heir house in
Gloucester Place, which he shamefully allowed to fall upon her. In
despair and revengeful rage the discarded mistress sought the eager
enemies whom the duke's careless neglect had sown round him, and the
scandal broke forth. The Prince of Wales, who was as fond of his brother
as he could be of any one, was greatly vexed at the exposure, and sent
Lord Moira to buy up the correspondence from the Radical bookseller, Sir
Richard Phillips, who had advanced money upon it, and was glorying in
the escapade.

Mr. Timbs informs us that Sir Richard Phillips, used to narrate the
strange and mysterious story of the real secret cause of the Duke of
York scandal. The exposure originated in the resentment of one M'Callum
against Sir Thomas Picton, who, as Governor of Trinidad, had, among
other arbitrary acts, imprisoned M'Callum in an underground dungeon. On
getting to England he sought justice; but, finding himself baffled, he
first published his travels in Trinidad, to expose Picton; then ferreted
out charges against the War Office, and at last, through Colonel Wardle,
brought forward the notorious great-coat contract. This being negatived
by a Ministerial majority, he then traced Mrs. Clark, and arranged the
whole of the exposure for Wardle and others. To effect this in the teeth
of power, though destitute of resources, he wrought night and day for
months. He lodged in a garret in Hungerford Market, and often did not
taste food for twenty-four hours. He lived to see the Duke of York
dismissed from office, had time to publish a short narrative, then died
of exhaustion and want.

An eye-witness of Mrs. Clark's behaviour at the bar of the House of
Commons pronounced her replies as full of sharpness against the more
insolent of her adversaries, but her bearing is described as being "full
of grace." Mr. Redding, who had read twenty or thirty of this lady's
letters, tells us that they showed a good education in the writer.

A writer who was present during her examination before the House of
Commons, has pleasantly described the singular scene. "I was," he says,
"in the House of Commons when Mary Anne Clark first made her appearance
at the bar, dressed in her light-blue pelisse, light muff and tippet.
She was a pretty woman, rather of a slender make. It was debated whether
she should have a chair; this occasioned a hubbub, and she was asked who
the person with her deeply veiled was. She replied that she was her
friend. The