Other editions of book Sons of the Soil

SONS OF THE SOILBy Honore De BalzacTranslated by Katharine Prescott WormeleyDEDICATIONTo Monsieur P. S. B. Gavault.Jean Jacques Rousseau wrote these words at the beginning of his Nouvelle Heloise: "I have seen the morals of my time and I publish these letters." May I not say to you, in imitation of that great writer, "I have studied the march of my epoch and I publish this work"?The object of this particular study startling in its truth so long as society makes philanthropy a principle instead of regarding it as an accident is to bring to sight the leading characters of a class too long unheeded by the pens of writers who seek novelty as their chief object. Perhaps this forgetfulness is only prudence in these days when the people are heirs of all the sycophants of royalty. We make criminals poetic, we commiserate the hangman, we have all but deified the proletary. Sects have risen, and cried by every pen, "Arise, working men!" just as formerly they cried, "Arise!" to the "tiers etat." None of these Erostrates, however, have dared to face the country solitudes and study the unceasing conspiracy of those whom we term weak against those others who fancy themselves strong, that of the peasant against the proprietor. It is necessary to enlighten not only the legislator of to day but him of to morrow. In the midst of the present democratic ferment, into which so many of our writers blindly rush, it becomes an urgent duty to exhibit the peasant who renders Law inapplicable, and who has made the ownership of land to be a thing that is, and that is not.You are now to behold that indefatigable mole, that rodent which undermines and disintegrates the soil, parcels it out and divides an acre into a hundred fragments, ever spurred on to his banquet by the lower middle classes who make him at once their auxiliary and their prey. This essentially unsocial element, created by the Revolution, will some day absorb the middle classes, just as the middle classes have destroyed the nobility. Lifted above the law by its own insignificance, this Robespierre, with one head and twenty million arms, is at work perpetually; crouching in country districts, intrenched in municipal councils, under arms in the national guard of every canton in France, one result of the year 1830, which failed to remember that Napoleon preferred the chances of defeat to the danger of arming the masses.If during the last eight years I have again and again given up the writing of this book (the most important of those I have undertaken to write), and as often returned to it, it was, as you and other friends can well imagine, because my courage shrank from the many difficulties, the many essential details of a drama so doubly dreadful and so cruelly bloody. Among the reasons which render me now almost, it may be thought, foolhardy, I count the desire to finish a work long designed to be to you a proof of my deep and lasting gratitude for a friendship that has ever been among my greatest consolations in misfortune.De Balzac.

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1890 edition. Excerpt: ...stove, on each side of which were sporting-guns suspended on the walls. These adornments, which cost but little, were talked of throughout the whole valley as the last extreme of oriental luxury. Singular to say, they, more than anything else, excited the envy of Gaubertin, and whenever he thought of his fixed determination to bring Les Aigues to the hammer and cut it in pieces, he reserved for himself, in petto, this beautiful pavilion. On the next floor three chambers sufficed for the household. At the windows were muslin curtains which reminded a Parisian of the particular taste and fancy of bourgeois requirements. Left to herself in the decoration of these rooms, Madame Michaud had chosen satin papers; on the mantel-shelf of her bedroom--which was furnished in that vulgar style of mahogany and Utrecht velvet which is seen everywhere, with its high-backed bed and canopy to which embroidered muslin curtains are fastened--stood an alabaster clock between two candelabra covered with gauze and flanked by two vases filled with artificial flowers protected by glass shades, a conjugal gift of the former cavalry sergeant. Above, under the roof, the bedrooms of the cook, the man-of-all-work, and La Pechiua had benefited by the recent restoration. "Olympe, my dear, you did not tell me all," said the countess, entering Madame Michaud's bedroom, and leaving Emile and the abbe on the stairway, whence they descended when they heard her shut the door. Madame Michaud, to whom the abb had contrived to whisper a word, was now anxious to say no more about her fears, which, were really greater than she had intimated, and she therefore began to talk of a matter which reminded the countess of the object of her visit. "I love Michaud, madame, as you know....

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French writer Honore de Balzac had many unique strengths, and chief among them is his ability to limn and illuminate subtle differences between social classes. In this pastoral novel, Balzac explores the virtues and follies of country life through the eyes of Emile Blondet, a journalist who was born and raised in the provinces, works in Paris, and has returned to the countryside of his youth for a much-needed vacation.

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Sons Of The Soil by Honore De Balzac is a classic tale that has been loved by many for generations. It begins with a beautiful description of the valley of Aigues in Burgundy, where art and nature seem to blend into one. Any profits made from the sale of this book will go towards supporting the Freeriver Community project, a project that aims to support community and encourage well-being. To learn more about the Freeriver Community project please visit the website-www.freerivercommunity.com