Mr Goe

Time for something nice, something to make us smile and hug ourselves a little... Here is an extract from Caragiale's Mr Goe that never fails to warm the heart of any Roumanian (or those with Roumanian hearts!).

Adapted from Plural Magazine

Mr. Goe

by I. L. Caragiale (1852-1912)

So that he could finally be promoted at the end of his school year, grandma, mummy and auntie Mitsa promised to take young Goe to Bucharest for the King’s anniversary, 10^th May.

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Little do we care if the three ladies decided to leave their comfortable spot to come to the capital just to please their son, grandson and nephew. Suffice to say that in the early morning, on the central station’s platform in the town of X, the ladies, all dressed-up, along with the young Goe, are impatiently waiting for the fast train to take them to Bucharest. It is true that once one has decided to attend such an important national celebration, one must make an early start. The train they are due to catch reaches the north station at ten to eight a.m. Mr. Goe is impatient and argues in a demanding voice:

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“Grandma, why isn’t it coming?... I want it to come!”

“It’s coming, it’s coming, chickabiddy!” the lady answers.

And she kisses her grandchild, then fixes his hat.

Young Goe is wearing a beautiful sailor suit and on his straw hat ribbon one can read the inscription Le Formidable; and under the ribbon is the train ticket, safely put there by auntie Mitsa, ‘cause “this is how gentlemen hold their ticket.”

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“See how nice he looks,” says grandma, “with his little sailor suit on?”

 “Mummy, didn’t I tell you one doesn’t say ‘little sailor’?”

“Then what does one say?”

“Little soiler…”

“Well! You say what you please; I say it as I know it. This is what it was called in my days, when this chidrens' fashion first appeared – sailor.”

“Can’t you see you’re both stupid?” the young Goe intervenes. “It’s not called little sailor or little soiler…”

“Then what’s it called, smarty pants?” asks auntie Mitsa with an amused smile on her face.

“Siler…”

“Well now! Not everybody went through school like you did!” says grandma, then kisses her grandson again and fixes his siler’s hat.

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But there’s no more time for philological debate; the train is coming – and it doesn’t stay long.

It's full to the brim. But thanks to the benevolence of some polite young men who get off at a nearby station, the ladies find seats. The train is on its way again. Grandma crosses herself and then lights a cigarette… Goe doesn’t want to enter the compartment; he wants to stay in the corridor, where all the grown-up men are.

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“No, you’re not supposed to stick your head out the window, little fellow!” one of them says to Goe pulling him away from the window.

“That’s none of your business, ugly face!” says the little chap, struggling.

And after making faces at the ugly guy, he hangs himself with both hands from the brass rod and puts his head out again. But ugly face doesn’t get to reply before the little fellow pulls back his head and screams in a terrified voice:

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“Mummy! Grandmaaa’! Auntiiiiiiie!”

“What is it? What is it?” cry the ladies.

“Make it stop!” shouts Goe even louder, stamping his foot. “My hat flew away! Make it stoooop!!!”

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At that moment the conductor enters the carriage to check out the new passengers.

“Tickets, please!”

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The ladies show their tickets and try to explain why Goe can’t do the same; of course, the ticket was tucked inside the hat ribbon and if the hat has flown away, then evidently the ribbon and the ticket  have flown away, too. But still, he had had a ticket…

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“Cross my heart! I bought it myself!” says auntie Mitsa.

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And yet the conductor doesn’t get it, he wants the ticket; if not, he’ll have to throw Mr. Goe off at the next station. That’s what the book says: if a passenger doesn’t have a ticket and doesn’t declare not having a ticket, they’re supposed to pay a fine of 7 lei and 50 bani and get off the train at the next station.

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“And didn’t we just declare it?” shouts mummy.

“How’s it the boy’s fault if his hat flew away?” says grandma.

“Why did he stick his head out the window? I told him not to do it!” says the ugly face, spitefully.

“This is none of your business! Why do you have to interfere?” says auntie Mitsa to the ugly face…

“Look, lady, you have to pay for the ticket,” says the conductor.

“Pay again? Didn’t we just pay?”

“Plus one leu and 25 bani.”

“Plus what?...”

“See what happens if you don’t get a hold of yourself?” says mummy and shakes Goe’s hand.

“What are you doing, sis? Are you crazy? Don’t you know just how sensitive he is?” cries grandma.

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And grabbing his other hand, she pulls him away from his mummy exactly when the train, screeching loudly passes by a switch point. As his grandma pulls him in one direction and the carriage shakes in the other, Goe loses his balance for a moment and squashes his nose against the carriage door knob. He lets out a series of shrieks… ultimately, there’s not much they can do about it. They must decide to pay for the ticket the conductor will give them from his pocketbook. What a shame the hat is lost, though!... what will Mr. Goe do bareheaded in Bucharest? With all the shops closed! Anyone would question it - anyone who doesn’t know how careful and prudent grandma is. How was she supposed to let the boy leave with just a straw hat? What if it were to rain or to get chilly? Grandma pulls out a beret from her small bag  - a beret belonging to the very same uniform – the gunboat, Le Formidable.

