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Page 45
"And I hope," said Clara, "he had it varnished and gilded anew."
"No," answered Grandfather. "What Mr. Hutchinson desired was to restore
the chair, as much as possible, to its original aspect, such as it had
appeared, when it was first made out of the Earl of Lincoln's oak-tree.
For this purpose he ordered it to be well scoured with soap and sand and
polished with wax, and then provided it with a substantial leather
cushion. When all was completed to his mind, he sat down in the old
chair, and began to write his History of Massachusetts."
"Oh, that was a bright thought in Mr. Hutchinson!" exclaimed Laurence.
"And, no doubt, the dim figures of the former possessors of the chair
flitted around him, as he wrote, and inspired him with a knowledge of
all that they had done and suffered while on earth."
"Why, my dear Laurence," replied Grandfather, smiling, "if Mr.
Hutchinson was favored with any such extraordinary inspiration, he made
but a poor use of it in his History; for a duller piece of composition
never came from any man's pen. However, he was accurate, at least,
though far from possessing the brilliancy or philosophy of Mr.
Bancroft."
"But, if Hutchinson knew the history of the chair," rejoined Laurence,
"his heart must have been stirred by it."
"It must, indeed," said Grandfather. "It would be entertaining and
instructive, at the present day, to imagine what were Mr. Hutchinson's
thoughts, as he looked back upon the long vista of events with which
this chair was so remarkably connected."
And Grandfather allowed his fancy to shape out an image of
Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson, sitting in an evening reverie by his
fireside, and meditating on the changes that had slowly passed around
the chair.
A devoted monarchist, Hutchinson would heave no sigh for the subversion
of the original republican government, the purest that the world had
seen, with which the colony began its existence. While reverencing the
grim and stern old Puritans as the founders of his native land, he would
not wish to recall them from their graves, nor to awaken again that
king-resisting spirit, which he imagined to be laid asleep with them
forever. Winthrop, Dudley, Bellingham, Endicott, Leverett, and
Bradstreet! All these had had their day. Ages might come and go, but
never again would the people's suffrages place a republican governor in
their ancient Chair of State!
Coming down to the epoch of the second charter, Hutchinson thought of
the ship-carpenter Phips, springing from the lowest of the people, and
attaining to the loftiest station in the land. But, he smiled to
perceive that this governor's example would awaken no turbulent ambition
in the lower orders, for it was a king's gracious boon alone that made
the ship-carpenter a ruler. Hutchinson rejoiced to mark the gradual
growth of an aristocratic class, to whom the common people, as in duty
bound, were learning humbly to resign the honors, emoluments, and
authority of state. He saw,--or else deceived himself--that, throughout
this epoch, the people's disposition to self-government had been growing
weaker, through long disuse, and now existed only as a faint
traditionary feeling.
The Lieutenant-Governor's reverie had now come down to the period at
which he himself was sitting in the historic chair. He endeavored to
throw his glance forward, over the coming years. There, probably, he saw
visions of hereditary rank, for himself and other aristocratic
colonists. He saw the fertile fields of New England, portioned out among
a few great landholders, and descending by entail from generation to
generation. He saw the people a race of tenantry, dependent on their
lords. He saw stars, garters, coronets, and castles.
"But," added Grandfather, turning to Laurence, "the
Lieutenant-Governor's castles were built nowhere but among the red
embers of the fire, before which he was sitting. And, just as he had
constructed a baronial residence for himself and his posterity, the fire
rolled down upon the hearth, and crumbled it to ashes!"
Grandfather now looked at his watch, which hung within a beautiful
little ebony Temple, supported by four Ionic columns. He then laid his
hand on the golden locks of little Alice, whose head had sunk down upon
the arm of our illustrious chair.
"To bed, to bed, dear child!" said he. "Grandfather has put you to
sleep, already, by his stories about these FAMOUS OLD PEOPLE!"
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