Olga Rudge & Ezra Pound: "What Thou Lovest Well..."

256 The Last Ten Years
On the sixteenth, the ‘‘usual free fight to get him under the shower and
dressed—how long can my strength last?’’
The twentieth dawned cold and grey, and Ezra was in bed all day. Their
neighbor Mary Jane Phillips-Matz came in the evening, and Olga noted
that Ezra got in some good conversation about the Hirshhorn Museum in
Washington and the National Cathedral (a member of Mary Jane’s family
had designed the stained-glass windows). The ‘‘Nobel Prize [has] been
and gone,’’ Olga wrote—‘‘not that E. ever spoke of it, but people did.’’ His
grandson Walter said of Pound at the end of his life, ‘‘He was like Oedipus
at Colonnus—beyond grief.’’
Telegrams of good wishes for Ezra’s birthday were arriving. The notebook
entry for October 29 read: ‘‘Very foggy, also rain. [Ezra took] a glass
of boiling water at 5, drops of Guttolax at 9 a.m. Cup of black co√ee. No
fever. Later, passata di legume, cups of apple water, apple puree. Fever [in
the] afternoon (37.2 1/2 C). E. wet all day. 10g. Guttolax last thing.’’
On October 30, Ezra’s last birthday, Olga jotted: ‘‘7 a.m., no results
from Guttolax, a demi-tasse cafe. Broth with pastine at teatime.’’ The
artist Guido Cadorin, still groggy from a recent heart operation to install a
pacemaker, came with a little pupil; Lisalotte and Manfredo, Joan Fitzgerald,
the Bernard Hickeys, the Chris Cooleys, Rosso Mazzinghi, Lotte
Frumi soon after. Peter Russell brought a poem. Ambrosini sent flowers
and sweets. Lester Littlefield, a bag of goodies from Fauchon’s.
There was plenty of champagne, Olga remembered. Ezra was lying on
the bed in apricot pajamas under an apricot blanket. Olga was firm about
not allowing more than two at a time to go up. She took the supper tray to
Ezra at 8:30, when the Ivanciches went to Cici’s to get sandwiches for the
guests. (A waiter came back with a complete birthday dinner.) Ezra,
unassisted, blew out all eighty-seven candles on the cake. After getting
Peter Russell and Chris Cooley to leave at quarter to ten, Olga was still
cleaning up at 12:30, too tired to sleep.
On October 31, she threw the I Ching as always, first thing in the
morning. ‘‘hsieh = Deliverance’’ was the prophetic message of the hexagram.
Ezra felt considerable discomfort in his stomach, but no great pain.
The congestion continued all day until late that night, when Olga became
alarmed and called the ambulance boat to take Ezra to the municipal