Elder John Leland

FURTHER SKETCHES OF THE LIFE OF ELDER JOHN LELAND

IT is much to be regretted that Mr. Leland has not left us a more full and minute history of his eventful life. Rich as it was in interesting and instructive incidents, he has compressed the whole in the space of a few pages, remarking, with his characteristic modesty and humility, that " this was all that was worth preserving;" while, had he registered them all with as much minuteness as is usually found in biographies, the narrative must have extended to volumes.

The difficulty of authenticating incidents, as well as the narrow limits to which the further notices must be confined, render it impossible to add more than a brief continuation of his history to the time of his death, together with slight sketches of some important circumstances, which he has deemed proper entirely to omit, or slightly to mention.

The intervening period, between the year 1835, (at which time his narrative closes) and the death of his wife, October 5th, 1837, was spent in Cheshire, Massachusetts, to which place he had removed in 1831. Here he occupied the leisure left him by his ministerial labors, in the care of the little spot of ground he had chosen, where he probably expected to end his days; while Mrs. Leland, who had been emphatically a " helpmate" for him through many years, attended, alone, to the management of his domestic affairs, and gave considerable attention to the cultivation of a small garden, Here they exercised that cordial hospitality for which they were always remarkable, in the entertainment of the many friends who visited them from time to time, setting examples of piety and of the Christian virtues which will not soon be forgotten by those whose good fortune it was to be their neighbors.

The afflictive stroke which at length deprived him of the companion who had trodden with him so great a share of the rough path of life, was [pg 42] rendered doubly painful by the nature of the disease, which left to her friends not even the sad consolation of alleviating the distress they could not remove. A difficulty in her throat, which had been a long time increasing, at length reached such a height, that some months before her death, she could swallow nothing but liquids. The ability to do even this, continued to decrease from day to day, her strength wasting for want of nourishment, till life could no longer retain its feeble hold, and she literally starved to death.

A more than passing notice is due to the character of this extraordinary woman. She was not less remarkable in her sphere, than her husband in his. Her eulogy has been written by the pen of inspiration. No one who knew her and was acquainted with her history, can fail to observe that in the whole of the admirable description of the virtuous woman, (Prov. 31.,) there is scarcely a circumstance named, that did not meet in her, a literal fulfilment.

Liberality, and kindness to the needy, formed a prominent feature in her character; none that appealed to her for aid that it was in her power to bestow, were ever sent empty away. This liberality, joined with that love of independence, which was always a predominant and cherished peculiarity of both Mr. and Mrs. Leland, forbade her ever forgetting an act of kindness shown to herself, or failing to cancel the obligation by bestowing a much greater in return. In strength of mind, firmness of purpose, courage and self possession in danger, fortitude in circumstances of trial and suffering, indeed, in all those qualities that combine to produce energy of character, she has probably had few superiors, in any age; yet, in the exercise of these manly virtues, as they are sometimes called, she never acquired that masculine bearing that is too apt to accompany the possession of these qualities in the female sex. Though far removed from the softness and weakness which unfits a woman for enduring hardship, privation, and suffering, she was equally so from the opposite extreme; sustaining as well the delicacy as the dignity of the female sex.

An example of that habitual presence of mind as well as courage, which never failed her in any emergency, is found in the instance in which, like a guardian angel, she saved her husband from the murderer's sword. A similar illustration of these, and other strongly marked traits, is presented in the fact, that when one of her children, a little girl of four years old, had her head crushed under the wheels of a loaded cart which passed directly over it, she sat through the long hours of night with the child in her arms, pressing with her fingers a divided artery, to prevent the effusion of blood which would have caused immediate death. The child, almost miraculously saved, " rose up to call her blessed," and still lives to receive the same tribute of gratitude from a numerous posterity.

Constant, active industry was a distinguishing characteristic of Mrs. [pg 43] Leland. From its beginning to its close, her life was one of unceasing toil. Even in age, when necessity no longer required such exertion, the habit of active employment had become so much a part of her being, and her natural independence of feeling was so strong, that she could not be prevailed upon to desist from her accustomed round of domestic labors, till her exhausted strength compelled her to relinquish them into other hands. Neither was her industry of that noisy, bustling kind, whose results are usually in inverse proportion to the amount of effort employed. To her might be applied, with peculiar propriety, the encomium bestowed upon another. "She was always busy, and always quiet."

