persons otherwise intelligent, that, in their opinion, to talk of the depreciation of the currency, must be nonsense; for that they are unable to comprehend how a pound-note at one time can differ from a pound-note at another; that a pound-note must be a pound-note always; and that it is impossible the same piece of paper, with the same characters marked upon it, can be more valuable at one time than at another. When, above all, the famous resolution of 1811 is recollected, I think it will be perfectly excusable for me, even in this assembly, said to be so enlightened, to set out with the mathematical axiom, that 'a part is less than the whole ;'— an axiom which, now that the late chancellor of the exchequer * is no longer among us, I apprehend no one will be found hardy enough to dispute. In mentioning that extraordinary person, I must lament my inability to do justice to the merits of so great a master of reasoning and eloquence; who so confounded the philosophers of 1811, by unfolding to his admiring audience, that the old favourite axiom of Euclid was nothing but a popular delusion; that, in reality, a part might be easily equal to the whole; and, therefore, that there was no reason for doubting that the pound-note which required the assistance of eight shillings to procure a guinea, was equal to the pound-note which required the assistance of but a single shilling, of precisely the same value with those of which eight had become necessary!"

The noble marquis then entered into an elaborate argument in support of the proposition before the house, in the course of which he rendered it abundantly evident that he had inquired and thought very deeply on the subject. His speech elicited general admiration, and he was particularly complimented upon it by the late Mr. Ricardo, although that gentleman was decidedly hostile to the motion.

The disorder which unhappily deprived his country of a young statesman of such fair promise was an abscess in the brain, the acute suffering of which he bore with manly for

titude. His decease took place at Portland House, in St. James' Square, on the 5th of March, 1824. On the 13th his remains were interred in a vault formerly belonging to the family of Faucet, (anciently lords of Mary-le-bone) in the old parish church; where, also, the late Duke and Duchess of Portland, and several branches of the families of Coates, Greville, and Bentinck, have been likewise buried. The funeral procession was solemn, and appropriate to the station of the deceased. The hearse was drawn by six horses, and the coffin splendidly covered with crimson velvet and gilt nails. On a gold plate were the arms, coronet, and supporters. In the first coach were Lords William and Frederic Bentinck, and the Right Honourable George Canning, his uncles, who attended as chief mourners, followed by other relations and friends in a numerous train of carriages.

If, in all the relations of private life, a strictly moral and honourable conduct; if, in public life, a pure disinterested patriotism, and an ardent attachment to English liberty, are just claims to respect and honour, then has the Marquis of Titchfield descended to the grave amply deserving the sincere though unavailing sorrow with which his loss has been contemplated by thousands of his fellow-countrymen,

127

No. VIII.

MRS. SOPHIA LEE.

THE biographical account of an individual so much attached to domestic duties as the lady who is our present subject must, of necessity, be rather the history of her literary career than that of her private life. The close of the last century and the beginning of this have been, indeed, fertile in female authors, justly esteemed in both points of view. Of these many still remain to us; some are lost. It is our melancholy, but we hope meritorious, office to commemorate the latter.

Sophia Lee was born in London, May 1750; her mother (whose family were engaged in the wine trade) though of Scotch parentage, was a native of Oporto. Her father, Mr. Lee, was among the many young men of his day who had been allured to the stage by the talents and celebrity of Garrick, and was said greatly to resemble him in features and voice. Being a man of considerable acquirements* and of unblemished moral character, he was strictly attentive to the education of his children; the more so, as that care early devolved upon him by the loss of his wife. It was, however, most affectionately lightened by his eldest daughter, Sophia, who, after attending her mother through a lingering illness, undertook the arduous office of supplying her place to the younger branches of the family. She had begun, even at that period, however, to indulge a secret passion for writing, which a trifling circumstance unexpectedly betrayed.

It happened that Dr. Elliot, afterwards Sir John, who at

* Mr. Lee received his education at Merchant Taylors', but not being in cireumstances to follow it up at the university was afterwards articled to an eminent

tended Mrs. Lee, was not duly furnished with a sheet of paper, on which to write his prescription. The young nurse hastily opened a small trunk, in which all her hidden treasures were deposited, and its contents caught the eye of the doctor. "You seem to have a vary voluminous work there, my dear," observed he, in his Scotch accent, and with a smile. She hesitated, returned some confused answer, and then ventured to add, in the overflowing of a heart grateful for his attention to her mother, "If I ever should write a book, doctor, I will dedicate it to you." An engagement that was fulfilled many years after. "The Recess" was inscribed to Sir John Elliot, in terms characteristic of the sensibility of the author, at a time when, far from expecting such a tribute, he must have totally forgotten the promise,-a a promise probably, indeed, never remembered; the compliment was acknowledged by him, however, in a very flattering letter.

The work which had thus attracted observation, although her first essay in writing, was among the latest of her publications. Its original title was "Cecilia," a name to which she was very partial, and afterwards brought forward in the Chapter of Accidents;" but, as it had since that time been distinguished by the pen of Miss Burney, Miss Lee, contrary to the simplicity of her first intention, called her own novel "The Life of a Lover."

This work, with much of the alloy which belongs to youth and inexperience, is, nevertheless, remarkable for richness of mind, and happiness of expression. It contains, also, many acute observations upon life and character, such as would excite wonder, when the age and circumstances of the writer are considered, did we not daily see that there is an instinctive penetration in genius that foreruns experience, and seems almost to supply its place.

This" voluminous production," which Sir John Elliot had noticed, and such by degrees it really became (as she often retouched it) was not the only one that employed the fancy of the author. The comedy of "The Chapter of Accidents" was not long after sketched out, in the midst of narrow circum

stances, domestic cares, and even some little discouragement; for Mr. Lee, whose first wish was that his daughters should prove rational and useful members of society, was not without his fears of literary pretension unsupported by real talent; and had also a secret persuasion, that if talent really existed it would force its way without the hot-bed of paternal partiality.

In the summer of 1780, Miss Lee at length ventured to appear as an author. The comedy of "The Chapter of Accidents," which had been accepted by the elder Mr. Colman, with a warmth of approbation the more flattering as it came from a man of approved dramatic genius, was produced at the Haymarket theatre. It was highly applauded, admirably performed, and placed the writer at once among the most successful candidates for public favour. This success Mr. Lee just lived to witness. In February 1781 he died of an inflammatory complaint, after an illness of ten days only; an affliction quite unexpected by his family, as he was not much advanced in life, and had an excellent constitution. The prudence of his eldest daughter had, however, only a few months before, provided her sisters an asylum, by devoting the profits of "The Chapter of Accidents" towards an establishment at Bath for educating young ladies; and that prudence was rewarded by rapid and permanent success. The pen, therefore, became unavoidably only an employment for her leisure hours, but it continued to be her greatest pleasure.

Miss Lee had always a very retentive memory, particularly for whatever touched her imagination or her feelings. While a mere child she happened to have visited Winchester; the monastic institutions and historical interest attached to that spot, and its vicinity St. Cross, although very imperfectly known to or understood by her, retained a place in her recollection many years after. Brooding over that, and accidentally perusing Hurd's Dialogues, she imaged to herself the possibility of framing a story that might blend historical characters with fictitious events, and both with picturesque scenery. The brilliant court of Elizabeth struck her to be the suitable