His shoes were of polished
black leather with heavy silver buckles, and the whole costume was very
old-fashioned, and such as I had only seen worn at fancy dress balls. On
the foot of the pedestal was the painter's name, "BATTONI pinxit, Romæ,
1750." On the top of the pedestal, and under his left elbow, was a long
roll apparently of music, of which one end, unfolded, hung over the
edge. For some minutes I stood still gazing at this portrait which so much
astonished me, but turned on hearing footsteps in the gallery, and saw
Constance, who had come to seek for me. "Constance," I said, "whose portrait is this? It is a very striking
picture, is it not?" "Yes, it is a splendid painting, though of a very bad man. His name was
Adrian Temple, and he once owned Royston. I do not know much about him,
but I believe he was very wicked and very clever. My mother would be
able to tell you more. It is a picture we none of us like, although so
finely painted; and perhaps because he was always pointed out to me from
childhood as a bad man, I have myself an aversion to it. It is singular
that when the very bright flash of lightning came last night while your
brother John and I were sitting here, it lit this picture with a
dazzling glare that made the figure stand out so strangely as to seem
almost alive. It was just after that I found that John had fainted." The memory was not a pleasant one for either of us and we changed the
subject. "Come," I said, "let us leave the gallery, it is very cold
here." Though I said nothing more at the time, her words had made a great
impression on me. It was so strange that, even with the little she knew
of this Adrian Temple, she should speak at once of his notoriously evil
life, and of her personal dislike to the picture. Remembering what my
brother had said on the previous night, that in the presence of this man
he felt himself brought face to face with some indescribable wickedness,
I could not but be surprised at the coincidence. The whole story seemed
to me now to resemble one of those puzzle pictures or maps which I have
played with as a child, where each bit fits into some other until the
outline is complete. It was as if I were finding the pieces one by one
of a bygone history, and fitting them to one another until some terrible
whole should be gradually built up and stand out in its complete
deformity. Dr. Empson spoke gravely of John's illness, and entertained without
reluctance the proposal of Mrs. Temple, that Dr. Dobie, a celebrated
physician in Derby, should be summoned to a consultation. Dr. Dobie came
more than once, and was at last able to report an amendment in John's
condition, though both the doctors absolutely forbade anyone to visit
him, and said that under the most favourable circumstances a period of
some weeks must elapse before he could be moved. Mrs. Temple invited me to remain at Royston until my brother should be
sufficiently convalescent to be moved; and both she and Constance, while
regretting the cause, were good enough to express themselves pleased
that accident should detain me so long with them. As the reports of the doctors became gradually more favourable, and our
minds were in consequence more free to turn to other subjects, I spoke
to Mrs. Temple one day about the picture, saying that it interested me,
and asking for some particulars as to the life of Adrian Temple. "My dear child," she said, "I had rather that you should not exhibit
any curiosity as to this man, whom I wish that we had not to call an
ancestor. I know little of him myself, and indeed his life was of such
a nature as no woman, much less a young girl, would desire to be well
acquainted with. He was, I believe, a man of remarkable talent, and
spent most of his time between Oxford and Italy, though he visited
Royston occasionally, and built the large hall here, which we use as a
dancing-room. Before he was twenty wild stories were prevalent as to his
licentious life, and by thirty his name was a by-word among sober and
upright people. He had constantly with him at Oxford and on his travels
a boon companion called Jocelyn, who aided him in his wickednesses,
until on one of their Italian tours Jocelyn left him suddenly and became
a Trappist monk. It was currently reported that some wild deed of Adrian
Temple had shocked even him, and so outraged his surviving instincts of
common humanity that he was snatched as a brand from the burning and
enabled to turn back even in the full tide of his wickedness. However
that may be, Adrian went on in his evil course without him, and about
four years after disappeared. He was last heard of in Naples, and it is
believed that he succumbed during a violent outbreak of the plague which
took place in Italy in the autumn of 1752. That is all I shall tell you
of him, and indeed I know little more myself. The only good trait that
has been handed down concerning him is that he was a masterly musician,
performing admirably upon the violin, which he had studied under the
illustrious Tartini himself. Yet even his art of music, if tradition
speaks the truth, was put by him to the basest of uses." I apologised for my indiscretion in asking her about an unpleasant
subject, and at the same time thanked her for what she had seen fit to
tell me, professing myself much interested, as indeed I really was. "Was he a handsome man?" "That is a girl's question," she answered, smiling. "He is said to
have been very handsome; and indeed his picture, painted after his
first youth was past, would still lead one to suppose so. But his
complexion was spoiled, it is said, and turned to deadly white by
certain experiments, which it is neither possible nor seemly for us to
understand. His face is of that long oval shape of which all the Temples
are proud, and he had brown eyes: we sometimes tease Constance, saying
she is like Adrian." It was indeed true, as I remembered after Mrs. Temple had pointed it
out, that Constance had a peculiarly long and oval face. It gave her, I
think, an air of staid and placid beauty, which formed in my eyes, and
perhaps in John's also, one of her greatest attractions. "I do not like even his picture," Mrs. Temple continued, "and strange
tales have been narrated of it by idle servants which are not worth
repeating. I have sometimes thought of destroying it; but my late
husband, being a Temple, would never hear of this, or even of removing
it from its present place in the gallery; and I should be loath to do
anything now contrary to his wishes, once so strongly expressed. It is,
besides, very perfect from an artistic point of view, being painted by
Battoni, and in his happiest manner." I could never glean more from Mrs. Temple; but what she told me
interested me deeply. It seemed another link in the chain, though
I could scarcely tell why, that Adrian Temple should be so great a
musician and violinist.