Gogo

“ One might meet him begging on a city bridge, and look wondering down for the song of the water in the rushes that were not; one might read his hairy breast into dreams of red dead bracken, and see his eyes, under their matted brows, like little forest pools reflecting glimpses of the sky, and not guess who he was, for he would never whine of better days. He always took fortune like a fallen god, did Gogo. He always smelt sweet, did my monster. ”

“ Gogo thundered.
“She’s a rotten fish at best, shining the more the more corrupt she is.”
“But if she don’t shine?” said de Crespigny coolly.
“Then she’s a dull fish,” said Gogo, “but a fish still.”
The other mused, and sniggered.
“—Who’s for ever playing to be caught,” added Gogo, grumbling. “She loves the angle. Play her what you like, man, only throw her back when hooked.”
“Mr. Gogo!” I exclaimed.
“Ay, Mistress Una,” said he, “you’re all pretty players, from miss to my lady dowager. Don’t tell me. ”

“ There was the human, the humorous, the tolerant large philosophy of being which Gogo had revealed in his story of himself. His misfortunes had but made him forswear the false goddess in whom weaker men sought to justify their passions. ”

“ All Naples, it seemed, was bent on shouting down its brother.
“What next?” bawled Gogo in my ear.
A handsome inn, the “Orient,” stood comparatively quiet and isolated in an odd corner of the Place.
“Rooms—there!” I answered.
“Its exclusiveness makes it prominent,” boomed Gogo, with as much dryness as he could put into a roar.
I beckoned him on imperiously.
On n’a jamais bon marché de mauvaise marchandise. ”

“ Do you know, Gogo? I will tell you the truth. I was hunting for the key of the press when you came in and caught me.”
He lay, without answering.
“Won’t you lend it me, Gogo?” I coaxed softly.
“Thank God,” he muttered, raising his head, “I am tied from the temptress. It is not in my power, thou Circe. He always carries it with him.”
XI.
I ADD THE LAST TOUCH TO A PORTRAIT That same night, while undressing, with my room door open for the heat, I suddenly thought I distinguished an unwonted footstep on the landing below me, from which Patty’s little chamber led. ”

“ Gogo, m. (familiar) , simple-minded man who invests his capital in swindling concerns, “gull;” man easily fleeced.
Quand les allumeurs de l’Hôtel des Ventes eurent jugé le gogo en complet entraînement, il y eut un arrêt momentané parmi les enchères intéressées.—A. Sirven.
(Popular) Gogo, greenhorn, “flat.” The term, with this signification, is hardly slang. Villon uses it in his Ballade de Villon et de la Grosse Margot (15th century) .
Riant, m’assiet le poing sur mon sommet, Gogo me dit, et me fiert le jambot.
Gogotte, adj. (popular) , spiritless; weak; bad. ”

“ How I pity you, Gogo—with your untrained, unskilled, innocent pen, poor scribe! having to write all this down—for you must—and do your poor little best, as I have done mine in telling you! You must let the heart speak, and not mind style or manner! Write any how! write for the greatest need and the greatest number.
"But do just try and see this, dearest, and make the best of it you can: as far as I can make it out, everything everywhere seems to be an ever-deepening, ever-broadening stream that makes with inconceivable velocity for its own proper level, WHERE PERFECTION IS! ”

“ I was in the tower, in all, but four days, which, nevertheless, might have been as many weeks for their tediousness. Gogo was an incomparable slave and henchman, only his devotion necessarily lacked the relish of publicity. If I could have had but one other to whom to boast it, I could have endured it longer. But to be Single-heart’s exclusive fetish, immured in his wigwam and appropriated to his sole company, was what never appealed to me. Nor do I believe that it does truthfully to any other. We are omnivorous; we can’t live on spoon-meat alone ”

“ He was so small—so pathetically small!
[Illustration: M. LE MAJOR.]
It was a long time before I could give him an idea of who I was—Gogo
Pasquier!
Then after a while he seemed to recall the past a little.
"Ha, ha! Gogo—gentil petit Gogo!—oui—oui—l'exercice? Portez ... arrrmes! arrmes ... bras? Et Mimsé? bonne petite Mimsé! toujours mal à la tête?"
He could just remember Madame Seraskier; and repeated her name several times and said, "Ah! elle était bien belle, Madame Seraskier!" ”

