A NEW-YEAR'S DAY

The Whole History of Grandfather's Chair

by Nathaniel Hawthorne

A NEW-YEAR'S DAY, THE WHOLE HISTORY OF GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR by Nathaniel Hawthorne



ON THE evening of New-Year's Day Grandfather was walking to and fro
across the carpet, listening to the rain which beat hard against the
curtained windows. The riotous blast shook the casement as if a strong
man were striving to force his entrance into the comfortable room. With
every puff of the wind the fire leaped upward from the hearth, laughing
and rejoicing at the shrieks of the wintry storm.

Meanwhile Grandfather's chair stood in its customary place by the
fireside. The bright blaze gleamed upon the fantastic figures of its
oaken back, and shone through the open work, so that a complete pattern
was thrown upon the opposite side of the room. Sometimes, for a moment
or two, the shadow remained immovable, as if it were painted on the
wall. Then all at once it began to quiver, and leap, and dance with a
frisky motion. Anon, seeming to remember that these antics were unworthy
of such a dignified and venerable chair, it suddenly stood still. But
soon it began to dance anew.

"Only see how Grandfather's chair is dancing!" cried little Alice.

And she ran to the wall and tried to catch hold of the flickering
shadow; for, to children of five years old, a shadow seems almost as
real as a substance.

"I wish," said Clara, "Grandfather would sit down in the chair and
finish its history."

If the children had been looking at Grandfather, they would have noticed
that he paused in his walk across the room when Clara made this remark.
The kind old gentleman was ready and willing to resume his stories of
departed times. But he had resolved to wait till his auditors should
request him to proceed, in order that they might find the instructive
history of the chair a pleasure, and not a task.

"Grandfather," said Charley, "I am tired to death of this dismal rain
and of hearing the wind roar in the chimney. I have had no good time all
day. It would be better to hear stories about the chair than to sit
doing nothing and thinking of nothing."

To say the truth, our friend Charley was very much out of humor with the
storm, because it had kept him all day within doors, and hindered him
from making a trial of a splendid sled, which Grandfather had given him
for a New-Year's gift. As all sleds, nowadays, must have a name, the one
in question had been honored with the title of Grandfather's chair,
which was painted in golden letters on each of the sides. Charley
greatly admired the construction of the new vehicle, and felt certain
that it would outstrip any other sled that ever dashed adown the long
slopes of the Common.

As for Laurence, he happened to be thinking, just at this moment, about
the history of the chair. Kind old Grandfather had made him a present of
a volume of engraved portraits, representing the features of eminent and
famous people o f all countries. Among them Laurence found several who
had formerly occupied our chair or been connected with its adventures.
While Grandfather walked to and fro across the room, the imaginative boy
was gazing at the historic chair. He endeavored to summon up the por-
traits which he had seen in his volume, and to place them, like living
figures, in the empty seat.

"The old chair has begun another year of its existence, to-day," said
Laurence. "We must make haste, or it will have a new history to be told
before we finish the old one."

"Yes, my children," replied Grandfather, with a smile and a sigh,
"another year has been added to those of the two centuries and upward
which have passed since the Lady Arbella brought this chair over from
England. It is three times as old as your Grandfather; but a year makes
no impression on its oaken frame, while it bends the old man nearer and
nearer to the earth; so let me go on with my stories while I may."

Accordingly Grandfather came to the fireside and seated himself in the
venerable chair. The lion's head looked down with a grimly good-natured
aspect as the children clustered around the old gentleman's knees. It
almost seemed as if a real lion were peeping over the back of the chair,
and smiling at the group of auditors with a sort of lion-like
complaisance. Little Alice, whose fancy often inspired her with singular
ideas, exclaimed that the lion's head was nodding at her, and that it
looked as if it were going to open its wide jaws and tell a story.

But as the lion's head appeared to be in no haste to speak, and as there
was no record or tradition of its having spoken during the whole
existence of the chair, Grandfather did not consider it worth while to
wait.