#andre borel

Beymonte lez-Mostaganem

17th February, 1849

My dear Andre,

Your unexpected letter came to fill our bordj[1] with happiness/contentment: for you and because of you. The lady whom you met in the carriage, has informed you thoroughly about the mischief that the people of National[2] allowed themselves towards me.

My desire of re-entering the administration is little, almost none. For one part, I do not want to immediately quit Mostaganem for a different residence; for another, after that villainous administrator like the one that I have suffered in this country, to the huge surprise and great chagrin of all the population, I would need a very brilliant revenge. I could only accept the 1st post and a high remuneration. We await hourly at Mostaganem, the news of appointment of the sous-prefet- since you are well connected, can you help me in this regard? If not- well, not.  

In fact, I have some support that I have not used to this day, M. Bugeaud duc d’Isly, with whom I have been in contact regarding Algeria for more than a year, for internal work. M. Bugeaud is a man from whom I have hope of kindness and who, I believe, could very well make that happen for me.

It is true that I have only told him a portion of my misfortunes. It is also possible that he does not know the full extent of how they have fucked me over[3]: because they resented me in Algeria to have served on these particular projects of colonization.

In all circumstances, if you care about obliging me, I may give you an opportunity to do so these days.

Since then, I have been excluded from even the diverse works I was employed in by the military management of the Province before. There are my 975 Francs, well, around 1000 francs as you see, by this management, and M. Intendant[4] divisionnaire of Oran not wanting to hand over this sum of expenditure to me.  I am going to write to the Minister of war with all the circumstances of this affair and ask S. Exc [5] if there are some examples of this that the administration must serve/give to the public.

Detaining the salary of a man who has to work for a living, privately we call that swindling. When I will address my judiciary expose/factum to the minister, I will let you know and will send you a copy.  

And if you can reprimand[6] that crook Intendant of Oran, named Dillon, and hand him the order of accomplishing his engagements, - that will make for a good laugh.

Till the next letter then.

You have told me nothing about Jeanne – nothing of Francisque, etc. If I was made by the law to guard my silence, all of you in Paris do not have the same reasons, without doubt, for acting in this manner- for you do not have to be very much loquacious.

From the details of my life in Africa, on my past situation and on my present one, I have written/produced for you, a step by step [procedure/document]: this morning however, I have no time. Now that I am no longer Ruy Blas, valet of Don Salluste, I have become a man again, a Klepht[7], and I make my pathway in the bushes, and do not leave. My heart does not oblige me to hide my head and break my pen.   Nevertheless, after a long time, I am fighting for the cause with you, do not say anything to anyone, nor give my news either.  Say rather that I am dead and buried in the sands, that arrangement suits me better: I will explain to you in another letter why, if you want that.

-What is the position which you occupy at the moment? What are the advantages?

Gabrielle called Beatrix and Justus called Bobeaux are very satisfied to see a letter come from you. They are very pleased to know that you are happy and in a good position.

Adieu my brother and thank you. We embrace you very tenderly.  

Petrus Borel

[In the margin of the first page]

Your letter is dated from 26 January and I did not receive it till Thursday 15 February.

Footnotes: 

[1] Castle in Arabic.

[2] Not entirely sure but it may refer to the newspaper National, who may have printed something unfavourable to Borel. *Edit: PilferingApples mentioned that it is referring to the rivalry between Marrast, the Editor of Le National, and Borel. 

[3] (The literal expression is broken their pot on my shoulders, and I have been told that ‘casse son pot’ is an expression which means to have anal sex. But I’m still not sure about the whole sentence, this is my best guess)

[4] Bursar, paymaster

[5] Some person in authority, I suppose. 

[6] Octroyer sur les doigts- old idiom, literal meaning ‘give on the fingers’ i.e. to punish/to scold

*some confusion here! he’s either asking for a sort of pharmaceutical recipe--like, a home treatment thing-- or for the paperwork to certify citizenship etc. Either one would fit! but given André’s  job, I’m guessing it means the paperwork/forms.

**In context with the paperwork, I think this may mean he’s not sure that Gabrielle (and maybe thus their kid?) has all their paperwork in order-- or else that he’s not sure they’ll be able to get the formalities done in time otherwise?  As other people have pointed out, being formally certified and officially recognized as legitimate under the Napoleonic Civil Code was a big deal ; that could be a problem for a couple off on a farm. 

