WHAT THE CHAIR HAD KNOWN

The Whole History of Grandfather's Chair

by Nathaniel Hawthorne

WHAT THE CHAIR HAD KNOWN, THE WHOLE HISTORY OF GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR by Nathaniel Hawthorne



"Sir William Phips," continued Grandfather, "was too active and
adventurous a man to sit still in the quiet enjoyment of his good
fortune. In the year 1690 he went on a military expedition against the
French colonies in America, conquered the whole province of Acadia, and
returned to Boston with a great deal of plunder."

"Why, Grandfather, he was the greatest man that ever sat in the chair!"
cried Charley.

"Ask Laurence what he thinks," replied Grandfather, with a smile. "Well,
in the same year, Sir William took command of an expedition against Que-
bec, but did not succeed in capturing the city. In 1692, being then in
London, King William III. appointed him governor of Massachusetts. And
now, my dear children, having followed Sir William Phips through all his
adventures and hardships till we find him comfortably seated in
Grandfather's chair, we will here bid him farewell. May he be as happy
in ruling a people as he was while he tended sheep!"

Charley, whose fancy had been greatly taken by the adventurous
disposition of Sir William Phips, was eager to know how he had acted and
what happened to him while he held the office of governor. But
Grandfather had made up his mind to tell no more stories for the
present.

"Possibly, one of these days, I may go on with the adventures of the
chair," said he. "But its history becomes very obscure just at this
point; and I must 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 firelight 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."

"Oh yes!" cried Clara, expressing a woman's feeling of 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 placed in the Earl of
Lincoln's hall. And what vast changes of society and of nations had been
wrought by sudden convulsions or by slow degrees since that era!

"This Chair had stood firm when the thrones of kings were overturned!"
thought Laurence. "Its oaken frame has proved stronger than many frames
of government!"

More the thoughtful and imaginative boy might have mused; but now a
large yellow cat, a great favorite with all the children, leaped in at
the open window. Perceiving that Grandfather's chair was empty, and
having often before experienced its comforts, puss laid herself quietly
down upon the cushion. Laurence, Clara, Charley, and little Alice all
laughed at the idea of such a successor to the worthies of old times.

"Pussy," said little Alice, putting out her hand, into which the cat
laid a velvet paw, "you look very wise. Do tell us a story about
GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR!"



APPENDIX TO PART I.

EXTRACTS FROM THE LIFE OF JOHN ELIOT,

BY CONVERS FRANCIS.

MR. ELIOT had been for some time assiduously employed in learning the
Indian language. To accomplish this, he secured the assistance of one of
the natives, who could speak English. Eliot, at the close of his Indian
Grammar, mentions him as "a pregnant-witted young man, who had been a
servant in an English house, who pretty well understood his own
language, and had a clear pronunciation." He took this Indian into his
family, and by constant intercourse with him soon become sufficiently
conversant with the vocabulary and construction of the language to
translate the ten commandments, the Lord's prayer, and several passages
of Scripture, besides composing exhortations and prayers.

Mr. Eliot must have found his task anything but easy or inviting. He was
to learn a dialect, in which he could be assisted by no affinity with
the languages he already knew. He was to do this without the help of any
written or printed specimens, with nothing in the shape of a grammar or
analysis, but merely by oral communication with his Indian instructor,
or with other natives, who, however comparatively intelligent, must from
the nature of the case have been very imperfect teachers. He applied
himself to the work with great patience and sagacity, carefully acting
the
differences between the Indian and the English modes of constructing
words; and, having once got a clew to this, he pursued every noun and
verb he could think of through all possible variations. In this way he
arrived at analyses and rules, which he could apply for himself in a
general manner.

Neal says that Eliot was able to speak the language intelligibly after
conversing with the Indian servant a few months. This, in a limited
sense, may be true; but he is said to have been engaged two years in the
process of learning, before he went to preached to the Indians. In that
time he acquired a somewhat ready facility in the use of that dialect,
by means of which he was to carry the instructions of spiritual truth to
the men of the forest, though as late as 1649 he still lamented his want
of skill in this respect.

