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

278 Olga Triumphant
On the twentieth, she traveled to London for a private viewing of
Gaudier’s Hieratic Head at Anthony d’O√ay’s studio on New Bond Street:
‘‘remarkably clean, white, absolute—on a square base—nothing else in the
room.’’ The next day, nephew Peter motored in from Norfolk to join her
as Sir Alan Bowness’s luncheon guest at the Tate Gallery. Olga ordered
trout: ‘‘I haven’t had since He fished them in Friuli.’’
On the tenth anniversary of Ezra’s death—All Saint’s Day—Giorgio
Manera went with her to the memorial at St. George’s Church and after to
San Michele. They joined the crowds of Venetians going to decorate the
graves of their loved ones on the Day of the Dead when the ferries are
free.
At Christmas, Olga again fulfilled her role as mother, grandmother and
great-grandmother, at Brunnenburg. Walter met her in Bolzano and escorted
her to the Schloss, where she was ensconced in the tower room with
a magnificent view of the Alps. Her great-grandchild Michael Ezra was, to
her eyes, ‘‘a fine baby, up to standard, amiable, and cousins, ditto.’’ Walter
awakened her in the morning with ‘‘a heavy tray, and the freshest egg I’ve
ever eaten since grandmother first learned to suck eggs in 1895!’’ After
lunch, he walked her through the agricultural museum over the sheep
sheds, and a ‘‘very ingenious arrangement’’ of rooms for the students from
St. Andrew’s College. A tempting swing, which ‘‘grandma’’ took a turn on,
brought to mind Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses: ‘‘Oh,
how I like to go up in a swing / Up in the sky so blue / Oh, I do think it the
pleasantest thing / Ever a child could do.’’ ‘‘I have a vague remembrance
[of ] the tune. Teddy, ‘Babs’ [Arthur] and I had a happy childhood. [I] am
glad to see Demian, Cyril and Michael Ezra having one, too.’’
At supper, more visitors, and Brigit was ‘‘a very elegant padrona di
casa.’’ Olga changed into party clothes—a black dress worn with a red
sweater, her gift to Ezra—for the Christmas tree with real candles and the
traditional opening of presents. She had not forgotten the lost art of
flirting, and found Graziella’s husband ‘‘physically the best specimen . . .
seen for a long time.’’
Robert Hughes, a young symphony conductor, called from California
early in the new year to request Olga’s presence in San Francisco March 24
at the dress rehearsal of Le Testament de Villon, followed by luncheon with