THE CHAIR IN THE FIRELIGHT

The Whole History of Grandfather's Chair

by Nathaniel Hawthorne

THE CHAIR IN THE FIRELIGHT, THE WHOLE HISTORY OF GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR by Nathaniel Hawthorne



"O GRANDFATHER, dear Grandfather," cried little Alice, "pray tell us
some more stories about your chair!"

How long a time had fled since the children bad felt any curiousity to
hear the sequel of this venerable chair's adventures! Summer was now
past and gone, and the better part of autumn likewise. Dreary, chill
November was howling out of doors, and vexing the atmosphere with sudden
showers of wintry rain, or sometimes with gusts of snow, that rattled
like small pebbles against the windows.

When the weather began to grow cool, Grandfather's chair had been
removed from the summer parlor into a smaller and snugger room. It now
stood by the side of a bright, blazing wood-fire. Grandfather loved a
wood-fire far better than a grate of glowing anthracite, or than the
dull heat of an invisible furnace, which seems to think that it has done
its duty in merely warming the house. But the wood-fire is a kindly,
cheerful, sociable spirit, sympathizing with mankind, and knowing that
to create warmth is but one of the good offices which are expected from
it. Therefore it dances on the hearth, and laughs broadly throughout the
room, and plays a thousand antics, and throws a joyous glow over all the
faces that encircle it.

In the twilight of the evening the fire grew brighter and more cheerful.
And thus, perhaps, there was something in Grandfather's heart that
cheered him most with its warmth and comfort in the gathering twilight
of old age. He had been gazing at the red embers as intently as if his
past life were all pictured there, or as if it were a prospect of the
future world, when little Alice's voice aroused him. "Dear Grandfather,"
repeated the little girl, more earnestly, "do talk to us again about
your chair."

Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice had been attracted to
other objects for two or three months past. They had sported in the
gladsome sunshine of the present, and so had forgotten the shadowy
region of the past, in the midst of which stood Grandfather's chair. But
now, in the autumnal twilight, illuminated by the flickering blaze of
the wood-fire, they looked at the old chair, and thought that it had
never before worn such an interesting aspect. There it stood in the
venerable majesty of more than two hundred years. The light from the
hearth quivered upon the flowers and foliage that were wrought into its
oaken back; and the lion's head at the summit seemed almost to move its
jaws and shake its mane.

"Does little Alice speak for all of you?" asked Grandfather. "Do you
wish me to go on with the adventures of the chair?'

"Oh yes, yes, Grandfather!" cried Clara. "The dear old chair! How
strange that we should have forgotten it so long!"

"Oh, pray begin, Grandfather," said Laurence, "for I think, when we talk
about old times, it should be in the early evening, before the candles
are lighted. The shapes of the famous persons who once sat in the chair
will be more apt to come back, and be seen among us, in this glimmer and
pleasant gloom, than they would in the vulgar daylight. And, besides, we
can make pictures of all that you tell us among the glowing embers and
white ashes."

Our friend Charley, too, thought the evening the best time to hear
Grandfather's stories, because he could not then be playing out of
doors. So finding his young auditors unanimous in their petition, the
good old gentleman took up the narrative of the historic chair at the
point where he had dropped it.