The guiding hand of Providence was never perhaps more evident, than in directing Elder Leland's choice to so suitable a companion for the stormy times of the revolution. Her training had been emphatically in the school of adversity; and her history is a striking exemplification of the sentiment which one of her own sex has no less truly than beautifully expressed.

At the age of two years she lost a fond and somewhat affluent Father, and was driven from a good home by a brutal step-father, when a little more than four years old. Her feet were partly frozen off by exposure; soon after the canker attacked her throat, eat out her palate,⁸ and for a long time her life was despaired of. At length, he, who in the midst of wrath even remembereth mercy, bound up her broken constitution, and gave her grace to see how great things she must suffer for his name's sake. When she recovered her health, she found that others had taken possession of all the property, and nothing lay before her but a life of dependence and servitude. But the God in whom she trusted fortified her heart and strengthened her hands, and when he, to whom her faith was plighted, said, "I go to proclaim a Savour's love in a land overrun with British soldiers and American tories, and trodden down by a dominant established clergy, she replied like Rebecca, "I will go." Her faith was firm in him who had said, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee."
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⁸ ___In consequence of this misfortune, her speech was so much impaired, that through life it was difficult for persons not well acquainted with her, to understand her.

The "poor man's blessings" were his. She had a numerous family, but scanty means, and through the revolution which had begun when she married, her trials were many and severe. Often was she left alone with her little ones, far from neighbors, her husband gone, with very little prospect of pecuniary reward, while runaway blacks who had neither courage to join the British army, nor patriotism to join the American, were horded together around her for plunder and sometimes murder. Many a [pg 44] long hour she plied her needle by moonlight, to prepare clothing for her little ones, fearful lest the ray of a lamp from her window might attract a bloody foe. Often, too, the famished soldier came to her for food and shelter through the stormy night. Her God had said, "feed the hungry," and she obeyed; but when she had given till naught was left, the sleepless hours were spent in watchfulness and prayer--for oh! if the assassin's knife should be concealed beneath the soldier's garb, she could not fly and leave her little ones behind. How often she prayed that God would preserve the children he had graciously given, and all were preserved to lament the best of mothers.

This sketch, given by one of her Family, who had often heard from her own lips, the story of those "troublous times," may serve to give some idea of the strength of character and depth of piety which sustained her in the midst of trials such as few women are called to endure.

The following circumstance is introduced as illustrating her capability of endurance, not only of physical, but of mental suffering. Incredible as it may seem, and inexplicable as it certainly is, the fact itself is unquestionable, as it rests on the testimony of Elder Leland himself.

One afternoon, they were startled by a sound somewhat similar to that made by a large fly when suddenly confined, apparently proceeding from within the wall of the house. After an unsuccessful effort to discover the cause, he left home and was absent six weeks without thinking again of the circumstance. On the evening of his return, however, he was reminded of it by a groan so sudden and piercing as to make him start up in amazement; his surprise was not lessened, when, upon inquiry he learned that the same had been heard every night of his absence, recurring each night a few minutes later than the preceding, and continuing about ten minutes at a time. It continued to be heard in the same manner, eight months, becoming at every return louder and more terrible. As this was at the period (spoken of in the autobiography) of an extensive revival in York and the adjacent counties, he was, consequently, absent a considerable part of the time, and Mrs. Leland was left alone with two little children, the eldest less than three years old, who, when the sound began to be heard, would cling around her in terror, exclaiming "the groaner has come." As often as any examination was made of the spot whence the noise seemed to issue, with the view of discovering whether it proceeded from some animal confined within the wall, it removed to another place, and thus defied all attempts at investigation. Wearied at length by unsuccessful efforts to discover a natural cause, Elder Leland resolved to try the effect of prayer; accordingly, when in the darkness of midnight, the dreadful meanings again commenced, he betook himself to the all-conquering weapon. Said he, in relating it to a friend, "if ever I prayed in my life, it was then." He prayed, that if it was a messenger [pg 45] of good, he might be emboldened to speak to it, and learn its errand, but if it was a spirit of evil, that it might be commanded to depart, and suffered to trouble them no more, During the prayer, the sound grew louder and more terrific, till at the conclusion, in a piercing shriek it departed, and never returned again. Those who have heard Elder Leland relate the incident, describe the sound he made in imitation of it, as unearthly and frightful to the last degree. It may be left to the imagination of the reader to picture to itself the amount and intensity of mental suffering which this event alone must have produced.

