Auriol; or, The Elixir of LifeAinsworth, William Harrison
Science
Auriol; or, The Elixir of Life
Ainsworth, William Harrison
Detective and mystery stories; Gothic fiction; Horror tales; Paranormal fiction
beyond French polish, and his hat was brushed till not a wind dared to
approach it. Sir Lionel wore a white, unstarched cravat, with a thick
pad in it, sported a frill over his waistcoat, carried a black ebony
cane in his hand, and was generally followed by a pet pug-dog, one of
the most sagacious and disagreeable specimens of his species. Sir Lionel
Flamstead, I have said, was tall--I might have said he was very
tall--somewhat narrower across the shoulders than about the hips--a
circumstance which did not materially conduce to his symmetry--with
grey, benevolent eyes, shaded by bushy, intelligent brows--a lofty,
expansive forehead, in which, in the jargon of phrenology, the organs of
locality and ideality were strongly developed, and which was rendered
the more remarkable from the flesh having fallen in on either side of
the temples--with a nose which had been considered handsome and well
proportioned in his youth, but to which good living had imparted a
bottle form and a bottle tint--and cheeks from which all encroachment of
whiskers was sedulously removed, in order, we conclude, that his rosy
complexion might be traced from its point of concentration, upon the
prominent feature before mentioned, to its final disappearance behind
his ears. Such was Sir Lionel Flamstead.
A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE IN ROME
CHAPTER I
SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE
The Pope was saying the high, high mass,
All on Saint Peter's day;
With the power to him given by the saints in heaven
To wash men's sins away.
The Pope he was saying the blessed mass,
And the people kneel'd around;
And from each man's soul his sins did pass,
As he kissed the holy ground.
--_The Grey Brother._
Chancing to be in Rome in the August of 1830, I visited the gorgeous
church of Santa Maria Maggiore during the celebration of the anniversary
of the Holy Assumption.
It was a glorious sight to one unaccustomed to the imposing religious
ceremonials of the Romish Church, to witness all the pomp and splendour
displayed at this high solemnity--to gaze down that glittering pile, and
mark the various ecclesiastical dignitaries, each in their peculiar and
characteristic costume, employed in the ministration of their sacred
functions, and surrounded by a wide semicircle of the papal guards, so
stationed to keep back the crowd, and who, with their showy scarlet
attire and tall halberds, looked like the martial figures we see in the
sketches of Callot. Nor was the brilliant effect of this picture
diminished by the sumptuous framework in which it was set. Overhead
flamed a roof resplendent with burnished gold; before me rose a canopy
supported by pillars of porphyry, and shining with many-coloured stones;
while on either hand were chapels devoted to some noble house, and
boasting each the marble memorial of a pope. Melodious masses proper to
the service were ever and anon chanted by the papal choir, and
overpowering perfume was diffused around by a hundred censers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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