The Seven Chairs

The Seven Chairs

Alphonso Mazzai made furniture. Not just any furniture: he made magic furniture. Alphonso lived in a small village north of Florence in Italy. The name of it is not important, neither is how Alphonso acquired his magic. That is a different story altogether. What this tale concerns itself with is the story of the seven chairs.

Alphonso spent several days selecting the wood for the chairs. He looked specifically at the grains of the wood. To many knots and he passed them by, too close together and he also walked past. The grains of the wood had to be just perfect for the magic he wanted to perform. While selecting the wood for his chairs he stayed at a small in by the market square where he sells his furniture. The owners knew him and gave him a special rate. He liked staying in Florence but he knew that he needed to get back to his village as well . The next day he selected several pieces of timber and placed them on his donkeys back and started the walk back to his workshop.

The next several days Alphonso spent carving and planing the wood. Shaping the seat area just right for a perfect fit of the buttocks. He carved joints into the wood. And glued pieces together. \he made wooden nails that he set in place on the joints to make them stronger. Once all seven chairs were created he stood back and admired them. He brushed the wood shavings and dust from his clothes and walked out the workshop closed the door and did not return to the chairs for another three days. The chairs sat in silence for those days. The wood had to get used to being manipulated into the strange shape that it had become. Last year the wood was standing strong and tall in a grove in the north west part of Italy. Since that time it had been chopped down stripped of its skin and sliced into straight flat pieces of timber. It sat like that until Alphonso came and manipulated and cut it up even more into the shape of seven chairs. To allow the wood to get used to this before moving on Alphonso let his furniture sit and get used to being furniture for three days.

On the day of reentering the workshop Alphonso had cleansed himself and new the chairs were being cleansed as well. The sanding process would take several more days to complete. Firs, each of the seven chairs would get a course sanding. This got rid of any of the rough imperfections. The marks left by the tools that Alphonso used to create the details of the chair. The markings on the legs and spindles left by being turned on the lathe. The second sanding was with a finer and smoother paper. This created a soft touch to the chair. This sanding also cleaned up the details and made the edges of the leaf work stand crisp and sharp. The last sanding was the gentle yet firm pressure applied with the touch of Alphonso's own hands. His hands were aged and wrinkled and callused. His hands would run all over the wood this final step he did with all his furniture. It was the start of the magic.

After each sanding Alphonso would blow of the sawdust that had accumulated on the piece of furniture. He would blow gently and occasionally small drops of spit would fly out of his mouth and landing on the wood causing it to change colour from the pale yellow cream colour to a dark yellow tone. While he was sanding the third time the blows to rid the chairs of the sawdust was also laced with incantations. Strange cabalic words from ancient manuscripts and dead civilizations. With all the sawdust removed from the chairs and the first set of chants on the chairs, Alphonso cleaned up the shop. When he was satisfied the all the dust had gone form the workshop Alphonso closed up the door and for three days he did not enter. The moon rose over the open filed that was behind his house. In three days time the moon would be full and he could begin to varnish the chairs. But for now he rested, tomorrow he would be in the fields working on his barley crop.

Each day for seven days Alphonso added layer after layer of varnish. Seven days for seven chairs. Each chairs received a coat and a prayer form the ancient language sealing the words into the grains and the wood and the varnish. At the end of each day he would close up the shop like a tomb. Making sure no particle of dust or fly or spider would be able to enter and blemish the coat of the day. On the seventh day the seven chairs received their final coat and their whisper of magic. Then, once again as he did on the previous days he sealed up the shop. This time, however, he sealed it up for seven days. This was so the prayers and chantings and incantations could sink deep into the wood, deep into the grains of each chair.

This time was spent by Alphonso working in his fields or fixing the jobs around the house that he always seemed to neglect; the squeaky door, the loose floor board in the bedroom, the lower half of the kitchen door. All these items kept his mind and his hands occupied and allowed the chairs to settle into themselves without his thoughts getting in the way. One one occasion he walked past the workshop and looked into the window. The seven chairs stood in a row looking proud and majestic. The sun that entered through the window showed a stream of dust that floated around the room like the stars in the universe. Alphonso looked at them in disgust and wished them away. He closed his eyes and said several words under his breath. Upon opening his eyes and looking back in the room the dust had disappeared and the air was clean again. The remaining days at noon he came to the window and performed the prayer and cleared the room of any dust that might cause imperfections in the finish on the chairs. On the seventh day he rested.

Early the next morning Alphonso rose from bed and by lamplight he went to the barn first and woke up his donkey and brought him over to the workshop. He opened the door and walked inside. The small of the varnish filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply. He looked at his chairs and decided that they were ready to be taken to market. One at a time he placed the seven chairs on his donkey's back. Soft fabric was placed between the chairs so they would not rub together. A single piece of cord wrapped around and through the legs and backs of each chair carefully so that they would not fall off during the journey to Florence to be sold in the market square where Alphonso had a stall.

