"Eliza has written; and the men of her nation, whose works have been
the most abounding in elegance and taste, would not have disavowed the
small number of pages she has left behind her.
"When I saw Eliza, I experienced a sensation unknown to me. It was too
warm to be no more than friendship; it was too pure to be love. Had it
been a passion, Eliza would have pitied me; she would have endeavoured
to bring me back to my reason, and I should have completely lost it.
"Eliza used frequently to say, that she had a greater esteem for me
than any one else. At present I may believe it.
"In her last moments Eliza's thoughts were fixed upon her friend; and
I cannot write a line without having before me the monument she has
left me. Oh! that she could also have endowed my pen with her graces
and her virtue!--Methinks, at least, I hear her say--'That stern muse
that looks at you, is History, whose awful duty it is to determine the
opinion of posterity. That fickle deity that hovers o'er the globe, is
Fame, who condescended to entertain us a moment about you; she brought
me thy works, and paved the way for our connection by esteem. Behold
that phoenix immortal amidst the flames: it is the symbol of Genius,
which never dies. Let these emblems perpetually incite thee to shew
thyself the defender of _humanity_, of _truth_, and of _liberty_.'
"Eliza, from the highest Heaven, thy first, and last country, receive
my oath: "_I swear not to write one line in which thy friend may not
be recognised_.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25