“ He seized me by the wrist, and dragged me towards the opened door.
“O, Gogo!” I choked, struggling and resisting, “we shall be seen.”
“What does it matter if we are,” he said fiercely, “since you loathe me?”
I wept and fondled him, in an agony of fear.
“I don’t loathe you. You are my one stay and comfort. Gogo! Will you give me back to that terror?”
He fell squatting at my feet—it was his substitute for kneeling—and clasped his arms about my skirt.
“Beast!” he groaned; “I neither meant nor could help it. To play upon your fears!—To taste love by deputy!—O, forgive me, forgive me!” ”

“ The room remained so still after her going that I thought he too had followed, until, stealing out presently in a panic, I found him seated in a corner, biting his nails.
“I had better go now, hadn’t I?” I whispered, half choking.
“Yes,” he growled, “to the devil!”
X.
I BEWITCH A MONSTER On the following morning, going indifferently by the studio, where was a back way into the grounds, I encountered Gogo.
“He’s at work on the portrait,” he said, standing moodily against the room door. “He’ll be at it all day. It’s no good your coming.” ”

“ I AM CONSIGNED TO A GREEN GRAVE To you, my dear Alcide, conscience is, I know, a disease, and virtue its relapse. I do not, then, ask your sympathy, but only your commiseration in that long struggle with my better self in which I was now to engage—a struggle which found me child, and left me woman—a struggle through whose intermittent deliriums moved ever the sorrowful figure of my poor lost Gogo. ”

“ There is a town on the coast of Gujerat and western side of the gulf of Cambay called Gogo, but it is no island, and could not possibly be subject to the king of the Deccan; and besides Verthema is obviously now going down the western coast of India.--E.]
[Footnote 67: Of a Swammy or Hindoo idol.--E.]
From the island of Goga I went to the city of Dechan [68] , of which the king or sultan is a Mahometan, and to whom the before mentioned captain of the Mamelukes at Goga is tributary. The city is beautiful, and stands in a fertile country which abounds in all things necessary for man. ”

“ But I tell you I would rather give that message than receive it: would rather be Gogo, the clown and pariah, than the Viscount Salted with all his prospective acres. Well, he died, and I took a spade, and buried him at the foot of the tree where he had rested. Pray God it bears wholesome acorns, for why should he wish to poison the swine his brothers? Then I inherited his property; and a thought, an inspiration, occurred to me how I might use it. ”

“ Not a drop of water for her, though I were to lie in Abraham’s bosom!
Night came, but no Gogo. Tortured with doubts and apprehensions, I could neither eat nor rest. Had he too repented at last of his loyalty, and abandoned me in my need? They all fell from me, those I had succoured and most trusted. Sometimes, in my agony of mind, I upbraided his selfishness, cursed my own irreclaimable fondness in putting faith in man. I believed he had sold himself—whether to cupidity or an emotion, what did it matter. ”

“ I laughed: “Not yet, my poet, my friend; since thou choosest another than Pucelle to breed thee thy patriots!”
I turned to the north. There, upon a huddle of tall buildings, looming near and enormous in the dark, the stars of the hills seemed to have drifted down, clinging thickly over all, like primroses under a bank.
“It is the royal palace,” said Gogo.
“It is our way, then,” I panted, on fire. “Follow me, and quickly; we are not safe here.” ”

“ For years I have helped to direct his career, have goaded his inspirations, cossetted his weaknesses. Ah, child! He is my child, made glorious by my faith in him. Do not seduce me from my allegiance to my child, and for the first time make me out of love with Nature!”
He ended with a groan, and flung himself prostrate on the floor, beating, I think, his forehead against it.
“Poor Gogo!” I said. “You have confessed; and so will I now. He is my child too. I adore him, and am so ravished by his art that I could not rest with thinking what he had made of the portrait. ”

“ I smiled, reading—
“Mignonette, Mignonette,
Of all flowers the pet.”
and “Indeed!” thought I, tossing my head; “but not yours as yet, sir!”
While I studied to disentangle the scribble, I heard breathing near me, and started to find Gogo regarding me with a cynical, half-diverted scowl. The creature walked like a cat on carpet. He had no creaking leather to betray him.
“So-ho!” growled he; “you can yet blush to be found out by your dog?”
I laughed, vexed, and a little embarrassed.
“O,” said he, “never mind! I am honoured in even that little rose of shame. You won’t grow it long.” ”

