MAGGIE: C’mon Hilda don’t fret.
HILDA: Yes, I am still trying to get into the Conservatory, although my chances are probably worse than ever.
MAGGIE: They don’t want pregnant women in the Conservatory.
HILDA: I didn’t tell them. I lied about it.
MAGGIE: Didn’t they ask you?
HILDA: No they forgot to ask me and I didn’t tell them.
MAGGIE: Well then it’s hardly on that account that—
HILDA: I felt they knew.
MAGGIE: The Conservatory is hostile to the new spirit, the new spirit is not liked there.
HILDA: Well Maggie it’s a blow nevertheless. I had to go back to my house.
MAGGIE: Where although you entertain the foremost artists and intellectuals of your time you grow progressively more despondent and depressed.
HILDA: Yes he was a frightful lawyer.
MAGGIE: Lover?
HILDA: That too, frightful. He said he could not get me into the Conservatory because of my unimportance.
MAGGIE: Was there a fee?
HILDA: There’s always a fee. Pounds and pounds.
MAGGIE: I stood on the terrace at the rear of the Conservatory and studied the flagstones reddened with the lifebloods of generations of Conservatory students. Standing there I reflected: Hilda will never be admitted to the Conservatory.
HILDA: I read the Conservatory Circular and my name was not among those listed.
MAGGIE: Well I suppose it was in part your espousal of the new spirit that counted against you.
HILDA: I will never abjure the new spirit.
MAGGIE: And you’re a veteran too, I should have thought that would have weighed in your favor—
(Sound: Fragment of chamber music, slow: four seconds)
MAGGIE: And yet with my really wizard! good humor and cheerful thoughtless air, I have caused a lot of trouble.
HILDA: I suppose that’s true. Strictly speaking.
MAGGIE: Bounding into the woods on all fours barking like a mother biting at whatever moves in front of me—
HILDA: Do you also save string?
MAGGIE: On my free evenings and paid holidays. Making the most of the time I have here on this earth. Knotting, sewing, weaving, welding.
HILDA: Naming babies, Lou, Lew, Louis.
MAGGIE: And his toes, wonderful toes, that man has got toes.
HILDA: Decorated with rings and rubber bands.
MAGGIE: Has a partiality for white. White gowns, shifts, aprons, flowers, sauces.
HILDA: He was a salty dog all right. Salty dog.
MAGGIE: I was out shooting with him once, pheasant, he got one, with his fancy shotgun. The bird bursting like an exploding pillow.
(Sound: Someone brushing teeth vigorously)
HILDA: Have to stand there and watch them, their keen eyes scanning the whatever. And then say “Good shot!”
MAGGIE: Oh I could have done better, better, I was lax.
(Sound: Repeat of above)
HILDA: Or worse, don’t fret about it, could have put your cute little butt in worse places, in thrall to dismaler personalities.
(Sound: Sewing machine starting and stopping; eight seconds)
MAGGIE: I was making an effort. What I do best.
(Sound: Guillotine blade falling)
HILDA: You are excellent at it. Really first-rate.
MAGGIE: Never fail to knock myself out. Put pictures on the walls and pads under the rugs.
HILDA: I really admire you. I really do. To the teeth.
MAGGIE: Bust your ass, it’s the only way.
HILDA: As we learn from studying the careers of all the great figures of the past. Heraclitus and Launcelot du Lac.
MAGGIE: Polish the doorknobs with Brasso and bring in the sea bass in its nest of seaweed.
HILDA: And not only that. And not only that.
MAGGIE: Tickling them when they want to be tickled. Refraining, when they do not.
HILDA: Large and admirable men. Not neglecting the small and ignoble. Dealing evenhandedly with every situation on a case-by-case basis.
MAGGIE: Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
HILDA: Knew a guy wore his stomach on his sleeve. I dealt with the problem using astrology in its medical aspects. His stomach this, his stomach that. God almighty but it was tiresome, tiresome in the extreme. I dealt with it by using astrology in its medical aspects.
MAGGIE: To each his own. Handmade bread and individual attention.
HILDA: You’ve got to have something besides yourself. A cat, too often.
MAGGIE: I could have done better but I was dumb. When you’re young you’re sometimes dumb.
HILDA: Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah. I remember.
