Maitre Cornelius

Maitre Cornelius

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Maitre Cornelius, by Honore de
Balzac This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Maitre Cornelius
Author: Honore de Balzac
Release Date: February 22, 2005 [EBook #1454]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAITRE
CORNELIUS ***

Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny

MAITRE CORNELIUS
BY
HONORE DE BALZAC

Translated By Katharine Prescott Wormeley

DEDICATION
To Monsieur le Comte Georges Mniszech:
Some envious being may think on seeing this page illustrated by one of

the most illustrious of Sarmatian names, that I am striving, as the
goldsmiths do, to enhance a modern work with an ancient jewel,--a
fancy of the fashions of the day,--but you and a few others, dear count,
will know that I am only seeking to pay my debt to Talent, Memory,
and Friendship.

MAITRE CORNELIUS


CHAPTER I
A CHURCH SCENE OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY
In 1479, on All Saints' day, the moment at which this history begins,
vespers were ending in the cathedral of Tours. The archbishop Helie de
Bourdeilles was rising from his seat to give the benediction himself to
the faithful. The sermon had been long; darkness had fallen during the
service, and in certain parts of the noble church (the towers of which
were not yet finished) the deepest obscurity prevailed. Nevertheless a
goodly number of tapers were burning in honor of the saints on the
triangular candle-trays destined to receive such pious offerings, the
merit and signification of which have never been sufficiently explained.
The lights on each altar and all the candelabra in the choir were burning.
Irregularly shed among a forest of columns and arcades which
supported the three naves of the cathedral, the gleam of these masses of
candles barely lighted the immense building, because the strong
shadows of the columns, projected among the galleries, produced
fantastic forms which increased the darkness that already wrapped in
gloom the arches, the vaulted ceilings, and the lateral chapels, always
sombre, even at mid-day.
The crowd presented effects that were no less picturesque. Certain
figures were so vaguely defined in the "chiaroscuro" that they seemed
like phantoms; whereas others, standing in a full gleam of the scattered
light, attracted attention like the principal heads in a picture. Some
statues seemed animated, some men seemed petrified. Here and there

eyes shone in the flutings of the columns, the floor reflected looks, the
marbles spoke, the vaults re-echoed sighs, the edifice itself seemed
endowed with life.
The existence of Peoples has no more solemn scenes, no moments
more majestic. To mankind in the mass, movement is needed to make it
poetical; but in these hours of religious thought, when human riches
unite themselves with celestial grandeur, incredible sublimities are felt
in the silence; there is fear in the bended knee, hope in the clasping
hands. The concert of feelings in which all souls are rising heavenward
produces an inexplicable phenomenon of spirituality. The mystical
exaltation of the faithful reacts upon each of them; the feebler are no
doubt borne upward by the waves of this ocean of faith and love.
Prayer, a power electrical, draws our nature above itself. This
involuntary union of all wills, equally prostrate on the earth, equally
risen into heaven, contains, no doubt, the secret of the magic influences
wielded by the chants of the priests, the harmonies of the organ, the
perfumes and the pomps of the altar, the voices of the crowd and its
silent contemplations. Consequently, we need not be surprised to see in
the middle-ages so many tender passions begun in churches after long
ecstasies,--passions ending often in little sanctity, and for which
women, as usual, were the ones to do penance. Religious sentiment
certainly had, in those days, an affinity with love; it was either the
motive or the end of it. Love was still a religion, with its fine fanaticism,
its naive superstitions, its sublime devotions, which sympathized with
those of Christianity.
The manners of that period will also serve to explain this alliance
between religion and love. In the first place society had no
meeting-place except before the altar. Lords and vassals, men and
women were equals nowhere else. There alone could lovers see each
other and communicate. The festivals of the Church were the theatre of
former times; the soul of woman was more keenly stirred in a cathedral
than it is at a ball or the opera in our day; and do not strong emotions
invariably bring women back to love? By dint of mingling