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The Mansion


by Henry van Dyke







There was an air of calm and reserved opulence about 

the Weightman mansion that spoke not of money squandered; 

but of wealth prudently applied。  Standing on a corner of 

the Avenue no longer fashionable for residence; it looked upon 

the swelling tide of business with an expression of complacency 

and half…disdain。



The house was not beautiful。  There was nothing in its straight

front of 

chocolate…colored stone; its heavy cornices; its broad; staring

windows of 

plate glass; its carved and bronze…bedecked mahogany doors at the

top of the wide stoop; to charm the eye or fascinate the

imagination。  

But it was eminently respectable; and in its way imposing。  

It seemed to say that the glittering shops of the jewelers; the

milliners; 

the confectioners; the florists; the picture…dealers; the

furriers; 

the makers of rare and costly antiquities; retail traders in 

luxuries of life; were beneath the notice of a house that had its



foundations in the high finance; and was built literally and

figuratively 

in the shadow of St。 Petronius' Church。



At the same time there was something self…pleased and

congratulatory in 

the way in which the mansion held its own amid the changing

neighborhood。  

It almost seemed to be lifted up a little; among the tall

buildings 

near at hand; as if it felt the rising value of the land on which

it stood。



John Weightman was like the house into which he had built himself



thirty years ago; and in which his ideals and ambitions were

incrusted。  

He was a self…made man。  But in making himself he had chosen a 

highly esteemed pattern and worked according to the approved

rules。  

There was nothing irregular; questionable; flamboyant about him。 



He was solid; correct; and justly successful。



His minor tastes; of course; had been carefully kept up to date。 



At the proper time; pictures of the Barbizon masters; old English



plate and portraits; bronzes by Barye and marbles by Rodin;

Persian carpets



and Chinese porcelains; had been introduced to the mansion。  

It contained a Louis Quinze reception…room; an Empire

drawing…room; 

a Jacobean dining…room; and various apartments dimly reminiscent

of 

the styles of furniture affected by deceased monarchs。  That the

hallways 

were too short for the historic perspective did not make much

difference。  

American decorative art is capable de tout; it absorbs all

periods。  

Of each period Mr。 Weightman wished to have something of the

best。  

He understood its value; present as a certificate; and

prospective as 

an investment。



It was only in the architecture of his town house that he 

remained conservative; immovable; one might almost say 

Early…Victorian…Christian。  His country house at

Dulwich…on…the…Sound 

was a palace of the Italian Renaissance。  But in town 

he adhered to an architecture which had moral associations; 

the Nineteenth…Century…Brownstone epoch。  It was a symbol of 

his social position; his religious doctrine; and even; in a way; 

of his business creed。



〃A man of fixed principles;〃 he would say; 〃should express them

in 

the looks of his house。  New York changes its domestic

architecture 

too rapidly。  It is like divorce。  It is not dignified。  I don't

like it。  

Extravagance and fickleness are advertised in most of these new

houses。  

I wish to be known for different qualities。  Dignity and prudence

are 

the things that people trust。  Every one knows that I can afford

to 

live in the house that suits me。  It is a guarantee to the

public。  

It inspires confidence。  It helps my influence。  There is a text

in 

the Bible about 'a house that hath foundations。' That is the

proper kind of

a mansion for a solid man。〃



Harold Weightman had often listened to his father discoursing in 

this fashion on the fundamental principles of life; and always

with 

a divided mind。  He admired immensely his father's talents 

and the single…minded energy with which he improved them。  

But in the paternal philosophy there was something that

disquieted 

and oppressed the young man; and made him gasp inwardly for fresh

air 

and free action。



At times; during his college course and his years at the law

school; 

he had yielded to this impulse and broken awaynow toward

extravagance 

and dissipation; and then; when the reaction came; toward a

romantic 

devotion to work among the poor。  He had felt his father's

disapproval 

for both of these forms of imprudence; but is was never expressed

in 

a harsh or violent way; always with a certain tolerant patience; 