The journey, at first was slow but as the sun moved slowly above the hills the ruts and rocks that Alphonso knew so well in the round became more clear to his sight and he did not have to rely wholly on instinct. He stopped and rested at a stone bridge that crossed a stream. Alphonso took a drink from it and so did his donkey. He sat on the wall of the bridge and rubbed his feet before continuing on his journey.

Once he arrived to the city he had a short distance through narrow streets and a small alley way to the market. His stall was near the hotel that he stayed at while collecting the wood. The market had around fifty stalls in total. Here, someone could buy anything from spices and fruits, to rugs, fabrics and other items for the house to hand carved magical chairs. Alphonso quickly set up his small space. The seven chairs were not the only items he had to sell. Inside a small room behind his stall were other items that did not sell from previous days. A small table, bowls stools and some wooden spoons all needed arranging to make them sellable. The chairs were set up back to back in a rectangle of six, while the last of the chairs was placed at the end also facing out. It reminded Alphonso of his childhood games where his Ompa would play the fiddle while his friends brothers and sister would walk around chairs and when the fiddle stopped each child had to find a seat. The other items he placed around the display of chairs.

Alphonso took his position under the canopy he set up above the door that led to the small room. He looked inside and once again thought that he could make a small cot for the space and save some money instead of going to the inn every time he came to Florence. He pulled out a small stool and sat down and waited.

Slow;y customers came into the market. They passed Alphonso without even looking but he knew that they did not come to the market for furniture but for spices and meats to see them through the day. The bread stall was always busy as well in the morning. By noon Alphonso would have a customer, so he waited patiently.

A couple wandered out f the hotel, arm in arm and laughing with each other. Obviously in love, thought Alphonso. They were french and newlyweds. The young lady sat on the chair closest to her and beckoned her new husband to also sit. He did. They said they would be nice in the dining room where they now have mismatched chairs. Alphonso let them talk without interruption. In the end they concluded they did not know how to get them back to France and walked away. That's alright, thought Alphonso, he did not want them to have any of the chairs anyways.

The first chair to sell was to a women who needed it for her son's writing desk. “this is the perfect size,” she said to Alphonso. “And the wood is beautiful. You are quite the craftsman, Senior.” Alphonso replied, “Thank you.” and he smiled to himself. “I am sure your son will write many great and important things from sitting at his desk with this chair and you for support. I cn tell you love your son very, very much.” This chair will work well for her and her son, he thought. She gave him the money and she walked away with a chair. Both Alphonso and the woman were happy and satisfied.

Chairs number two and three were sold to man who was replacing his chairs from his bistro table that stood on his small kitchen balcony. He commented about the design being a perfect match for his table.

“My wife and I will sit on these chairs and share morning coffee and conversations in the morning and we shall sit and enjoy wine and secrets in the evening.” The man said as he took out payment for the chairs.

“And you shall grow old together with these chairs.” Said Alphonso. So, chairs two and three made the journey from Florence to Rome.

Alphonso rearranged the chairs into a straight row and went back under the canopy. A tourist came and bought the spoons. Alphonso wrapped them in paper advising the lady to rinse them first with spring water on the full. “That is in three days time.” He added. The lady looked strangely at him and agreed. She walked away looking at other items in the market and occasionally over her shoulder back at Alphonso.

The fourth chair was sold and now sits in the front hallway of a brownstone house near Washington Square in New York City. “If my children are going to sit and be punished, they will be sitting on quality handcrafted furniture. Only the best.” Said the American. Alphonso accepted the extra money from the American and also took the address in New York where to ship it to. He tied the address to the chair and placed it in the small room. He promised that it would arrive safely to his home. The American thanked him again and gave him some extra money on top of what was already given.

“Thank you.” Alphonso said. “This will make your child's punishment more bearable for them and will make them think about disobeying again.” He added. They shook hands because that is what Americans do. Shake hands when a deal has been made.

Alphonso sat under the shade of the canopy protecting him from the afternoon sun. It was time to close up for the afternoon and have a siesta. The sun is too much for people to shop or work so for two hours a day the city of Florence closes and reopens when the air is cooler and the sun further in the west. He stretched as he got up from his stool and went to collect his wears. He started with the chairs. Taking two of them he walked them over to the small room and placed them inside. He turned to collect the other chair but a priest from France was inspecting it. He went to the small table and placed it inside.

Alphonso walked back out into the sunlight and even he began to notice the finish and the grain of the chair. He was proud of these pieces.

“I'll take it,” the priest said. Alphonso did not ask any questions or make any response. He just knew this was the right thing to do. That is how the fifth one ended up in France.

The priest departed with the chair slung over his shoulder resting on his back. He took it to the station and put it in holding until he had finished his tour. He made sure that it had special care on the train. It had a secire spot in the luggage hold. In Paris the priest and the chair transferred to another train which took them to the cathedral in Lyons.

