Read Online True Stories From History and Biography by Nathaniel Hawthorne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nathaniel Hawthorne
Tags: General Fiction
Ads: Link
search into some old books and manuscripts, before proceeding
further. Besides, it is now a good time to pause in our narrative; because
the new charter, which Sir William Phips brought over from England, formed
a very important epoch in the history of the province."
"Really, Grandfather," observed Laurence, "this seems to be the most
remarkable chair in the world. Its history cannot be told without
intertwining it with the lives of distinguished men, and the great events
that have befallen the country."
"True, Laurence," replied Grandfather, smiling, "We must write a book,
with some such title as this,—MEMOIRS OF MY OWN TIMES, BY GRANDFATHER'S
CHAIR."
"That would be beautiful!" exclaimed Laurence, clapping his hands.
"But, after all," continued Grandfather, "any other old chair, if it
possessed memory, and a hand to write its recollections, could record
stranger stories than any that I have told you. From generation to
generation, a chair sits familiarly in the midst of human interests, and
is witness to the most secret and confidential intercourse, that mortal
man can hold with his fellow. The human heart may best be read in the
fireside chair. And as to external events, Grief and Joy keep a continual
vicissitude around it and within it. Now we see the glad face and glowing
form of Joy, sitting merrily in the old chair, and throwing a warm
fire-light radiance over all the household. Now, while we thought not of
it, the dark clad mourner, Grief, has stolen into the place of Joy, but
not to retain it long. The imagination can hardly grasp so wide a subject,
as is embraced in the experience of a family chair."
"It makes my breath flutter,—my heart thrill,—to think of it," said
Laurence. "Yes; a family chair must have a deeper history than a Chair of
State."
"O, yes!" cried Clara, expressing a woman's feeling on the point in
question, "The history of a country is not nearly so interesting as that
of a single family would be."
"But the history of a country is more easily told," said Grandfather. "So,
if we proceed with our narrative of the chair, I shall still confine
myself to its connection with public events."
Good old Grandfather now rose and quitted the room, while the children
remained gazing at the chair. Laurence, so vivid was his conception of
past times, would hardly have deemed it strange, if its former occupants,
one after another, had resumed the seat which they had each left vacant,
such a dim length of years ago.
First, the gentle and lovely lady Arbella would have been seen in the old
chair, almost sinking out of its arms, for very weakness; then Roger
Williams, in his cloak and band, earnest, energetic, and benevolent; then
the figure of Anne Hutchinson, with the like gesture as when she presided
at the assemblages of women; then the dark, intellectual face of Vane,
"young in years, but in sage counsel old." Next would have appeared the
successive governors, Winthrop, Dudley, Bellingham, and Endicott, who sat
in the chair, while it was a Chair of State. Then its ample seat would
have been pressed by the comfortable, rotund corporation of the honest
mint-master. Then the half-frenzied shape of Mary Dyer, the persecuted
Quaker woman, clad in sackcloth and ashes, would have rested in it for a
moment. Then the holy apostolic form of Eliot would have sanctified it.
Then would have arisen, like the shade of departed Puritanism, the
venerable dignity of the white-bearded Governor Bradstreet. Lastly, on the
gorgeous crimson cushion of Grandfather's chair, would have shone the
purple and golden magnificence of Sir William Phips.
But, all these, with the other historic personages, in the midst of whom
the chair had so often stood, had passed, both in substance and shadow,
from the scene of ages. Yet here stood the chair, with the old Lincoln
coat of arms, and the oaken flowers and foliage, and the fierce lion's
head at the summit, the whole, apparently, in as perfect preservation as
when it had first been
further. Besides, it is now a good time to pause in our narrative; because
the new charter, which Sir William Phips brought over from England, formed
a very important epoch in the history of the province."
"Really, Grandfather," observed Laurence, "this seems to be the most
remarkable chair in the world. Its history cannot be told without
intertwining it with the lives of distinguished men, and the great events
that have befallen the country."
"True, Laurence," replied Grandfather, smiling, "We must write a book,
with some such title as this,—MEMOIRS OF MY OWN TIMES, BY GRANDFATHER'S
CHAIR."
"That would be beautiful!" exclaimed Laurence, clapping his hands.
"But, after all," continued Grandfather, "any other old chair, if it
possessed memory, and a hand to write its recollections, could record
stranger stories than any that I have told you. From generation to
generation, a chair sits familiarly in the midst of human interests, and
is witness to the most secret and confidential intercourse, that mortal
man can hold with his fellow. The human heart may best be read in the
fireside chair. And as to external events, Grief and Joy keep a continual
vicissitude around it and within it. Now we see the glad face and glowing
form of Joy, sitting merrily in the old chair, and throwing a warm
fire-light radiance over all the household. Now, while we thought not of
it, the dark clad mourner, Grief, has stolen into the place of Joy, but
not to retain it long. The imagination can hardly grasp so wide a subject,
as is embraced in the experience of a family chair."
"It makes my breath flutter,—my heart thrill,—to think of it," said
Laurence. "Yes; a family chair must have a deeper history than a Chair of
State."
"O, yes!" cried Clara, expressing a woman's feeling on the point in
question, "The history of a country is not nearly so interesting as that
of a single family would be."
"But the history of a country is more easily told," said Grandfather. "So,
if we proceed with our narrative of the chair, I shall still confine
myself to its connection with public events."
Good old Grandfather now rose and quitted the room, while the children
remained gazing at the chair. Laurence, so vivid was his conception of
past times, would hardly have deemed it strange, if its former occupants,
one after another, had resumed the seat which they had each left vacant,
such a dim length of years ago.
First, the gentle and lovely lady Arbella would have been seen in the old
chair, almost sinking out of its arms, for very weakness; then Roger
Williams, in his cloak and band, earnest, energetic, and benevolent; then
the figure of Anne Hutchinson, with the like gesture as when she presided
at the assemblages of women; then the dark, intellectual face of Vane,
"young in years, but in sage counsel old." Next would have appeared the
successive governors, Winthrop, Dudley, Bellingham, and Endicott, who sat
in the chair, while it was a Chair of State. Then its ample seat would
have been pressed by the comfortable, rotund corporation of the honest
mint-master. Then the half-frenzied shape of Mary Dyer, the persecuted
Quaker woman, clad in sackcloth and ashes, would have rested in it for a
moment. Then the holy apostolic form of Eliot would have sanctified it.
Then would have arisen, like the shade of departed Puritanism, the
venerable dignity of the white-bearded Governor Bradstreet. Lastly, on the
gorgeous crimson cushion of Grandfather's chair, would have shone the
purple and golden magnificence of Sir William Phips.
But, all these, with the other historic personages, in the midst of whom
the chair had so often stood, had passed, both in substance and shadow,
from the scene of ages. Yet here stood the chair, with the old Lincoln
coat of arms, and the oaken flowers and foliage, and the fierce lion's
head at the summit, the whole, apparently, in as perfect preservation as
when it had first been
Similar Books
