amongst which his 'World to Come' has been
preeminently popular. In 1728, he received from Edinburgh and Aberdeen
an unsolicited diploma of Doctor of Divinity. As age advanced, he found
himself unable to discharge his ministerial duties, and offered to remit
his salary, but his congregation refused to accept his demission. On the
25th November 1748, quite worn out, but without suffering, this able and
worthy man expired.
If to be eminently useful is to fulfil the highest purpose of humanity,
it was certainly fulfilled by Isaac Watts. His logical and other
treatises have served to brace the intellects, methodise the studies,
and concentrate the activities of thousands--we had nearly said of
millions of minds. This has given him an enviable distinction, but he
shone still more in that other province he so felicitously chose and
so successfully occupied--that of the hearts of the young. One of his
detractors called him 'Mother Watts.' He might have taken up this
epithet, and bound it as a crown unto him. We have heard of a pious
foreigner, possessed of imperfect English, who, in an agony of
supplication to God for some sick friend, said, 'O Fader, hear me!
O Mudder, hear me!' It struck us as one of the finest of stories, and
containing one of the most beautiful tributes to the Deity we ever
heard, recognising in Him a pity which not even a father, which only
a mother can feel. Like a tender mother does good Watts bend over the
little children, and secure that their first words of song shall be
those of simple, heartfelt trust in God, and of faith in their Elder
Brother. To create a little heaven in the nursery by hymns, and these
not mawkish or twaddling, but beautifully natural and exquisitely simple
breathings of piety and praise, was the high task to which Watts
consecrated, and by which he has immortalised, his genius.