***-this seems to mean something like “in a tight spot”-- it would account for him wanting the paperwork, if they can’t get to a town or get an official out?)

**** Petrus has mentioned off and on in letters for a while that he and Gabrielle both were sad about not having kids-- this is exciting for them, but  the cautious tone here seems like he’s also pretty worried, because, well, 19th century childbirth.

**** directly, this translates as “put down for/to green”? but seems to be slang for being in the country, from what I can tell/context?

***** “We’ll name him after every man in the family! OC DO NOT STEAL” XD (also, ouch. He really took Benoni’s death hard, geez.) 

General notes:  !!! I knew Petrus and Gabrielle got on better than usual with the local Islamic community, but not that they expected to raise their kid in the faith?  I’d say ‘maybe he just means Arabic’, but Petrus is pretty good about knowing the difference..?  Mystery! 

Mon cher André, je te prie de m'envoyer la formule d'une lettre de part, de part, partus, c'est le mot, pour une naissance.  Je ne me rappell que la mère & l'enfant se portent bien.  Je vais en avoir bientôt besoin-- Gabrielle dite Béatrix, sa haquenée & son ânesse, sont en position intéressante, & mettront bas probablement pour le vert.

Quant à Gabrielle, après 9 ans de mariage, ce n'est pas trop tôt.

Si elle donne le jour à un chef salique: il se nommera Aldéran, André, Petrus, Benaouni.  Aldéran en mémoire de son bisaieul, André du nom de son aieul & de son oncle, Petrus du nom de son père, Benaouni en mémoire de défunt Benoni notre frère.

Pour les arabes, il sera Benaouni tout court, car il sera musulman. 

Haute Pensee

24 December, 1855

My dear Andre,

I am taking advantage of a good neighbour from the country who is going to Paris, to pass this word to you. M. Mick is in the process of obtaining the authorization to construct a windmill for the village of Aboukir. If you can be useful for him by your connections, do so, you will make me happy.  Furthermore, I have given him, some letters for the Ministry of War, which will probably open the doors for him.  M. Mick is bringing with this letter, a small packet containing haik[1] for Jeanne that her aunt Gabrielle called Beatrix has sent, to thank her again for the silence of ten years. With this Arabic haik, Jeanne can make a chale[2], a dress, a cajoule[3], whatever she wants. God only hopes that this meagre testimony will please her. If we had more warning for the visit, we could have sent more and better gifts; that will need to be postponed to another occasion.

You are lucky that Gabrielle is not at home but at the colonies of Ain-Nouilli where she has been killing a sow for Christmas, a sow that we had put to fertilise in the village: because if she hadn’t left this morning, you would not have had this time for my scribbles…, I am always holding a grudge against you. But since, at last, I am telling you why, here:

1. Because in your letters- [which are] rare- you are always crying poverty;

2. Because you are always speaking to me of old debts- expired and re-expired and etc.

3. Because I asked you, a long time ago already, by paying even[4], for your directories of the nobility, of which I have the three first years and you have sent neither the previous issues nor the present/new ones.

Don’t you think that that alone would cause sorrow/grief/pain to the feelings of a brother in exile?

4. Because you ignore the fact that in my exile, I am restricted from books, public papers, brochures, journals, etc. that it would have been very easy for you [to obtain/to send] by your scientific and literary position and would cause me great satisfaction, very cheaply. I want to say, you could send the newspapers, papers and brochures, after reading them, in the post to me. You certainly do not keep all the typographic paperwork which falls in your hand. You had the bad heart/ill will to wipe yourself [with them] conscientiously instead of sending them to me.  This probably in your eyes isn’t even a minor sin, to the eyes of an exile it is an unpardonable crime. I do not pardon you until you have re-purchased your acceptance by conducting yourself better, I want to say, with a more generous habit.

In the circumstance when my neighbour M. Mick will be returning to Mostaganem, and if he has a small space available in his suitcase, I request you for my sake to keep some book or something [I do not know what], if however it is not voluminous, heavy or bothersome for the voyage.