(Sound: Door slamming)
MAGGIE: Well let’s have a drink.
HILDA: Well I don’t mind if I do.
MAGGIE: I have Goldwasser, Bombay gin, and Old Jeb.
HILDA: Well I wouldn’t mind a scotch myself.
(Sound: Door slamming)
MAGGIE: I have that too.
HILDA: Growing older and with age, less beautiful.
MAGGIE: Yeah I’ve noticed that. Losing your glow.
HILDA: Just gonna sit in the wrinkling house and wrinkle. Get older and worse.
MAGGIE: Once you lose your glow you never get it back.
HILDA: Sometimes by virtue of the sun roaring through the leaves of the trees on a summer’s day.
MAGGIE: Wrinkling you so that you look like a roast turkey.
HILDA: As in the case with the Oni of Ife. Saw him on television.
MAGGIE: Wrinkled and wrinkled and wrinkled.
HILDA: Let me show you this picture.
MAGGIE: Yes that’s very lovely. What is it?
HILDA: It’s Vulcan and Maia.
MAGGIE: Yes. He’s got his hooks into her. She’s struggling to get away.
HILDA: Vigorously? Vigorously. Yes.
MAGGIE: Who’s the artist?
HILDA: Spranger.
MAGGIE: Never heard of him.
HILDA: Well.
MAGGIE: Yes, you may hang it. Anywhere you like. On that wall or that wall or that wall or that wall.
HILDA: Thank you.
MAGGIE: Probably I can get ahead by working hard, paying attention to detail.
HILDA: I thought that. Once I thought that.
MAGGIE: Reading a lot of books and having good ideas.
HILDA: Well that’s not bad. I mean it’s a means.
MAGGIE: Do something wonderful. I don’t know what.
HILDA: Like a bass player plucking the great thick strings of his instrument with powerful plucks.
MAGGIE: Blood vessels bursting in my face just under the skin all the while.
HILDA: Hurt by malicious criticisms all very well grounded.
MAGGIE: For Leatherheart, I turn my back. My lustrous, abundant back.
HILDA: That cracks them up does it?
MAGGIE: At least they know I’m in town.
HILDA: Ease myself into bed of an evening brain jumping with hostile fluids.
MAGGIE: It’s black beans in a pot.
HILDA: It’s confetti in the swimming pool.
MAGGIE: It’s U-joints in the vichyssoise.
HILDA: It’s staggers under the moon.
(Sound: Four identical bass fiddle notes, plucked; rapid)
MAGGIE: He told me terrible things in the evening of that day as we sat side by side holding hands waiting for the rain to wash the watercolors from his watercolor paper. Waiting for the rain to wash the paper clean, quite clean.
HILDA: Took me by the hand and led me through all the rooms. Many rooms.
MAGGIE: I know all about it.
HILDA: The kitchen is especially splendid.
MAGGIE: Quite so.
HILDA: A dozen Filipinos with trays.
MAGGIE: Close to that figure.
HILDA: Trays with edibles. Wearables. Readables. Collectibles.
MAGGIE: Ah, you’re a fool. A damned fool.
HILDA: I?
MAGGIE: Goodbye, madame. Dip if you will your hand in the holy-water font as you leave, and attend as well to the poorbox just to the right of the door.
HILDA: Figs and kiss-me-nots. I would meet you upon this honestly.
MAGGIE: I went far beyond the time normally allotted for a speaker.
HILDA: In Mexico City. Wearing the black jacket with the silver conchos. And trousers of fire pink.
MAGGIE: Visited a health club there, my rear looked like two pocketbooks, they worked on it.
HILDA: You were making an effort.
MAGGIE: Run in the mornings too, take green tea at noon, study household management, finance, repair of devices.
HILDA: Born with a silver hoe in your mouth.
MAGGIE: Yes. Got to get going, got to make some progress.
HILDA: Followed by the development of head banging in the child.
(Sound: Bass fiddle notes as before)
MAGGIE: I went far beyond the time normally allotted to, or for, a speaker.
(Sound: Bass fiddle)
MAGGIE: It is fair to say they were enthralled.
(Sound: Bass fiddle)
MAGGIE: And transfixed.
(Sound: Bass fiddle)
MAGGIE: Inappropriate laughter at some points but I didn’t mind that.
HILDA: Did the Eminence arrive?