It has been remarked of Mrs. Leland, that her faith was strong. Indeed, on some occasions, it seemed to rest on grounds that partook of the character of revelations. An instance of this kind occurred in the storm by which they were overtaken on their passage from Virginia to New England, in 1791. After twelve hours of incessant watching and agonizing prayer, expecting momentarily to go to the bottom, she appeared to sink into a slumber; but presently turning to her husband, she exclaimed, "We shall not be lost." She had received this assurance from a figure in white which seemed to stand before her, measuring off piece after piece of a long white cord, and which said to her, "The vessel cannot sink, I have undergirded it."

In her last illness, she exhibited the utmost patience and resignation under all her sufferings. She spoke with great warmth and animation of the Divine goodness to her, and especially found cause of thankfulness in the circumstance, that for many weeks before her death, she did not feel the sensation of hunger. She had very humiliating views of herself; and desires proportionably great to exalt and magnify the riches of that grace which had proved sufficient in every scene of trial hitherto, and which she trusted would not fail her in the last; and truly it did not; for when the hour of release arrived, so gently did the hand of death loosen the bonds of her captivity, that not a groan was heard by those who stood around her bed, and a long life of eminent usefulness was crownd by a death of "perfect peace."

On the 12th October, 1837, a few days after the death of his wife, Elder Leland removed to the house of his son-in-law, Mr. James Greene, in Lanesborough, where he resided most of the time until his death. Thence he made frequent preaching excursions to the neighboring towns, and sometimes took journeys of considerable length. In the summer of 1838, he visited Utica and its vicinity, (the residence of his eldest son,) and was absent several weeks. The following letter, to his daughter, was written during his absence.

August 8, 1838.

I am now at Deerfield, and have made it a call-by home for about ten days past. The crops of the earth, and the heat of the air, are [pg 46] great in all places where I have been. I have calls enough to preach, and have hitherto had strength to answer those calls, though in a poor, imperfect manner. My health and appetite are as good as common. All is uncertain when, or whether ever I shall return to Berkshire again. My life is not in my own hands, but I commit it, and all that I have, to the care of that Gracious Being who has fed and preserved me through an unprofitable life. I hope you will indulge no unnecessary anxiety about me; for I deserve but small favors from men, and less from the Creator. Farewell, my Fanny. Shun all the errors you have seen in me: be faithful unto death, and you will receive a crown of life.

JOHN LELAND.

His health, after his return, was such as for some days seriously to alarm his friends. He, however, soon recovered.

In the fall of 1839, his daughter, with whom he resided, was attacked by an illness, which, after two years and a half of intense suffering, released her from the world and its cares; not, however, till she had seen her father, whose anxious solicitude in her behalf she fully reciprocated, removed to a better world. During the winter of 1840-41, he thought best, in consideration of her health, and some other circumstances, to remove, for a few weeks, to the house of Mr. Chapman, in Cheshire. He continued to "do the work of an evangelist;" and at the time of his last call at his daughter's, was on his way to North Adams, where he was soon to end his days.

On the evening of the 8th January, he preached, for the last time, to the people of that village. It is matter of regret, that this discourse, interesting not only in itself, but especially so from the circumstances of its delivery, cannot be presented entire to the public. But, as it is well known that he never wrote even the heads of his sermons the memories of his hearers are the only source from which we can draw, for even these. A friend has kindly furnished a sketch from recollection, which is here subjoined.

"The text was from the 20th and 27th verses of the 2d chapter of the First Epistle of John.-`But ye have an unction from the Holy One, and ye know all things. But the annointing which ye have received of him, abideth in you; and you need not that any man teach you; but as the same anointing teacheth you of all things, and is truth, and is no lie, and even as it hath taught you, ye shall abide in him.'

"He first spoke of the nature and character of the Holy Spirit, the unction referred to, from whence it came, &c., and remarked that the same that is sometimes compared to fire and water, is here likened to oil. He spoke of the properties of oil; its being used to lubricate the wheels of machinery; and when ignited, to give light and heat; and when applied to an abraded surface, or painful limb, to mitigate pain and suffering, and [pg 47] to heal the injury or wound; in all which uses it resembled the unction spoken of in the text. True Christians are anointed ones; anointed with gifts and spiritual endowments by the Spirit of Grace which comes from the Holy One, enlightening and strengthening the eyes of the understanding, and enabling those who receive it, to 'know all things' concerning Christ and his religion. Those who know the truth, are by it prepared to discern what is contrary thereto. It will preserve those in whom it abides, and teaches them to abide in Christ. He spoke of the resurrection--of the new birth--said no one could experience it while believing in the doctrine of universal salvation.⁹ He could extend hope and charity to those who believed that sentiment, after a change of heart, but not before. _____________________
⁹ ___ He has been heard to express the same opinion on other occassions, drawing his conclusions from the fact, that persons, in being made partakers of the grace of life, are brought to view themselves utterly lost without that grace--a conviction which they cannot feel, while they imagine themselves in no danger of receiving the "wages of sin, which is death."

