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Page 70
But, just as he was going to resume his seat, Grandfather happened to
look at the great chair. The rays of fire-light were flickering upon it
in such a manner that it really seemed as if its oaken frame were all
alive. What! Did it not move its elbow? There, too! It certainly lifted
one of its ponderous fore-legs, as if it had a notion of drawing itself
a little nearer to the fire. Meanwhile, the lion's head nodded at
Grandfather, with as polite and sociable a look as a lion's visage,
carved in oak, could possibly be expected to assume. Well, this is
strange!
"Good evening, my old friend," said the dry and husky voice, now a
little clearer than before. "We have been intimately acquainted so long,
that I think it high time we have a chat together."
Grandfather was looking straight at the lion's head, and could not be
mistaken in supposing that it moved its lips. So here the mystery was
all explained.
"I was not aware," said Grandfather, with a civil salutation to his
oaken companion, "that you possessed the faculty of speech. Otherwise, I
should often have been glad to converse with such a solid, useful, and
substantial, if not brilliant member of society."
"Oh!" replied the ancient chair, in a quiet and easy tone, for it had
now cleared its throat of the dust of ages. "I am naturally a silent and
incommunicative sort of character. Once or twice, in the course of a
century, I unclose my lips. When the gentle Lady Arbella departed this
life, I uttered a groan. When the honest mint-master weighed his plump
daughter against the pine-tree shillings, I chuckled audibly at the
joke. When old Simon Bradstreet took the place of the tyrant Andros, I
joined in the general huzza, and capered upon my wooden legs, for joy.
To be sure, the bystanders were so fully occupied with their own
feelings, that my sympathy was quite unnoticed."
"And have you often held a private chat with your friends?" asked
Grandfather.
"Not often," answered the chair. "I once talked with Sir William Phips,
and communicated my ideas about the witchcraft delusion. Cotton Mather
had several conversations with me, and derived great benefit from my
historical reminiscences. In the days of the Stamp Act, I whispered in
the ear of Hutchinson, bidding him to remember what stock his countrymen
were descended of, and to think whether the spirit of their forefathers
had utterly departed from them. The last man whom I favored with a
colloquy, was that stout old republican, Samuel Adams."
"And how happens it," inquired Grandfather, "that there is no record nor
tradition of your conversational abilities? It is an uncommon thing to
meet with a chair that can talk."
"Why, to tell you the truth," said the chair, giving itself a hitch
nearer to the hearth, "I am not apt to choose the most suitable moments
for unclosing my lips. Sometimes I have inconsiderately begun to speak,
when my occupant, lolling back in my arms, was inclined to take an
after-dinner nap. Or, perhaps, the impulse to talk may be felt at
midnight, when the lamp burns dim, and the fire crumbles into decay, and
the studious or thoughtful man finds that his brain is in a mist.
Oftenest, I have unwisely uttered my wisdom in the ears of sick persons,
when the inquietude of fever made them toss about, upon my cushion. And
so it happens, that, though my words make a pretty strong impression at
the moment, yet my auditors invariably remember them only as a dream. I
should not wonder if you, my excellent friend, were to do the same,
to-morrow morning."
"Nor I either," thought Grandfather to himself. However, he thanked this
respectable old chair for beginning the conversation, and begged to know
whether it had any thing particular to communicate.
"I have been listening attentively to your narrative of my adventures,"
replied the chair, "and it must be owned, that your correctness entitles
you to be held up as a pattern to biographers. Nevertheless, there are a
few omissions, which I should be glad to see supplied. For instance, you
make no mention of the good knight, Sir Richard Saltonstall, nor of the
famous Hugh Peters, nor of those old regicide judges, Whalley, Goffe,
and Dixwell. Yet I have borne the weight of all these distinguished
characters, at one time or another."
Grandfather promised amendment, if ever he should have an opportunity to
repeat his narrative. The good old chair, which still seemed to retain a
due regard for outward appearance, then reminded him how long a time had
passed, since it had been provided with a new cushion. It likewise
expressed the opinion, that the oaken figures on its back would show to
much better advantage, by the aid of a little varnish.
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