such as one might show for the mistakes and vagaries of the very

young。  

John Weightman was not hasty; impulsive; inconsiderate; even

toward his 

own children。  With them; as with the rest of the world; he felt

that he 

had a reputation to maintain; a theory to vindicate。  He could

afford to 

give them time to see that he was absolutely right。



One of his favorite Scripture quotations was; 〃Wait on the Lord。〃 



He had applied it to real estate and to people; with profitable

results。



But to human persons the sensation of being waited for is not 

always agreeable。  Sometimes; especially with the young; it

produces 

a vague restlessness; a dumb resentment; which is increased by 

the fact that one can hardly explain or justify it。  Of this 

John Weightman was not conscious。  It lay beyond his horizon。  

He did not take it into account in the plan of life which he made

for 

himself and for his family as the sharers and inheritors of his

success。



〃Father plays us;〃 said Harold; in a moment of irritation; to his

mother; 

〃like pieces in a game of chess。



〃My dear;〃 said that lady; whose faith in her husband was

religious; 

〃you ought not to speak so impatiently。  At least he wins the

game。  

He is one of the most respected men in New York。  And he is 

very generous; too。〃



〃I wish he would be more generous in letting us be ourselves;〃 

said the young man。  〃He always has something in view for us 

and expects to move us up to it。〃



〃But isn't it always for our benefit?〃 replied his mother。  

〃Look what a position we have。  No one can say there is any taint

on 

our money。  There are no rumors about your father。  He has kept 

the laws of God and of man。  He has never made any mistakes。〃  

Harold got up from his chair and poked the fire。  Then he came

back to 

the ample; well…gowned; firm…looking lady; and sat beside her on

the sofa。 

He took her hand gently and looked at the two ringsa thin band

of 

yellow gold; and a small solitaire diamondwhich kept their

place on 

her third finger in modest dignity; as if not shamed; but rather

justified;

by the splendor of the emerald which glittered beside them。



〃Mother;〃 he said; 〃you have a wonderful hand。  And father made

no mistake 

when he won you。  But are you sure he has always been so

inerrant?〃



〃Harold;〃 she exclaimed; a little stiffly; 〃what do you mean?  

His life is an open book。〃



〃Oh;〃 he answered; 〃I don't mean anything bad; mother dear。  

I know the governor's life is an open booka ledger; if you

like; 

kept in the best bookkeeping hand; and always ready for 

inspectionevery page correct; and showing a handsome balance。  

But isn't it a mistake not to allow us to make our own mistakes; 

to learn for ourselves; to live our own lives?  Must we be 

always working for 'the balance;' in one thing or another?  

I want to be myselfto get outside of this everlasting; 

profitable 'plan'to let myself go; and lose myself for a while 

at leastto do the things that I want to do; just because 

I want to do them。〃



〃My boy;〃 said his mother; anxiously; 〃you are not going to do

anything 

wrong or foolish?  You know the falsehood of that old proverb

about

wild oats。〃



He threw back his head and laughed。  〃Yes; mother;〃 he answered; 

〃I know it well enough。  But in California; you know; the wild

oats are 

one of the most valuable crops。  They grow all over the hillsides

and 

keep the cattle and the horses alive。  But that wasn't what I

meantto sow

wild oats。  Say to pick wild flowers; if you like; or even to

chase 

wild geeseto do something that seems good to me just for its

own sake; 

not for the sake of wages of one kind or another。  I feel like a

hired man;

in the service of this magnificent mansionsay in training for 

father's place as majordomo。  I'd like to get out some way; 

to feel freeperhaps to do something for others。〃



The young man's voice hesitated a little。  〃Yes; it sound like

cant; 

I know; but sometimes I feel as if I'd like to do some good in

the world;

if father only wouldn't insist upon God's putting it into the

ledger。〃



His mother moved uneasily; and a

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