By the way, I am no longer inspector of colonization. I have been demoted for refusing to collaborate with some crooks/cheats, M. the Vicount of Gantes, sous-prefet of Mostaganem and sieur Quesnel, a voïou[5] a marlou[6], arsouille, grinche[7] given the position of the chief of the bureaus of colonization. That is my honour! I am therefore a simple fellah that is to say my only claim is to my property and to just being a simple French writer. Blessed be the Seigneur Apollo, my God! And blessed be Madame Ceres!

I would really like to know how much merit the de Gantes can claim among the nobility of France. Therefore be indulgent and tell me by your heraldic and genealogical science, where exactly are the houses of Carpentras or Vaucluse situated in there, who had for heir, glory of its virtues and its beautiful name, the entertainer and the crook who is the Prefectural administrator here at Mostaganem.

Adieu and conduct yourself better in my regard if you want that I love you and write to you. I embrace Jeanne well.

Your angry brother,

Petrus Borel

Footnotes:

[1] Traditional Berber long piece of clothing for women

[2] shawl

[3] scarf

[4] Not sure what payment is being referred to here

[5] Immoral man, man without any scruples, vagabond, delinquent, arsouille is a synonym as well

[6] Argot: cunning/strong/pimp/smart-aleck

[7] Argot: someone who robs/steals/plunders; a grumpy person, surly

Haute Pensee les Mostaganem

Sunday, 24 August, 1856

My Dear Andre,

I am taking advantage of the fact that I am alone in the manor, to begin writing a letter to you that will probably be long. Gabrielle has left yesterday for Blad-Halloufa to our Arabs, who celebrate a funeral and commemorative party, every year, in honour of the late first wife of the head of the family and of the tent, [it is a] celebration of the spirit of ancestors, which is necessarily composed of a lot of food, dance, song and music. She will only return tomorrow evening.

By the way, [talking about] Gabrielle, Jeanne has written her a very pretty letter in her beautiful and cute hand, on the 10th of May, a long time ago, and I thank her again very tenderly for it. But this villainess Gabrielle has again not responded to her kind/gentle niece, I will reprimand her for this nonchalance and punish her like she deserves. It does not do to not [pick up the pen][1] like that. Especially for dearest Jeanne! Our dear Jeanne!

I have at Oran a goddaughter also named Jeanne: a really tiny pearl, a true demon! She adores her godfather who himself appears in the form of cakes and candies. Godfather or uncle, you see that my heart is too taken up with Jeanne! It is true that my niece is called Jenny in Grand Breton/Brittany and that the Gauls of my sort are wrong to not call her so.

I am getting more and more strongly bored. I am full of weariness and fatigue. I am afraid that my sadness pours with my ink on the paper, oozes, is allowed to see you and bother you and it is for that, that I wander.

I waited forever, to talk with you, since your last one [letter] of 20 June, to be in good humour and joy. Waiting in vain. Take me therefore like I am. A bad tempered chat once more, is worth more than a silence too prolonged again. Especially after your letter of 20 June, a letter which was little kind, because you believed I was angry and ruminant.

I hope that this time, you will say all that you think/feel[2] so that it is a relief to you. Did you say some swear words to me…Oh well! I do not hold it against you.  

You have done well if that has dispersed the clouds of your heart. If that has put some balm for you. My God! What a thrashing on my poor ass! Nevertheless, here, sincerely, I don’t believe to have merited all the cane strokes that have been given to me and I fear that you haven’t been entirely [correct] in calling me misanthrope and a grumbler, more of a grumbler and misanthrope than I am. Finally, it does not matter, to us, in fact that we are reproached/rebuked the morsel[3] of disappointed love. In matters of affection, the blows[4] are qualified, the flick of the fingers is appropriate. My nose has received good enough humiliations/snubs, many times [much] better that it will learn. [Whether they be] matrimonial customs or of co-habitation [5] we are fighting.

                                   Officer                                   Go Freely                                    For love                                It is a good day

I love you well! Even though suffering, I take your anger, paragraph by paragraph so that I can exonerate myself all the times that I can. You will lose nothing there and I shall win here. You will remain white and I shall become less black.  

First, you said to me that this is not your fault if your correspondence is not more active, more intimate and full of effusions; that you have tried and tried to do your best, [but] you never received from me any reproaches or any railleries.

