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trial with cloaks over their arms； ready to muffle him。 But； whatever
may be said of Somerset； the prospect of the cloaks would not have
stopped him from attempting those questions。 He had sent word to King
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James that he was ‘‘neither Gowrie nor Balmerino；'' those two earlier
victims of James's treachery。 The thing that muffled him was the threat
to withdraw the promised mercy to his Countess。 And so he kept silent；
to be condemned to death as his wife had been； and to join her in the
Tower。
Five weary years were the couple to eat their hearts out there； their
death sentences remitted； before their ultimate banishment far from the
Court to a life of impoverished obscurity in the country。 Better for them；
one would think； if they had died on Tower Green。 It is hard to imagine
that the dozen years or so which they were to spend together could contain
anything of happiness for themshe the confessed would…be poisoner； and
he haunted by the memory of that betrayal of friendship which had begun
the process of their double ruin。 Frances Howard died in 1632； her
husband twenty…three years later。 The longer lease of life could have
been no blessing to the fallen favourite。
There is a portrait of Frances Howard in the National Portrait Gallery
by an unknown artist。 It is an odd little face which appears above the
elaborate filigree of the stiff lace ruff and under the carefully dressed bush
of dark brown hair。 With her gay jacket of red gold…embroidered； and her
gold…ornamented grey gown； cut low to show the valley between her
young breasts； she looks like a child dressed up。 If there is no great
indication of the beauty which so many poets shed ink over there is less
promise of the dire determination which was to pursue a man's life with
cruel poisons over several months。 It is； however； a narrow little face；
and there is a tight…liddedness about the eyes which in an older woman
might indicate the bigot。 Bigot she proved herself to be； if it be bigotry
in a woman to love a man with an intensity that will not stop at murder in
order to win him。 That is the one thing that may be said for Frances
Howard。 She did love Robert Carr。 She loved him to his ruin。
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IV： A MODEL FOR MR
HOGARTH
On a Sunday； the 5th of February； 1733； there came toddling into that
narrow passage of the Temple known as Tanfield Court an elderly lady by
the name of Mrs Love。 It was just after one o'clock of the afternoon。
The giants of St Dunstan's behind her had only a minute before rapped out
the hour with their clubs。
Mrs Love's business was at once charitable and social。 She was
going； by appointment made on the previous Friday night； to eat dinner
with a frail old lady named Mrs Duncomb； who lived in chambers on the
third floor of one of the buildings that had entry from the court。 Mrs
Duncomb was the widow of a law stationer of the City。 She had been a
widow for a good number of years。 The deceased law stationer； if he had
not left her rich； at least had left her in fairly comfortable circumstances。
It was said about the environs that she had some property； and this fact；
combined with the other that she was obviously nearing the end of life's
journey； made her an object of melancholy interest to the womenkind of
the neighbourhood。
Mrs Duncomb was looked after by a couple of servants。 One of them；
Betty Harrison； had been the old lady's companion for a lifetime。 Mrs
Duncomb； described as ‘‘old；'' was only sixty。＇16＇ Her weakness and
bodily condition seem to have made her appear much older。 Betty； then；
also described as ‘‘old；'' may have been of an age with her mistress； or
even older。 She was； at all events； not by much less frail。 The other
servant was a comparatively new addition to the establishment； a fresh
little girl of about seventeen； Ann （or Nanny） Price by name。
＇16＇ According to one account。 The Newgate Calendar （London
1773） gives Mrs Duncomb's age as eighty and that of the maid Betty as
sixty。
Mrs Love climbed the three flights of stairs to the top landing。 It
surprised her； or disturbed her； but little that she found no signs of life on
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the various floors； because it was； as we have seen； a Sunday。 The
occupants of the chambers of the staircase； mostly gentlemen connected in
one way or another with the law； would be； she knew abroad for the eating
of their Sunday dinners； either at their favourite taverns or at commons in
the Temple itself。 What did rather disturb kindly Mrs Love was the fact
that she found Mrs Duncomb's outer door closedan unwonted factand it
faintly surprised her that no odour of cooking greeted her nostrils。
Mrs Love knocked。 There was no reply。 She knocked； indeed； at
intervals over a period of some fifteen minutes； still obtaining no response。
The disturbed sense of something being wrong became stronger and
stronger in the mind of Mrs Love。
On the night of the previous Friday she had been calling upon Mrs
Duncomb； and she had found the old lady very weak； very nervous； and
very low in spirits。 It had not been a very cheerful visit all round；
because the old maidservant； Betty Harrison； had also been far from well。
There had been a good deal of talk between the old women of dying； a
subject to which their minds had been very prone to revert。 Besides Mrs
Love there were two other visitors； but they too failed to cheer the old
couple up。 One of the visitors； a laundress of the Temple called Mrs
Oliphant； had done her