To Sail Beyond The Sunset

Father judged Mr Clemens to be one of the smartest and possibly the smartest man in America. Mr Clemens was seventeen years older than Father; he first became aware of ‘Mark Twain' with the Jumping Frog story. From that time on Father read everything by Mr Clemens he could lay hands on.

The year I was born Father wrote to Mr Clemens, complimenting him on A Tramp Abroad. Mr Clemens sent a courteous and dryly humorous answer; Father framed it and hung it on the wall of his clinic. Thereafter Father wrote to Mr Clemens as each new book by ‘Mark Twain' appeared. As a direct result, young Maureen read all of Mr Clemens' published works, curled up in a corner of her father's clinic. These were not books that Mother read; she considered them vulgar and destructive of good morals. By her values Mother was correct; Mr Clemens was clearly subversive by the standards of all ‘right-thinking' people.

I am forced to assume that Mother could spot an immoral book by its odour, as she never, never actually read anything by Mr Clemens.

So those books stayed in the clinic and I devoured them there, along with other books never seen in the parlour-not just medical books, but such outright subversion as the lectures of Colonel Robert Ingersoll and (best of all) the essays of Thomas Henry Huxley.

I'll never forget the afternoon I read Professor Huxley's essay on ‘The Gaderene Swine'.

‘Father,' I said in deep excitement, ‘they've lied to us all along!'

‘Probably,' he agreed. ‘What are you reading?'

I told him. ‘Well, you've read enough of it for today; Professor Huxley is strong medicine. Let's talk for a while.

How are you doing with the Ten Commandments? Got your final version?'

‘Maybe,' I answered.

‘How many are there now?'

‘Sixteen, I think.'

‘Too many.'

‘If you would just let me chuck the first five -‘

‘Not while you're under my roof and eating at my table. You see me attending church and singing hymns, do you not? I don't even sleep during the sermon. Maureen, rubbing blue mud in your belly button is an indispensable survival skill... everywhere, anywhere. Let's hear your latest version of the first five.'

‘Father, you are a horrid man and you will come to a bad end.'

‘Not as long as I can keep dodging them. Quit stalling.'

‘Yes, sir. First Commandment: Thou shalt pay public homage to the god favoured by the majority without giggling or even smiling behind your hand.'

‘Go on.'

‘Thou shalt not make any graven image of a sort that could annoy the powers that be, especially Mrs Grundy - and, exempli gratia, this is why your anatomy book doesn't show the clitoris. Mrs Grundy wouldn't like it because she doesn't have one.'

‘Or possibly has one the size of a banana,' my father answered, ‘but doesn't want anyone to find out. Censorship is never logical but, like cancer, it is dangerous to ignore it when it shows up. Darling daughter, the purpose of the second commandment is simply to reinforce the first. A "graven image" is any idol that could rival the official god; it has nothing to do with sculpture or etchings. Go on.'

‘Thou shalt not take the name of thy Lord God in vain... which means don't swear, not even Jiminy or Golly or darn, or use any of those four-letter words, or anything that Mother might consider vulgar. Father, there is something here that doesn't make sense. Why is "vagina" a good word while "cunt" is a bad word? Riddle me that.'

‘Both are bad words out of your mouth, youngster, unless you are talking to me... in which case you will use the medical Latin out of respect for my vocation and my grey hair. You are permitted to say the Anglo-Saxon synonym under your breath if it pleasures you.'

‘Somehow it does, and I haven't been able to analyse why. Number four -‘

‘Just a moment. Add to number three: Thou shalt not split infinitives, or dangle participles. Thou shalt shun solecisms. Thou shalt honour the noble English language, speech of Shakespeare, Milton and Poe, and it will serve thee all the days of thy life. In particular, Maureen, if 1 ever again hear you say "different than" I will beat you about the head and shoulders with an unbated ablative absolute.'

‘Father, that was an accident! I meant to -‘

‘Excuses. Let's hear number four.'

‘Commandment number four. Go to church on Sundays. Smile and be pleasant but don't be too smarmily a hypocrite. Don't let my children, if and when I have any, play out in front on Sunday or make too much noise out the back. Support the church by deeds and money but not too conspicuously.'

‘Maureen, that's well put. You'll be a preacher's wife yet.'

‘Oh, God, Father, I'd rather be a whore!'

‘The two are not incompatible. Continuez, ma chère enfante.'

‘Mais oui, mon cher papa. Honour thy father and thy mother where anyone can see you. But once you leave home, live your own life. Don't let them lead you around by the nose. Mon papa, you phrased that one yourself... and I don't like it much. I do honour you, because I want to. And I don't have anything against Mother; we just don't sing in the same key. But I'm grateful to her.'

‘Avoid gratitude, my dear; it can sour your stomach. After you marry and I'm dead, are you going to invite Adele to move in with you?'

‘Uh -‘ I stopped, unable to answer.

‘Think about it. Think it through carefully, in advance... because any answer you make in a hurry while my grave is still fresh is certain to be a wrong answer. Next item:

‘Thou shalt not commit murder. "Murder" means killing somebody wrongfully. Other sorts of killing come in several flavours and each sort must be analysed. I'm still working on this one, Father.'

So am I. Just bear in mind that a person who eats meat is on the same moral level as the butcher.'

‘Yes, sir. Thou shalt not get caught committing adultery... and that means don't get pregnant, don't catch a social disease, don't let Mrs Grundy even suspect you, and above all don't let your spouse find out; it would make him most unhappy... and he could divorce you. Father, I don't think I would ever be tempted by adultery. If God had intended a woman to have more than one man he would have supplied more men... instead of just enough to go around.'

‘Who intended? I didn't catch the name.'

‘I said "God" but you know what I mean!'

‘I do indeed. You are indulging in theology; I would rather see you take laudanum. Maureen, when anyone talks about God's will or God's intentions or Nature's intentions if he is afraid to say "God", I know at once that he is selling a gold brick. To himself, in some cases, as you were just doing. To read a moral law into the fact that about as many males are born as females is to make too much stew from one oyster; it's as slippery as Post hoc, propter hoc.

‘As for your belief that you will never be tempted, here you are, barely dry behind the ears and only a year past first onset of menses... and you think you know all there is to know about the perils of sex... just as every girl your age throughout history has thought. So go right ahead. Jump the fence with your eyes closed. Break your husband's heart and ruin his pride. Shame your children. Be a scandal in the public square. Get your tubes filed with pus, then let some butcher cut them out in some dirty back room with no ether. Go right ahead, Maureen. Count the world well lost for love. For that's what sloppy adultery can get you: the world lost all right and an early grave and children who will never speak your name.'

‘But, Father, I was saying that I must shun adultery; it's too dangerous. I think I can manage it.' I smiled at him and recited:

‘"There was a young lady named Wilde - "'

Father picked it up: