Narrative and reflections of Justin Wells

Preface

The author of this narrative is an invalid. More than eighteen years since, he became the victim of disease, which has produced a perfect and total paralysis of all the muscles of volition. A slight motion of the- head and body is all of which he is capable. The faculties of the mind and the vocal organs remain unimpaired. In such a state of helplessness he has written this volume, by having the manuscript laid on a frame attached to the front of his chair, and holding the pen in his teeth, as represented in the engraving.

It has been a slow and laborious work, confining him more than a year to almost incessant toil.

It is now offered to the public, with the hope that it / may be rendered a blessing to many ; and that the sufferer may derive some pecuniary aid in his affliction.

The author is aware that so strange a method of writing will appear incredible ; hence, the following"

IT PREFACE.

certificates, proffered by respectable gentlemen of the town of Colchester, Connecticut, — the place of his residence, — are here inserted.

I hereby certify, that I have visited Mr. Justin Wells, a man afflicted as he states, and wholly deprived of the use of his limbs. I have also seen him write, by holding his pen with his teeth, in a slow and toilsome way, and am fully persuaded that he can write in no other, not being able to use arms, or hands, or feet, in any degree whatever.

ALBERT F. PARK, Pastor of the M. E. Church in Colchester, Colchester, Conn., Aug. 19, 1850.

I hereby certify that I have seen Mr. Justin Wells write. I know that his manner of holding a pen is as represented in the accompanying engraving, and that all his writing is done in the same way, — he not having the least use of his hands.

J. B. WHEELER.

Colchester, Conn., Aug. 15, 1850.

Chapter I

" Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; Awake but one, and lo ! what myriads rise — Each stamps its image as the other flies. Each, as the varied avenves cf sense Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, Brightens or fades ; yet a^l, with magic art, Control the latent fibres of the heart."

The delightful and romantic town of Hebron, Conn., is hallowed in memory as the place of my birth, and the scenes of my early youth. Of all others, that spot is invested with perennial joys and unfading bliss. It is consecrated by the gambols of childhood, and the nurture of tender age. The voices of my playmates, and the wild fancies of youth, are there. It was there I chased the gay butterfly in the fields, lis- 1* tened to the gay notes of birds, and plucked the blooming flowers, to inhale their fragrance. Like a dream when the morning is come, the scenes of home now all rush upon the mind. And thither, when age has mantled my temples with the hoar-frosts of time, shall I delight, with these palsied limbs, to repair, and sit down among the graves of those I love, and weep. There, in the buoyancy of youthful hope, the future spread out its vast panorama of pleasure, usefulness, and delight. Its unexplored regions, its ample fields, and beautiful groves, which were to be traversed in my coming threescore years and ten, were to me all that poetry could describe in imagery, or pencil paint in fancy. The sportive scenes of childhood were but the vestibule through which I must pass to the inner temple of experience and usefulness. And how has my little heart panted with glowing enthusiasm and ardent longings, when thinking of the future! The future — that mysterious book, of which but a page, a sentence, i line, is disclosed at once, and which, as lisclosed, often blights our fairest prospects, destroys our most sanguine hopes, and chills our most blissful expectations.

An unbroken group was ours. A father who had a father's heart, a mother who lived only for her loved ones, four warmhearted brothers, and two lovely sisters, together with myself, the elder, constituted our happy circle. Providence dealt but sparingly with her temporal gifts; yet did no splendid mansion, with luxury loaded table, afford more affectionate or happy hearts. Poverty, however, with its lean and haggard and filthy face, was not a resident or guest within our humble home; for blessings procured by the honest, industrious labor of a father, with the frugal care and unspotted neatness of a mother, gave an aspect of comfort and easy independence to our lowly habitation. Many buildings of beautiful architecture, costly material, and imposing aspect, would be passed by the traveller with less pleasure and interest than our jessamine cottage ; for the ivy and honeysuckle, the morning-glory, and humble violet, together with a great variety of the poor man's horticultural specimens, were abundantly profuse. Exotics rich, dahlias, cactuses, and geraniums, would have as illy become our home, as jewels on a beggar's gown. But Nature, always lavish, always kind, supplied their place ; and, trained by the tasteful hand of mother, our cottage garden was filled with humble flowers, which perfumed the atmosphere with what was to us almost celestial fragrance.

Thus sweetly passed twelve happy years, — years of unsullied bliss — of pleasure un- t alloyed. How swiftly did they speed ! And though the glowing aspirations of youth would have fain transported me to the time when I should be a man ; yet so peaceful, so tranquil, was our home, gladly would 1 have remained there until time had silvered my locks, furrowed my cheeks, palsied my limbs ; and there, in that loved spot, laid me down to die. My ardent longings for coming usefulness and honor would have quietly resigned their position to the stronger love of home. Life then was as a summer's day, in whose sunbeam I sported as playfully as the insect on its tiny wing, — as an unruffled sea, upon whose smooth and tranquil surface I reposed, unmindful of clouds or storms, — as the pleasant day-dream of an excited fancy, upon whose pinions I soared in ecstasy, — as the clear, cloudless sunlight of one constant, ever-during day.

But alas ! this bright summer's day was followed by a long and gloomy night, — a night without moon or stars, — a night upon which the sun has not risen for weeks, for months, for years. This calm, unruffled sea has been lashed to a dreadful storm, and the tempest dashed its fury against my frail bark, almost to its perishing. This fanciful day-dream has become, in its opposite, a sad reality, and life, by adversity's chill blasts, become a dreary waste, — a wilderness of sorrow and of grief. I have found this to be a mixed world ; — • a world of joy and sorrow; a world of prosperity and adversity ; a world of health and disease ; a world of life and death. O, ye who have dreamed of nought but shady paths, and sunny scenes, and bubbling springs, and placid seas, and gentle zephyrs, will find yourselves deceived, as the events of life come on ! The cup of which you drink is a mingled one ; the path in which you tread alike yields thorns and flowers. Enjoyment, says one, is indestructible ; and were it not for this, how little of pleasure would be mingled in my cup ! Forty-two years have fled since first I saw the light ; and oh ! did not memory recall those twelve bright years of early youth, drear indeed would be the retrospect. Sunny spots, oases in my life's landscape, "are like angels' visits, few and far between." But often now, while this emaciated frame and useless limbs are racked with pain, do I repair to my once blissful home. Again the happy group is met ; the voices of those I love most on earth are stealing with heaven's own music on my ear, and, fresh with youthful vigor and glowing hope, I seem to live again in the bright visions of the past.

Chapter II

" O love ! thy visitings of earth are ever, ever brief, As summer's evanescent flowers, or autumn's fading leaf; We clasp thee to our throbbing hearts, and wildly, vainly cling To cherished idol^forms of clay, — frail, fragile, withering."

But a change has come over the spirit of my dream. My pen almost refuses to perform its office, and gladly would I blot from my mind's tablet the mysterious event which proved destructive to earth's enjoyments, and severed the links which so closely bound our circle.

After an absence of a few weeks from home, I started, one fine afternoon, to return. My route lay through the midst of one of the loveliest of New England's many lovely scenes. Far below, on their ocean-ward journey, danced the clear waters of the ma-

NARRATIVE OF JUSTIN WELLS. 13

jestic Connecticut, glittering in x the sun of that October sky, and sweeping around as if they loved to linger in the soft bosom of those merry green hills. Far in the distance, and on all sides, rose an amphitheatre of hills, and gently swelling mountains, spotted with beautiful farms, and crowned with their woody crests, rising tier above tier, and stretching away until they seemed to cut the azure canopy of heaven. The hours flew swiftly by, for, though a boy, I had a soul that could feel the beauties of nature. The sun, which thus far had been riding through a cloudless sky, was just sinking in the west. Filled with emotions of sublimity and love, while gazing on this magnificent scene, I thought of heaven, the home of the blessed, and, by association, of my own loved home — the bosom of my earthly joys.

Just then the paternal dwelling met my gaze. The cottage gate is opened for my reception. The voices of merry ones greet 2 my ear, and I am within the loved precincts of home. Anxious inquiries concerning health and enjoyment are proffered by her who gave me birth. But the appearance of all around was altered. In the place of the beaming intelligence and glowing affection of a mother, appeared alternately the downcast look and the vacant stare, indicating a saddened heart and a bewildered mind. I was not yet versed in the philosophy of mind, and knew not how to interpret the change; but it chilled my youthful heart, and in perplexity I retired to rest. On the succeeding morning, I arose with the dawn of the genial light, and descending the stairs, the first object that met my gaze was mother. She ran with violence, — clasped me in her arms, and, with convulsive grasp and choked utterance, breathed forth an incoherent, agonizing prayer to God, for the preservation of ner first-born son. "O God, save, oh save and care for this my boy when I am gone ! "

Bewildered, I gazed upon her as she loosed her hold, and the fearful truth was disclosed by the wild glare of those eyes, accustomed only to beam with affection and love, — my mother was a maniac ! And who can describe all that fearful word imports? — bereft of reason — that noble faculty, that off- 1 spring of Deity, that which gives dignity to man, and clothes him with a limited omnipotence. That principle was dethroned, and m its dethronement all that constituted a mother was lost.

But though madness had seized her brain, still did maternal affection outlive the wreck of mind, and anxiety for her offspring exceed all other. Who can tell the depths of a mother's heart ! Her affection knows no ebbing tide. It flows on from a pure fountain, spreading happiness through all this vale of tears, and ceases only at the ocean of eternity. It has no semblance on earth. It is deeper, stronger, purer, than any other.

It cannot be measured, fathomed, or illustrated. It is not exhausted by the advance of years. It dries not up because not reciprocated, but gushes forth when it meets no return. It is innate with her very being, — it glows early and late, — it never tires or ' decays. It is almost the essence of her very life. And is there no design in this ? Why this deep, this unquenchable, inexpressible love, in a mother's heart? O, it is to her maternal care that Providence has intrusted an immaterial, immortal being ! Enclosed within these mortal caskets are gems of purest ray — of undying worth. A pearl of precious material is hers to purify, — a diamond of the richest water is hers to increase in brilliancy, — a jewel, designed to deck the Saviour's crown, is hers to guard. Within these feeble ones are the beginnings of undying life, — the buddings of celestial exotics, — the blossoms of paradise. Then, mothers, forget not your duty! When you feel for your child the warm gushings of affection, remember, God has placed it there to enable you to discharge the important trust committed to you, — to sustain your fainting heart, as it hangs over the cradle of affliction, — to give keenness to that eye which watches the erring footsteps of wayward youth, and fire to those lips which utter a mother's prayer. A holy but responsible calling is yours, and often you feel to convert the poetical effusions of Willis into sentiments and feelings of your own :

" I sadden when thou smilest to my smile, Child of my love ! I tremble to believe That o'er the mirror of that eye of blue The shadow of my heart will always pass, — A heart that from its struggle with the world Comes often to thy guarded cradle home, And, careless of the staining dust it brings, Asks for its idol. Strange that flowers of earth Are visited by every air that stirs, And drink in sweetness only, while the child That shuts within its breast a bloom for heaven May take a blemish from the breath of love, And bear the blight forever.

18 NARRATIVE OF JUSTIN WELLS.

" I have wept With gladness at the gift of this fair child, — My life is bound up in her. But, oh God ! Thou know'st how heavily my heart at times Bears its sweet burden ; and if thou hast given To nurture such as thine, this spotless flower, And bring it unpolluted unto thee, Take thou its love, I pray thee, give it light, Though, following the sun, it turn from me. But by the chord thus wrung, and by the light Shining about her, draw me to my child, And link us close, oh God ! when near to heaven."

Chapter III

"He who directs our fate, disperses oft, In empty air, the purest wish we breathe After some golden image of delight, And sets a labyrinth where we would walk. Deep in the distance of eternity God sees."

You will observe, in that never-to-be-forgotten prayer of mother, she added what was seemingly almost a prophetic declaration. After imploring the care of Heaven upon her boy, she added, "when I am gone." She seemed to feel that soon she should lie down to die ; and oh, how fearful was her death ! — not of body, for she still lives, a wreck of her former self. Thirty long years have fled since one ray of reason's sun has darted athwart her pathway, and still an all-wise Providence withholds that precious boon. Calmly and quietly does she now await her last great change. The turbulent frenzy, which for years controlled her acts, is lulled to a quiet repose ; and, with idiotic cheerfulness, she amuses herself with the baubles of a child, or the idle fancies and illusions of the bewildered adult. But how much less saddening this state or species of insanity, than that which seems to leave the light of the intellect dimly burning in the chambers of the brain, while dark shadows have fallen upon the moral feelings and perceptions of the sufferer, and the heart, out of Avhich are "the issues of life," becomes embittered, or filled with vanity and vexation of spirit.

But from either case the mind instinctively shrinks with dread. The historian may describe the decay of empires, the wasting of kingdoms, the falling of diadems, and the desolation of a land swept by war, pestilence and famine ; — the poet may image a heart swollen and bursting with the grief of bereavement, the sighing and wailing of earth, making audible the elastic air of heaven ; — nay, the ecclesiastic may portray death itself, in all its gloominess, and in all its dreadfulness ; but nothing presents to me so melancholy an aspect as a mind in ruins ! What a scene ! What heart will not revolt at the sight ! Reason cut loose from her anchorings; the imagination filled with unearthly images; sensation fled ; perception enfeebled; consciousness stupefied; memory obliterated, and conscience paralyzed, and the complicated machinery of the mind taken in pieces and scattered upon the waves, to drift into the unknown seas of an uncontrolled fancy, or lie becalmed in idiocy !

Mind is the glory of man, and reason the glory of mind ; but, if divested of this, he is weaker than helpless infancy. The veiling of the sun and the blotting out of the stars would fail to enwrap him in such thick darkness. But, from its immateriality, and the light which revelation sheds, we learn that mind is immortal, — not subject to the decays of nature, nor capable of being destroyed by the calamities of earth. The shattered fragments of a mind in ruins shall be again collected, adjusted and balanced, by that hand which formed it at first. The body may be decomposed, but the mind survives the wreck. Matter may perish, but mind shall endure.

The ice-bound north, with its crystal cities, may crush the frail body; the entombed fires of the volcano may burst from their caverns, and a fiery sea roll over cities of life ; the spirit of the storm may shriek in fancy's ear, and the confused elements join in a requiem over desolation's march; and, as the tornado sweeps on, and the red lightning's wrath adds terror to the scene, and life after life yields to the wild revel of the elements ; — though frenzy and despair, with all their hideous train of concomitants, assume even here the dominion of the mind ; — though all these agencies, and ten thousand more, may conspire to blot man from his earthly abode, — mind lives on, vigorous and active, unharmed and immortal as its all-glorious Creator !

We are not always able to connect events with their hidden causes ; especially in the phenomena of mind, — it is a substance so subtle, and so v , intimately and mysteriously connected with that which is material ; yet some evidences of the origin of insanity, and other diseases of this principle, are often discernible.

In the case of mother, it was occasioned without any predisposition, produced either by hereditary descent or physical derangement. She had been brought by the power of that Spirit which " enlighteneth every man that cometh into the world," about four weeks previous, to see herself guilty before God, — a criminal at his bar, and condemned to death. And by the aid of that Spirit, she beheld a substitute in the sacrifice of the Son of God. With sincere and heart-felt sorrow, she bewailed her offences and guilt; with humble confidence and believing trust, she laid hold on the vicariousness of that substitute, and felt its efficacy in the removal of the burdensome load of guilt which had crushed her to the earth. I was not at home, and did not see the change produced ; but those who were familiar with her at the time speak of it as a most blissful transition. Naturally possessed of an ardent, happy and peaceful temperament, — always pleasant and always pleased, — wearing an air of contented cheerfulness, which sat undisturbed upon her brow, — there could not be such an evident change as in some persons ; for joyousness was her characteristic. But the beauty of the change was in the sanctification of this contentment, and the raising of her desires and hopes from earth to heaven. Before, all her happiness was earth-born; now, it savored of immortality. Before, it breathed only the labored and short-lived gaspings of humanity; now, divinity was linked with ill its life. Her immortal spirit could no onger feed on mortal's food, though ever so daintily prepared. She felt and knew the contrast between earthly and heavenly hope. Earth-born hopes could, indeed, for a season, alleviate the difficulties of life, and open to view fresh scenes of comfort in the near future ; but she knew full well that it lured but to bewilder, and dazzled but to blind, — that it was mortal and must soon die. But now, with Heaven's own aspiring hope, she looked beyond the narrow stream of time. This life was but the outer court her feet must tread to enter within the upper sanctuary ; this but the stepping-stone to a glorious immortality; this but the dress- 3 c ing-chamber in which she lays aside the vestments of sinful mortality, and puts on the robe of eternal righteousness. With this blissful prospect, she exultingly and triumphantly gave glory to the Lamb. Never, perhaps, did sinful mortal experience a higher state of holy joy, when first regenerated. But alas ! her bliss was of short duration.

The prevailing religion of the day was that system which elects and reprobates the race of man, and which denies every aspiring certainty of acceptance with God. Her experience was of such a nature that she knew she had passed from death unto life, and spoke with confident assurance of her change. On being visited by a worthy clergyman, who held the above tenets, she, in the sanguineness of her first love, confidently expressed her acceptance ; when he checked her ardor by expressing a doubt of the possibility of this knowledge; and though we might esteem ourselves among the elect, still we might be among the reprobates.

Her companion, my father, was one of the kindest of husbands and fathers, — lenient to a fault, and kind-hearted to a degree that bordered on unlimited indulgence. He was not, however, a pious or religious man ; — one of the world, without God or hope, and whose religious belief was in the universal salvation of guilty man; — and, as is usual with those professing that system, secretly despised the operations of the Spirit of God upon the heart. He gently suggested some few absurdities, as he was disposed to esteem them, in the Christian system, and quoted some passages of Scripture which were to him conclusive arguments in favor of his much-loved theory. Mother was accustomed to esteem his opinion highly, and her affection prompted her to deem his suggestions worthy of attention.

Soon the conflicting opinions of her husband and pastor, and her own experience, became the all-absorbing subject of her meditations, until that peaceful consciousness of believing, confiding trust in the Redeemer, gradually disappeared, and gloomy darkness enshrouded her spirit. Now she contrasted this gloom with the peaceful sunlight serenity which had been her experience a few short days previous, and with the painful contrast came the settled conviction that she was either among the eternally reprobated, or had grieved the spirit of that love which had so mercifully saved her from the ponderous guilt of sin; that that blessed dove had plumed its wings, taken its flight, and left her in the dark ; and with this conviction, despair, with its raven wings, brooded over her spirit, and a mental chaos of long, long years succeeded.

And here I might enlarge on the responsible relation of husband and wife. Infinite the influence exerted, each over the other.

Their interests undivided, how natural that a power unlimited over each other's destiny should be coexistent with their relation ! Then beware how you make the affection you bear the basis of an argument to decoy the soul from God ! Eternity, with all its solemn realities, is often legitimately affected by this relation. 3*

CHAPTER IT.

" Providence, that ever-seeing eye, Looks down with pity on the feeble toil Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate."

To resume my narrative: this was the last time we ever met in a family group. Home, with all its loved associations and holy joys, was now destroyed. The mainspring of its mechanism was broken. The key which disclosed its treasures was lost. The girdle which encircled it was broken, and all of which it was composed scattered to strangers' homes, to strangers' hearths, and to strangers' hearts. Time wore away, and brought in its course some transient gleams of sunshine and of joy. Childhood, so elastic, could not be strained by sorrow to its utmost tension, and there remain ; but, springing back to its accustomed cheerfulness, brought happiness of an evanescent kind. Homes where abundance supplied the meal, and benevolent kindness sat as master round the loaded table and happy hearth, a kind Providence provided for each sorrowing one. Occasional meetings of two or three of our little group gave a higher zest and keener relish to our pleasures. Some of our circle were adopted by warm and loving hearts, and shared the sympathies of kindly affection and glowing love. Being the elder, and able to earn my bread by daily toil, I never knew again the pleasures of a home. True, I always lived among those who seemed to have a care for the lonely one ; but, however pleasant, it was not home. And here I would remark to those who shelter other than their own cherished ones, speak kindly to that heart, for kindness will heal its wounds, and be as balm upon its wounded spirit. Let that golden precept be bound as an amulet about your hearts : " Whatsoever ye would have others do to you, do ye even so to them." Did you realize, as one who has experienced and felt its power, the veneration, gratitude and love, that will ever be yours, you surely would aim at kindness and considerate care. One who has in a stranger's circle experienced the blessings of a home, will, down to the last hour of life, hold the master of that house in grateful remembrance. If prosperity attend his pathway, and he become, by a kind Providence, among the great of earth, that kindness will be ever in memory's storehouse stored. If adversity be his portion, he will look back to that habitation as one of the greener spots of earth. The retrospect will be pleasing, and the mention of any of that family will send a thrill of grateful pleasure through the soul, and call forth associations of a delightful kind. O ! the magic power of kindness, that practical essence of love ! A charm encircles it of brighter halo than all earth's honors. To know and feel the power of kindness is heaven.

" Nought is seen More beautiful, or excellent, or fair, Than face of faithful friend, fairest when seen In darkest day. And many sounds were sweet, Most ravishing and pleasant to the ear, But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend, Sweet always, sweetest heard in loudest storm. Some I remember, and will ne'er forget, My early friends — friends of my evil day, Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too, Friends given by God in mercy and in love."

How lovely is kindness, and how great its benefits upon the stricken ones of earth ! Nought else so akin to heaven is dispensed so cheaply, — is so beneficial. It imparts mutual blessings. It blesseth him that gives, and him that receives. Man thrives by nourishing his fellow-man. God has designed that every gift of his should be twice blessed, — that it should circulate through society, and be elastic as the breath of heaven. And for the encouragement of this virtue, God has established it as a fixed principle in his moral government, that " whatever a man soweth that shall he also reap;" — a principle that may be seen in operation throughout all the circles of society. He who shuts up his bowels of compassion, shall receive no compassion. He who refuseth to show mercy, shall receive no mercy. He that is benevolent, shall reap benevolence ; and he that is affectionate and kind, shall reap affection and kindness. O ! if this law were written indelibly upon every heart, how soon would earth bloom in paradisaical beauty and love! How soon would the dove of peace hover over and brood the brotherhood of man ! Then would sympathy, that connecting link in humanity's chain, the intimate attendant and twin sister of kindness, lift its consolatory form, and smile to see the blissful change in our sin-stricken earth. Then could we sing exultingly,

" We share our mutual woes, Our mutual burdens bear, While often for each other flows The sympathizing tear."

Then would Goldsmith cense to be acknowledged a true delineator of friendship's power, when he sang

" And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep, A shade that follows wealth and fame, And leaves the wretch to weep. 5,