Upon entering the cathedral the priest crossed himself with the holy water and bent down and said a small prayer. He then proceeded to the confession boxes on the far side of the nave. It was a perfect time to make the switch because he knew the booths were not open to public confession at this hour. Opening the door to the side where the parishioners confessed he took out the old tattered chair and replaced it with the one that Alphonso had handcrafted. He looked at the old chair;it appeared tired and sad and full of sin. Weighed down from all the burdened souls that it held while they were asking their God for forgiveness. It needed to rest. The wicker was tattered and and falling apart with the weight of the souls trying to seek forgiveness week after week, month after month. Some came once a year and confessed all their sins and shortcomings. Others came every week seeking repentance for the same sin committed over and over again. They would cross themselves and take out the rosary and pray to Mary for forgiveness. It made them feel good inside until the temptation came again they succumbed to it and then they were drawn into the confession box again seeking for the same forgiveness. The chair needed the rest. The priest picked it up and walked to the back of the cathedral and placed it in a dark room waiting to be placed in the garbage. The old chair was relieved of its duty.

Days passed and parishioners entered the box and left. Some commented on the new chair while other said their piece and quickly moved to the pews to get the prayers finished so they could go home to their dinners.

Sister Mary Bernadette, a new sister to the convent entered into the box on an evening after the locals had all gone home. The cathedral stood silent. She sat on the chair, closed the door and pulled the heavy velvet curtain open ready to confess to the priest. She crossed herself and quietly, meekly she spoke, “Forgive me father for I have sinned.”

“What is it, sister, tell me and I will help,” the father replied.

Sister Mary Bernadette sat silently and began to quiver. Her emotions took over and she cried. The father sat waiting on the other side of the screen. These outbursts were not too common but they did happen and the priest usually just waited them out.

“Shhh, child.” the father said. “Try and calm yourself down. Take deep breaths and relax. When your ready.” He leaned back on his chair and waited.

The young nun took a deep breath, wiped her eyes dry and discreetly wiped her nose with a white cotton handkerchief she pulled from the sleeve of her blue cardigan. She folded it neatly and placed back in its hiding place. She took another deep breath and placed her hands on her lap and began to pour out her soul. The pain that weighed down her heart was lifted with every word, every syllable. The father listened; the angels recorded and the chair that Mary Bernadette sat on soaked in all that she uttered. The incantations that Alphonso placed in the chair began to stir within the grains of the wood. Mary changed her confessions to prayers. The priest on the other side of the wicker wall repeated, “yes child.” and I see.” Oblivious to the real outpouring that was occurring.

The chair began to rise. The nun noticed her levitated state stopped praying and gave a gasp. She wanted to step off but she felt frozen to the chair. A voice from deep within her spoke to her soul.

It said, “Be still.” It was not a loud voice nor a harsh voice. Instead it was a still comforting voice. A small voice. It spoke again, “Be still and know that I am. This day you have cried unto me like no other woman has ever cried unto me before. Thy sins are forgiven thee.” Mary Bernadette listened with her heart fully open and her mind ready and willing to take in all that the voice was offering. “This day I will show you many things. You must tell all those who have ears to hear and hearts to understand. Those that are willing to listen let them listen.”

Mary Bernadette sat still with her hands still resting on her lap. The chair rose slightly again and Mary lowered her head in fear of hitting it. The door opened and the chair along with the nun still seated on it left the confession box. She rose up into the heights of the cathedral. The clerestory windows went by casting sparkling jewels on her as she floated by them down the length of the nave. She was at peace and felt love and warmth surround her.

Those people that saw the floating nun that day spoke of it where ever they went. In the shops and bars along the streets and in the markets. The cardinals in Rome eventually came to investigate. They spoke with Mary Bernadette who answered with a soft spoken tongue. They spoke to the priest who heard the confession but did not see anything until after the incident. He was no help to the cardinals. They spoke to the witnesses who were praying in the cathedral that day and the two deacons who stood watching as the miracle took place.

“She stopped at the cross section and a mist came and encircled her.” Said one.

“I think it was more like a cloud, deacon Denis, “ said the other. Deacon Denis looked at his partner and shook his head.

The light from the rose window grew brighter and brighter. It changed colours from the reds and greens and yellows and blue that normally shine through to a clear bright white.” He continued.

“It blinded me,” Deacon John said. “I had to turn my head and block my eyes.”

“And then she was gone. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Father John said, “poof,” and spread his fingers wide and moved them away from his face.

“Then, about ten minutes later, we found her again in the confession box, sitting on the chair.”

“We didn't know where she was for ten minutes. We searched but could not find her. But how do you start looking for someone who vanishes from fifty, sixty feet above you. She went into thin air. Poof” Deacon John added.

Mary Bernadette never spoke openly about the experience. Those that sought her out and asked her earnestly received answers. She did not go into the confession box again. Some say it was because she feared to sit in the chair again while others say the Mary Bernadette became perfected that day. A saint living among us.

Alphonso eventually sold the remaining two other chairs. They went to a man and his wifeliving in Florence.