That my brother, isn’t it a little exaggerated? I have made some complaints and not reproaches, two times it is true; but moved by some very tender and very honourable sentiments.

The first time to put an end to a sulk on my part of which I became ashamed and wanted to take back, impossible from henceforth. The second time, for you to witness all the love that Gabrielle has devoted in this way to Jeanne, your daughter and her niece; you made known too sharply the chagrin that she [Gabrielle] had felt, not to receive something from M. Mick on the way back, without value, a work from [the hands of] Jeanne, rather a promise than one object, a plan, a sketch, an embroidery[6], a small clock[7] or something coming from you, which she [Gabrielle] could delight in hanging up on her wall.

Gabrielle is very affectionate/loving, she is sensible like an exile, and her heart which does not have the occasion to wear itself out in maternal concerns, fills completely with her devotion for you, [and] had felt a slight hurt, a disappointment, that I’ve had had the good heartedness, the idiocy [to tell] because of much you fail to see or because of much you say- That will not occur to me anymore! Or [will occur] less, if it will occur to me again, that will be with very much care[8].  

If I undertake to make my daughter excel in her talents, paint my hopes and all that I see of beauty [in her], you respond to me by [the] cruel ironies- you add.

But, Palsambleu[9], Pasque-Dieu[10], Saints of the Heavens! Hell and Damnation! Where are you finding that? When have I tarnished your beautiful thoughts, your fine reveries? When have I turned into irony, our Jeanne, my Jeanne, my dear niece of whom I am more proud, than you [are]? That I will die insisting, it is true that such abomination is approaching my spirit and my soul.  No, I deserve better than that! I do not have a bit of irony for a smart young girl, for my beloved niece. No, I do not have a bit of ridicule for you my brother! No!

Have I therefore, the misfortune when I speak of not being [even] a little bit understood?

Have you read my letter thoroughly? It is not possible that I have said nothing or made nothing of this!

You never wrote to me that you have paid M. or Madame de Morville. If you have done it, let me know. I will assuredly reimburse the sum to you. That would be easy for me. In objecting, before the complaint of the Morville spouse, I wanted, not that you paid, but that they not burst from all sides, [demanding to be] paid. The small hunchbacked crier owed me a huge gratitude. I have had the honour of preventing her house from being abandoned and deserted. I have been the concierge, the governor, the guard[11], the soldier[12], the vicar[13], interior decorator, the bursar/manager, the mayor, the Emperor[14].

And the hussy/wench has once again asked for a salary. Moreover, she had addressed to me, several never-ending dispatches, full of insults adorned/laced with threats and at the distance where I was her affliction[15], her deformity[16], it remained to me to have no other vengeance than to make her wait for her payment until the resurrection. I thank you again for having paid the sachette, the hunchback! But for another part, I regret it.  It is two or three good blows of the ram and catapult[17] that I wish her.

I do not have any recollection of the letter, raging like a tempest that I would have sent after my nomination to Constantine. I did not understand how I could bring to you [the news] of my removal from Mostaganem because it seemed to me that it was to M. Zoepffel that I would have been forced to go back to, and the misfortune that would accompany it.

It is the quality of great villains to forget about some of their crimes but it is also the quality of some merciful souls to not recollect all the crimes of those great villains.

There is no need for me to say any more than I have said in this manner, with regard to M. Mick, my pen has not spelled out the word thief with capital letters.    

I have begged/urged you especially, and you have no right to give me the description of fussy that you had intended for Gabrielle, [just] so I can make sure if the aforesaid sieur hadn’t embezzled [funds] from the profit, for the benefit of furnishing his castle, to say nothing of his vast and rotund spouse. If my apprehension was reckless, you would have to send him back [to] me because this gloomy suspicion lowered sieur Mick in my eyes. He was not elevated in them [in the first place].

You have written here, there is little time. This is not so [little], since his return is in January.  After all the courtesies/kindnesses you had shown him, first of all, I don’t know why he made a mystery of his letter to me. At his arrival [back here] the pilgrim mixed up, praise for you, admiration for you, in exclamations for your graciousness, on the joy that you have given him and etc. etc. I regretted then not having sent you a character more dignified in my eyes of your welcome.