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“Does your nose still hurt, chickabiddy?” asks grandma.

“No…” replies Goe.

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Hope so!”

“Come to grandma and let her kiss it better!”

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And she kisses the top of his nose; then, while she’s fixing his beret nicely on his head:

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“He looks even better with his beret on!...” says grandma spitting on him for good luck, then kissing him lovingly.

“Why, he looks good in anything!” adds auntie Mitsa, then she spits on him too and kisses him.

“Oh, let him be, he’s really too much! I never heard of such a thing.. losing his new hat and his train ticket!...” says mummy, pretending to be very upset.

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“May he be healthy, so he can wear a better one!” says grandma.

And mummy replies:

“Aren’t you gonna kiss your mummy too?”

“I don’t wanna!” says Goe showing his sense of humour.

“Oh really?” says mummy. “Let me be then!...” and she covers her eyes with her hands, pretending to cry.

“C’mon, I know you’re faking!” says Goe.

“You found a prankster there!” says grandma.

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Mummy starts to laugh; she takes something out of the small bag and says:

“Whoever gives me a kiss…look!... chuclates!”

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Mummy kisses Goe, Goe kisses mummy and, taking the chocolate bar, goes out into the corridor again.

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“Chickabiddy, don’t stick your head out the window!... it’s incredible just how smart he is!” says grandma.

“It’s scary, cross my heart!” adds auntie Mitsa.

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While Goe is eating his chocolate bar outside, the ladies chatter about one thing and another… the train is running now from Crivina to Peris.

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“Go see what the boy is doing outside, mummy!” says mummy to grandma.

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Grandma rises slowly like an old lady and goes into the corridor.

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“Goe! Chickabiddy! Goe! Goe!”

Goe is nowhere to be found.

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“Oh my God!” shouts the old lady. “I can’t find the boy! Where is the boy!... The boy is gone!”

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And all the ladies scream,

“The boy has fallen off the train! Auntie, I’m dying!”

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All of a sudden, from the single-person compartment, thunderous noises are heard, covering the train’s roar.

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“Goe! Sweetie! Are you in there?”

“Yes!”

“C’mon out then!” says grandma. “Come out now! You scared us to death.”

“I can’t!” shouts Goe from within.

“Why?… does your heart ache?”

“No! I can’t…”

“It’s locked!” says grandma, trying to open the door from the outside.

“I can’t open it!” shouts Goe desperately.

“Oh my, oh my! The boy is gonna be sick in there!”

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Finally, the conductor appears with the ticket: he is paid and frees the captive, who is kissed by all three ladies as if they haven’t seen him for years. Grandma decides to stay in the corridor, seated on someone’s luggage to keep an eye on Goe, so nothing bad would happen to the chickabiddy. At the end of the corridor, the chickabiddy spies a metal thread at the end of which there’s a handle attached to a machine. He gets on the luggage and yanks the handle.

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“Sit down, lest you should wreck anything!” says grandma.

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The train keeps going from Peris to Buftea at top speed. But halfway to km. 24, a sudden whistle is heard, then the alarm signal, three short whistles and then the train stops with a jolt.

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“What is it? what is it?” The scared passengers burst from the windows, the doors, the steps…

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“Goe! Chickabiddy! Goe!” shouts auntie Mitsa and rushes out of their compartment.

“Goe is outside, in the corridor. Why did the train stop?”

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Someone, nobody knows from which compartment, had pulled the alarm signal. From which carriage? This is easy to establish; the handle cannot be pulled without breaking the knotted thread and the lead seal.

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The train staff are fussing about, examining the collided wheels; there has been so much pressure that it takes the engine driver ten minutes to load the steam pump and start the train all over again. In the meantime, the conductors and the train manager run from one carriage to another, examining the alarm signal machines.

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Who can guess in what carriage the lead seal has been broken and the handle pulled? Funny! Precisely in the carriage from which the sailor’s hat had flown away! Who? Who pulled the handle? Grandma is asleep in a compartment corner, with her chickabiddy in her arms. No one can tell who pulled the handle.

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The train is finally on its way again and reaches Bucharest several minutes late. Everybody gets off. Grandma fixes Goe’s beret, spits on the chickabiddy for luck, asks him if his nose still hurts and kisses him tenderly.

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Then the ladies get the chickabiddy into a carriage and head downtown:

“To the bewlivar', cabman, to the bewlivar'!”

Comments

[sairj]

okaaaay! There are a few exceptions for bewlivard! :D

To the abanew! (That's hilarious! Perfick!);)

[DanielR]

"Sunset Boulevard" anyone? ;)



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boulevard

seems used more in the US though



otherwise, if using "avenue" as base term, the translation would be "to the abanew"

[sairj]

Ha! Nice one, Daniel, but 'boulevard' is French. We don't use it in English... more like 'to the aveNEW'... 'bewlevard'!! Love it! :D

[DanielR]

it's more like: “To the bewlevard, cabman, to the bewlevard!”