The History of Henry Esmond | Page 4

of a dark
complexion, with a very great forehead and dark hazel eyes, overhung
by eyebrows which remained black long after his hair was white. His
nose was aquiline, his smile extraordinary sweet. How well I remember
it, and how little any description I can write can recall his image! He
was of rather low stature, not being above five feet seven inches in
height; he used to laugh at my sons, whom he called his crutches, and
say they were grown too tall for him to lean upon. But small as he was,
he had a perfect grace and majesty of deportment, such as I have never
seen in this country, except perhaps in our friend Mr. Washington, and
commanded respect wherever he appeared.
In all bodily exercises he excelled, and showed an extraordinary
quickness and agility. Of fencing he was especially fond, and made my
two boys proficient in that art; so much so, that when the French came
to this country with Monsieur Rochambeau, not one of his officers was
superior to my Henry, and he was not the equal of my poor George,
who had taken the King's side in our lamentable but glorious war of
independence.
Neither my father nor my mother ever wore powder in their hair; both
their heads were as white as silver, as I can remember them. My dear

mother possessed to the last an extraordinary brightness and freshness
of complexion; nor would people believe that she did not wear rouge.
At sixty years of age she still looked young, and was quite agile. It was
not until after that dreadful siege of our house by the Indians, which left
me a widow ere I was a mother, that my dear mother's health broke.
She never recovered her terror and anxiety of those days which ended
so fatally for me, then a bride scarce six months married, and died in
my father's arms ere my own year of widowhood was over.
From that day, until the last of his dear and honored life, it was my
delight and consolation to remain with him as his comforter and
companion; and from those little notes which my mother hath made
here and there in the volume in which my father describes his
adventures in Europe, I can well understand the extreme devotion with
which she regarded him--a devotion so passionate and exclusive as to
prevent her, I think, from loving any other person except with an
inferior regard; her whole thoughts being centred on this one object of
affection and worship. I know that, before her, my dear father did not
show the love which he had for his daughter; and in her last and most
sacred moments, this dear and tender parent owned to me her
repentance that she had not loved me enough: her jealousy even that
my father should give his affection to any but herself: and in the most
fond and beautiful words of affection and admonition, she bade me
never to leave him, and to supply the place which she was quitting.
With a clear conscience, and a heart inexpressibly thankful, I think I
can say that I fulfilled those dying commands, and that until his last
hour my dearest father never had to complain that his daughter's love
and fidelity failed him.
And it is since I knew him entirely--for during my mother's life he
never quite opened himself to me--since I knew the value and splendor
of that affection which he bestowed upon me, that I have come to
understand and pardon what, I own, used to anger me in my mother's
lifetime, her jealousy respecting her husband's love. 'Twas a gift so
precious, that no wonder she who had it was for keeping it all, and
could part with none of it, even to her daughter.
Though I never heard my father use a rough word, 'twas extraordinary
with how much awe his people regarded him; and the servants on our
plantation, both those assigned from England and the purchased

negroes, obeyed him with an eagerness such as the most severe
taskmasters round about us could never get from their people. He was
never familiar, though perfectly simple and natural; he was the same
with the meanest man as with the greatest, and as courteous to a black
slave-girl as to the Governor's wife. No one ever thought of taking a
liberty with him (except once a tipsy gentleman from York, and I am
bound to own that my papa never forgave him): he set the humblest
people at once on their ease with him, and brought down the most
arrogant by a grave satiric way, which made persons exceedingly afraid
of him. His courtesy was not put on like a Sunday suit, and laid by
when