“ The giggling servants paused in their task to stare up; but the monster himself laboured round, with quite a stunned look.
“To help—me,” he whispered hoarsely; “the little scented rush to prop the oak!”
I was in love with his changed voice at once. It was something to meet only two-thirds of a man.
“No, no,” he said, touching my arm as if it were a relic. “I’m Gogo, the colour-grinder, the bottle-washer—not worthy to latch your ladyship’s little shoe. I’ll go down—I’ll go down. Ho-ho! it’s easy. I’ve done it all my life.” ”

“ My mother is young enough now to be my daughter; it is as a daughter, a sweet, kind, lovely daughter, that I love her now—a happily-married daughter with a tall, handsome husband who yodles divinely and slings stones, and who has presented me with a grandson—beau comme le jour—for whatever Peter Ibbetson may have been in his time, there is no gainsaying the singular comeliness of little Gogo Pasquier.
And Mimsey is just a child angel! Monsieur le Major is infallible.
"Elle a toutes les intelligences de la tête et du coeur! Vous verrez un jour, quand ça ira mieux; vous verrez!" ”

“ It seemed too comical, the way we three pious spinsters were scrambling for the favour of a sheep’s-eyes. A pair of small-clothes flung into our nunnery had been worse than an apple of discord. Skirts were so de rigueur with us, that I think even Gogo’s wooden legs seemed a little outrés.
“I do believe you were innocent, in everything but your cuddlesome looks,” I said, relenting.
“O yes, Diana!” she answered eagerly. “And I can’t help them.”
“Would you if you could?” I questioned doubtfully. “I don’t know. There is a good deal of method in artlessness. ”

“ The old crone quacked in laughter, came closer with that familiarity a sense of kinship lends, seized his arm and drew it about her waist.
“Behold us, Gogoma,” she paraded in ironic gaiety, “brother and sister from a line of brave men and beautiful señoras! ”

“ It furnished a theme just suited to his plan; the adventures of a hero impelled to penetrate into every strange region and into every stratum of society; an ingenious excuse for presenting to the world in a series of pictures the magic lantern of humanity. Both works proceed from a satirical and meditative mind, the sadness of which is veiled under a smile, and both belong to a style unique in itself, entirely original. Gogol objected to his work being called a romance. ”

“ Any one who reads Gogol’s early stories, even Dead Souls, will understand the inexplicable fascination hidden in a country which seems at first sight so devoid of outward and superficial attraction, and in a people whose defects are so obvious and unconcealed. ”

“ Herein shines forth all the power of Gogol’s talent. He paints egotism for us, double egotism: but he paints it with such delicate shades that the picture excites something more than admiration; it arouses a sort of sympathy.
Gogol knows well that happy people are the best people; that their joy radiates out, as it were, and that it warms, lightens, enlivens, just as sadness, even though legitimate, chills, wounds, warns away, every thing that approaches it. ”

“ Gogol leaves the husband and wife at the very hour of their most touching separation, and tells us rapidly the romance of a young man madly in love with a mistress who is dying. In the effervescence of his grief, the lover twice in succession tries to kill himself: the first time, by a pistol-shot in the head ”

“ The first article in the Solomon Islands code for white men was never to show fear before a native, and Joan tried to carry off the situation in cavalier fashion.
"Too much talk along you fella boy," she said severely. "Too much talk, too little work. Savvee?"
Gogoomy made no reply, but, apparently shifting weight, he slid one foot forward. The other boys, spread fan-wise about her, were also sliding forward, the cruel cane-knives in their hands advertising their intention. ”

“ Gogoomy was saying, perforce in bêche-de-mer English, because he was talking to others beside his own tribesmen. “You fella boy catch ’m one fella pig, put ’m kai-kai belong him along big fella fish-hook. S’pose dog he walk about catch ’m kai-kai, you fella boy catch ’m dog allee same one shark. Dog he finish close up. Big fella marster sleep along big fella house. ”

“ To them this book was wonderfully in advance of its time; to us it seems perhaps somewhat behind. Nothing is more difficult than to estimate what effect a work which is already old (especially if it be written in a foreign language) will produce our readers of to-day. Are we amused by the legend of "La Dame Blanche"? Certainly we are, for everybody enjoys it. Then perhaps the "Ladies of the Lake" of Gogol's book will be amusing.
In 1834 Gogol published his "Evenings near Mirgorod," including a veritable ghost story, terror-inspiring enough to make the flesh creep. ”