MAGGIE: In a cab. In his robes of scarlet.
HILDA: He does a tough Eminence.
MAGGIE: Yes very tough. I was allowed to kiss the ring. He sat there, in the audience, just like another member of the audience. Just like anybody. Transfixed and enthralled.
HILDA: Whirling and jigging in the red light and throwing veils on the floor and throwing gloves on the floor . . .
MAGGIE: One of my finest. They roared for ten minutes.
HILDA: I am so proud of you. Again and again. Proud of you.
MAGGIE: Oh well, yes. I agree. Quite right. Absolutely.
HILDA: What? Are you sure? Are you quite sure? Let me show you this picture.
MAGGIE: Yes, that’s quite grand. What is it?
HILDA: It’s Tancred Succored by Ermina.
MAGGIE: Yes she’s sopping up the blood there, got a big rag, seems a sweet girl, God he’s out of it isn’t he, dead or dying horse at upper left. . . Who’s the artist?
HILDA: Ricchi.
MAGGIE: Never heard of him.
HILDA: Well.
MAGGIE: I’ll take it. You may stack it with the others, against that wall or that wall or that wall or that wall. . .
HILDA: Thank you. Where shall I send the bill?
MAGGIE: Send it anywhere you like. Anywhere your little heart desires.
HILDA: Well I hate to be put in this position. Bending and subservient.
MAGGIE: Heavens! I’d not noticed. Let me raise you up.
HILDA: Maybe in a few days. A few days or a few years.
MAGGIE: Lave you with bee jelly and bone oil.
HILDA: And if I have ever forgiven you your astonishing successes—
MAGGIE: Mine.
HILDA: And if I have ever been able to stomach your serial triumphs . . .
(Sound: Door slamming)
MAGGIE: The sky. A rectangle of gray in the foreground and behind that, a rectangle of puce. And behind that, a square of silver-gilt.
HILDA: Got to get it together, get the big bucks.
MAGGIE: Yes I’m thinking hard, thinking hard.
HILDA: Frolic and detour.
MAGGIE: What’s that mean?
HILDA: I don’t know it’s just a bit of legal language I picked up somewhere.
MAGGIE: Now that I take a long look at you—
HILDA: In the evening by the fireside—
MAGGIE: I find you utterly delightful. Abide with me. We’ll have little cakes with smarm, yellow smarm on them—
HILDA: Yes I just feel so fresh and free here. One doesn’t feel that way every day, or every week.
(Sound: Landslide, as before)
MAGGIE: Last night (pause) at two (pause) the barking dog in the apartment above (pause) stopped barking. Its owners (pause) had returned. I went into the kitchen (pause) and barked through the roof (pause) for an hour. I believe (pause) I was understood.
HILDA (police voice): Man down. Corner of Water and Eight Nine.
MAGGIE: Another wallow?
HILDA: I’ve wallowed for today thank you. Control is the thing.
MAGGIE: Control used to be the thing. Now, abandon.
HILDA: I’ll never achieve abandon.
MAGGIE: Work hard and concentrate. Try Clown, Baby, Hellhag, Witch, the Laughing Cavalier. The Lord helps those—
HILDA: Purple bursts in my face as if purple staples had been stapled there every which way.
MAGGIE: Flurt by malicious criticisms all very well grounded.
HILDA: Oh that clown band. Oh its sweet strains.
MAGGIE: The sky. A rectangle of glister. Behind which, a serene brown. A yellow bar, vertical, in the upper right.
(Sound: Fabric tearing; four seconds)
MAGGIE: I love you, Gottlieb, quite exceptionally.
HILDA: By gum I think you mean it. I think you do.
MAGGIE: It’s Portia Wounding Her Thigh.
HILDA: It’s Wolfram Looking at His Wife Whom He Has Imprisoned with the Corpse of Her Lover.
MAGGIE: If you need a friend I’m yours till the end.
(Sound: Fabric tearing; four seconds)
HILDA: Your gracious and infinitely accommodating presence. (Pause) It’s said that they import a cook, on feast days.
MAGGIE: They have naked models too.
HILDA: Do you really think so? I’m not surprised.
MAGGIE: The best students get their dinners sent up on trays.
HILDA: Do you really think so? I’m not surprised.