"It is pleasant and mournful to my soul, at this moment, to recollect with what benignity of countenance he pronounced his last benediction."

After the services were closed, he went to the house of Mr. Darling. A number of friends calling, he conversed freely and cheerfully, and attended prayers before retiring to bed, which he did at a rather late hour. An unusual noise being soon after heard in his chamber, Mr. D. went immediately to the room, where he found him prostrate on the floor. Feeling unwell, and a disposition to vomit, he had attempted to rise, and, as he said, "his limbs would not obey him." He was placed in bed, and means used to restore warmth to his stiffened limbs. They were partially successful, and he obtained a little rest. He had chills, however, through the night, followed by heat and thirst. He arose and dressed himself in the morning; but, being very feeble, a medical friend in the village was called in. He was pronounced very ill; and, when asked whether he thought he should recover, said "he had not the token." In his former illnesses, though he had been, to human appearance, on the very verge of the grave, he had received some token which impressed him with the conviction that he should recover. But as, in this instance, he gained no such evidence, he seemed to think it useless to make much effort for his recovery. "In this," says the physician who attended him, " I was not much disappointed, having known before that he had little confidence in medicine, unless well mixed with prayer. He freely consented, however, to use whatever remedies I thought best to administer. Not wishing to burthen his mind with even the small quantity of medicine I thought proper to give him, I directed the watchers, during the night, to mingle it with his drinks. This plan succeeded only until the next morning, when he said, `take it away, and give me some clean water.' On the morning of the 10th, he was [pg 48] apparently better--rather talkative--related a story, or drew a comparison at every change in the conversation. At evening be was worse. He complained that he could neither stop thinking, nor direct his thoughts. His cough was becoming harder, and his breathing more laborious. He spoke with difficulty--said his tongue would not obey him. He had now most of the distinguishing symptoms of peripneumonia notha.

"11th. In the morning, easier--at evening, worse than the preceding. He had so little command of his tongue, that it was difficult to understand him. I continued the use of some medicine, though I now despaired of his recovery. On the morning of the 12th, we thought him somewhat better. He conversed pleasantly, and his eyes sparkled with much of that brilliancy of intellect which they were accustomed to exhibit when in health. In the evening, he was again worse; and while I was sitting by his bed, supposing him asleep, he said, (addressing himself,) 'well, I have nothing more to do, but die.'

"13th. Failing. He suffered apparently little, except his laborious breathing. Indeed, during his sickness, there was but a solitary instance in which he mentioned having any pain--it was in his left side, and continued but a few minutes. His dissolution was now almost hourly expected.

"On the 14th, Mr. and Mrs. Chapman, with whom he had been boarding in Cheshire, visited him. He seemed much gratified, and, to our surprise, immediately began to make arrangements to return with them. In this, a little aberration of mind was apparent. With some assistance he clothed himself, called for his satchel, into which he put his Bible, then for his bills for board and medical attendance, all which being adjusted, he expressed a desire to set out for home. He was, however, prevailed on to lie down and rest a while after the fatigue he had undergone, and was assisted to the bed, from which I do not recollect that he ever again rose.

To those members of his family who could not be with him, it was a consoling reflection, even in the midst of their grief, that the hand of Providence had cast him into a family of kind friends, where nothing conducive to his comfort or recovery, would be left untried. One daughter alone was permitted the privilege of watching his pillow of sickness, and standing by his dying couch. Speaking of some of his exercises, and of the closing scene, she thus remnrks:--"In the beginning of his sickness he seemed conscious of his approaching dissolution--said he was ready when called, and calmly gave orders respecting his funeral. The day on which he died, he said to his physician--' Yesterday, doctor, a dark cloud came over--I did not know but I should fail in my expectations above.' Choked with the bitter remembrance, he paused, but soon added-- 'It's not so to-day.'