Notice having been given of his intention [of instructing the Indians],
Mr. Eliot, in company with three others, whose names are not mentioned,
having implored the divine blessing on the undertaking, made his first
visit to the Indians on the 28th of October, 1646 at a place afterwards
called Nonantum; a spot that has the honor of being the first on which a
civilized and Christian settlement of Indians was effected within the
English colonies of North America. This name was given to the high
grounds in the north, east part of Newton, and to the bounds of that
town and Watertown. At a short distance from the wigwams, they were met
by Waban, a leading man among the Indians at that place, accompanied by
others, and were welcomed with "English salutations." Waban, who is
described as "the chief minister of justice among them," had before
shown a better disposition than any other native to receive the
religious instruction of the Christians, and had voluntarily proposed to
have his eldest son educated by them. His son had been accordingly
placed at school in Dedham, whence he had now come to attend the
meeting.

The Indians assembled in Waban's wigwam; and thither Mr. Eliot and his
friends were conducted. When the company were all collected and quiet, a
religious service was begun with prayer. This was uttered in English;
the reason for which, as given by Mr. Eliot and his companions, was,
that he did not then feel sufficiently acquainted with the Indian
language to use it in that service.

The same difficulty would not occur in preaching, since for this, we may
suppose, he had sufficiently prepared his thoughts and expressions to
make his discourse intelligible on all important points; and if he
should, in some parts, fail of being, understood, he could repeat or
correct himself, till he should succeed better. Besides, he took with
him an interpretor, who was frequently able to express his instructions
more distinctly than he could himself. Though the prayer was
unintelligible to the Indians, yet, as they knew what the nature of the
service was, Mr. Eliot believed it might not be without an effect in
subduing their feelings so as to prepare them better to listen to the
preaching.

Mr. Eliot then began his sermon, or address, from Ezek. xxxvii. 9, 10.
The word wind, in this passage, suggested to the minds of some, who
afterwards gave an account of this meeting, a coincidence which might,
in the spirit of the times, be construed into a special appointment of
Providence. The name of Waban signified, in the Indian tongue, wind; so
that when the preacher uttered the words, "say to the wind," it was as
if he had proclaimed, "say to Waban." As this man afterwards exerted
much influence in awaking the attention of his fellow savages to
Christianity, it might seem that in this first visit of the messengers
of the gospel he was singled out by a special call to work in the cause.
It is not surprising that the Indians were struck with the coincidence.
Mr. Eliot gave no countenance to a superstitious use of the
circumstance, and took care to tell them that, when he chose his text,
he had no thought of any such application.

The sermon was an hour and a quarter long. One cannot but suspect that
Mr. Eliot injudiciously crowded too much into one address. It would seem
to have been better, for the first time at least, to have given a
shorter sermon, and to have touched upon fewer subjects. But he was
doubtless borne on by his zeal to do much in a good cause; and, as we
have reason to think, by the attentive, though vague, curiosity of the
Indians.

Thus ended a conference three hours long, at the end of which the
Indians affirmed that they were not weary, and requested their visitors
to come again. They expressed a wish to build a town and live together.
Mr. Eliot promised to intercede for them with the court. He and his
companions then gave the men some tobacco, and the children some apples,
and bade them farewell.

A fortnight afterwards, on the 11th of November, Mr. Eliot and his
friends repeated their visit to the wigwam of Waban. This meeting was
more numerous than the former. The religious service was opened, as
before, with a prayer in English. This was followed by a few brief and
plain questions addressed to the children, admitting short and easy
answers. The children seemed well disposed to listen and learn. To
encourage them, Mr. Eliot gave them occasionally an apple or a cake; and
the adults were requested to repeat to them the instructions that had
been given. He then preached to the assembly in their own language,
telling them that he had come to bring them good news from God, and show
them how wicked men might become good and happy; and, in general,
discoursing on nearly the same topics as he had treated at his first
visit.



PART II.

1692-1763.