MAGGIE: Grain salads and large portions of choice meats.
HILDA: Oh it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
MAGGIE: Bread with drippings, and on feast days, cake.
HILDA: I’m as gifted as they are, I’m as gifted as some of them.
MAGGIE: Decisions made by a committee of ghosts. They drop black beans or white beans into a pot.
HILDA: Once I thought I was to be admitted. There were encouraging letters.
MAGGIE: You’re not Conservatory material I’m afraid. Only the best material is Conservatory material.
HILDA: I’m as good as some of those who rest now in the soft Conservatory beds.
MAGGIE: Merit is always considered closely.
HILDA: I could smile back at the smiling faces of the swift, dangerous teachers.
MAGGIE: Yes, we have naked models. No, the naked models are not emotionally meaningful to us.
HILDA: I could work with clay or paste things together.
MAGGIE: Yes, sometimes we paste things on the naked models—clothes, mostly. Yes, sometimes we play our Conservatory violins, cellos, trumpets for the naked models, or sing to them, or correct their speech, as our deft fingers fly over the sketch pads. . .
HILDA: I suppose I could fill out another application, or several.
MAGGIE: Yes, you have considerable of a belly on you now. I remember when it was flat, flat as a book.
HILDA: I will die if I don’t get into the Conservatory, die.
MAGGIE: Naw you won’t you’re just saying that.
HILDA: I will completely croak if I don’t get into the Conservatory, I promise you that.
MAGGIE: Things are not so bad, you can always do something else, I don’t know what, c’mon Hilda be reasonable.
HILDA: My whole life depends on it.
MAGGIE (elegiac): Oh God I remember when it was flat. Didn’t we tear things up, though? I remember running around that town, and hiding in dark places, that was a great town and I’m sorry we left it.
HILDA: Now we are grown, grown and proper.
MAGGIE: Well, I misled you. The naked models are emotionally meaningful to us.
HILDA: T
hey are?
MAGGIE: We love them and sleep with them all the time—before breakfast, after breakfast, during breakfast.
HILDA: Why that’s all right!
MAGGIE: Why that’s rather neat!
HILDA: I like that!
MAGGIE: That’s not so bad!
(Sound: Sleigh bells; fifteen seconds)
HILDA: I wish you hadn’t told me that.
MAGGIE: C’mon Hilda don’t be so single-minded, there are lots of other things you can do if you want.
HILDA: I guess they operate on some kind of principle of exclusivity. Keeping some people out while letting other people in.
MAGGIE: We got a Coushatta Indian in there, real full-blooded Coushatta Indian.
HILDA: In there?
MAGGIE: Yes. He does hanging walls out of scraps of fabric and twigs, very beautiful, and he does sand paintings and plays on whistles of various kinds, sometimes he chants, and he bangs on a drum, works in silver, and he’s also a weaver, and he translates things from Coushatta into English and from English into Coushatta and he’s also a crack shot can bulldog steers and catch catfish on trotlines and ride bareback and make medicine out of common ingredients, aspirin mostly, and he sings and he’s also an actor. He’s very talented.
HILDA: My whole life depends on it.
MAGGIE: Listen Hilda maybe you could be an Associate. We have this deal whereby you pay twelve bucks a year and that makes you an Associate. You get the Circular and have all the privileges of an Associate.
HILDA: What are they?
MAGGIE: You get the Circular.
HILDA: That’s all?
MAGGIE: Well I guess you’re right.
HILDA: Oh.
MAGGIE (Pause): Your distress is poignant to me.
HILDA: HI have the baby right here.
MAGGIE: Well maybe there’ll be good news one of these days.
HILDA: I feel like a dead person sitting in a chair.
MAGGIE: You’re still pretty and attractive.
(Sound: Breaking glass)
HILDA: That’s good to hear, I’m pleased you think that.
MAGGIE: And warm you’re warm you’re very warm.
HILDA: I am warm. Warm.
MAGGIE: Weren’t you in the Peace Corps also years ago?
HILDA: I was and drove ambulances too down in Nicaragua.
MAGGIE: The Conservatory life is just as halcyon as you imagine it—precisely so.
(Sound: Breaking glass)
HILDA: I guess I’ll just have to go back to my house and clean up, take out the papers and the trash.
The Teachings of Don B. Page 23