The Gentle Revolutionaries

Well, for once in your life you didn't exaggerate, Solomon. It’s really beautiful.” Solomon Hovey looked at his wife pretending shock. “Certainly, Mary, you never doubted my word." She had, of course, but pioneer women followed their husbands hoping for the best. In the Oriskany Valley of New York, Mary found it. “It's really beautiful,” she said again, as if she were talking to someone else, either far away or deep within her. Others agreed with her. A later observer once referred to the valley as "a poem God wrote."

There was only one school for Emelie: the Royce Female Seminary. The seminary was one of the radical schools for young women started after the American Revolution. Established in 1814 by Nancy and Eliza, like dozens of other similar schools in New York, the Royce Seminary was created on the assumption that the survival of the new republic required academic education for its women as well as its men.

Dr. Norton's service the next day was beautiful and restrained. "Abigail," he said, "established a model of a pious Christian for the village. Now, through God's grace, she is with Jesus." Later, despite the depth and strength of the sermon, Samuel could remember little more than that statement. Abigail's fate had been decided by her behavior, not some capricious Calvinistic God. That night, when he said his prayers, he shed his first tears. Holding his head high, rather than bowed, he said to Jesus, “I am proud of my wife's accomplishments, the children she gave me and our life together. Thank you."

As Dan walked slowly toward his side of the bed and sat down, neither of them knew what to do or say. After a moment Dan said, "Emelie." "Yes, Dan." "I-I am not very good easing out of awkward situations, but if you would not think it strange, I would like to try something my brother James suggested to me today." It was the first time Dan had stammered that day and Emelie knew he was ill at ease, so she only replied again, "Yes, Dan." "He did not know his wife very long before they were married," Dan continued, "and they decided to simply share their bed without c-c-consummation until they knew each other much better. When Father and Mother were youngsters, bundling was common in New Haven. James thought that bundling after marriage was better than bungling." Emelie bit her lip in the dark to keep from laughing, not at Dan, but at his inadvertent play on words. She reached across the bed in the dark and gently took his hand. He had slender, strong fingers which she had already come to love. "Dan, we will have a life together in Christ. We should begin it the way we want to. Your suggestion is excellent."

On July 2, 1834, the small bark Cashmere slowly moved away from a Boston dock, creating mixed emotions among its fourteen missionary passengers: glad to be on their way, but sad to be leaving family. Great adventures lay before them, but families and friends they probably would never see again were left on the dock. As they departed, both groups sang lively hymns together. A few tears were shed by the missionaries, but by the conclusion of the second hymn, euphoria set in: their journey had begun.

"I love you, Emelie," he said. Dan had never used those words before in his life except to Jesus. Gently he took her face in his hands and kissed her eyes, something he wanted to do since he met her.

Only a few days later, for the first time, she discovered Dan in the crow's nest. Dan had decided that there was no place he could have more privacy except, of course, in what he referred to as "their stateroom." When he allowed her long periods to take care of her correspondence, her toiletries and write in her diary, Emelie thought that Dan was simply being more generous than the other husbands. Now she wondered and worried about his safety. Mr. Wiggins, the second mate, seeing her confusion put her at ease. "He's been doing it for some time now, ma'am. The doctor is a very good sailor."

"Hi, love," he said noticing that Matilda was awake and smiling in her crib. "Who do I hug first?" "Well, I'm not done yet and I am not waving my arms at you like she is." Dan picked up the little one, kissed her on the forehead and then danced around the kitchen avoiding Emelie and her work. His wife looked at them and closed her log, saying, "What do you think your family would think of your behavior?" "Embarrassed, I'm sure, but in Clinton I would just ask Samuel to join us." That was too much for Emelie who got up, walked over to her dancing husband and said, "I love both of my children," and gave them a group hug. The hug made Matilda giggle.

Later that night, just before they went to bed, there was a brief shower followed by a concert they both loved. When the rain stopped, the frogs began to bellow as the crickets competed for attention. Lying in bed with her head on Dan's shoulder, Emelie laughed at the loudest frog, saying, "That frog must have a bag over his head; he has a powerful bass voice.” Just then, another frog let out a shrill treble and Dan commented, "I think he dislikes your bass friend." Then as the crickets’ notes got higher and higher, Emelie said, "I think they are trying to outdo their neighbors. It's romantic music. Blow out the candle, Dan."

After he received the treatise, the physician turned to leave, and he saw Emelie embrace the book she had been reading. Turning back, he asked “What is that book you are reading?” She replied, “A book about Christ.” “Have you read it before?” “Oh, yes.” “Why did you embrace it?” “Do you have a child?” “Yes.” “Do you embrace your child? “Yes. Of course.” “I embrace my children, too, and I embrace them for the same reason I embrace this book. Love.”