I wasn’t expecting many cordialities on your part, I understand that you have done all those things for me, I was touched, grateful…but that [also] worried me. It is that you had placed too much [effort] to make comfortable a man who is not a neighbour of my [part of the] country, who I had only seen two or three times there and then above all, I had wanted to take advantage to send to Jeanne a little rough work[18] that her aunt had made and was fortunate to send through him. Finally, if he did not trick you/do you a wrong, Praise be to the Lord!  It is already too much that he has misplaced your haik. I was not counting on him considerably. I have had too many examples, in the same scenario of unfaithful messengers to allocate that they be charged for replacing it, that I dared to only risk a haik. Although I would have had many other objects to send to you, from here and quite often. But I have always been reserved/hesitant and will probably be again by a distrust sufficiently created.

The [so called] Pilaud, interpreter for the Arabic language, formerly of the Arabic office at Mostaganem and presently at Djerma-rhazaout, had a letter to communicate to you, a letter of mine, if he did not send it, you were right to receive him coldly. This is an honest, educated boy who has been very agreeable to me especially at the moment of my last administrative disgrace. He has some heart and I’m starting to like him. What he wanted was not to live in Kalmouk [but] in Paris, where you [should have] placed him in touch with some writers from my old friends, such as Theophile Gautier among others. Besides, I do not have his news, since he does not write to me.

Here is a bitter paragraph, especially if you have written it with regards to me: “Besides, I have never been spoiled, because in fact, by way of presents, I have never received anything except some visits from Joannes or some demands for money, [I hope you will] forgive my inexperience.”    

I repeat, that this sentence is very bitter! and if you thought of me in writing it, I would have to forgive you despite your inexperience.  Tell me therefore, how did it occur, that you have delivered Joannes to the House Saint-Martin? Has he then been arrested like a wandering abbot? Like a cardinal without a [place of] refuge or a diocese?  

How is it that he goes gossiping in the bureau of your administration? I took him for a poor soul, an idiot, his life, as told [by] Shakespeare, for a story, a tale narrated by an imbecile but I did not think him malicious. That pains/saddens me. Elaborate a little on this subject.

When I wrote to you to send me a little money urgently, it was [to keep] going till the harvest, which I believed would be good but it has been a failure completely. In place of 4000 francs that I had hoped for, I get nothing for my troubles there and must move on. I am therefore pleased that you did not respond then because I would have been embarrassed today to return the money which you had loaned me. You can keep if it would please you, the sum which has come from the estate. However, if it is not a great need, entrust it to me and I will buy in your name for you, four or five small heifers or ten sheep (ewes) of whom you will be the recognized owner by an act and my cheptelier.[19] The four or five heifers cost 100 francs and will be worth 400 or 500 francs in three years, at the minimum/at least. For the sheep you will remain the owner from the start and will receive half of the profit.

I have once again many things to say to you. That will be the subject of another letter. Adieu.

Petrus

Footnotes: 

[1] I cannot find the word inplumitive anywhere, which makes me assume that Borel made it up. But plume means pen so this is what I think he means here, i.e. to not write.

[2] Literal expression: emptied your bag

[3] The full phrase used here is a piece/slice/morsel of cheese

[4] Horions (old word, not in use anymore): blows rudely discharged to the head and shoulders

[5] Can’t find the actual word, though the intended meaning seems clear, possibly misspelt it or changed it.

[6] The word used is probably another made up word, since I can’t find it anywhere- the closest meaning is embroidery

[7] Could be a spelling mistake, the closest word is pendulette, which means a clock

[8] With mittens, is the actual word used.

[9] 17th Century swear word/form of interjection, alteration of: by God’s Blood!

[10] Pasque-dieu, another interjection/swear word.  

[11] From Ancient Greek

[12] Haven’t been able to find the exact word, possible misspelling, could mean a soldier in the Macedonian (Greek) Army

[13] Old Latin phrase, I believe

[14] Ancient Greek word signifying king

[15] Gibbosity: the hump, the curvature in the spine

[16] Convexity: another synonym of a hump, a curvature

[17] A violent attack caused by a physical or moral force.

[18] I can’t find the word torchonnet, so probably the word intended was torchonner and it might be a misspelling

[19] taking of a lease in livestock