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

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

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18 Julia and Her Daughter<br />

indicating the closeness of their relationship and the major role she played<br />

in <strong>Olga</strong>’s life.<br />

My darling girlie: Let me tell you out of my own experience that<br />

when you feel inclined to find fault with circumstances, that the<br />

best thing to do is work. I have been through so many years of<br />

ennui and disappointment, and if I had only had someone to show<br />

me how to make my conditions or surroundings, instead of letting them<br />

make me, I should have been saved much su√ering. Make your<br />

music your first duty. Concentrate on it and try to love even the<br />

drudging of it. Then use it (when you can play even a few bars<br />

properly) to drive away the little devils of unrest which are always<br />

trying to upset us.<br />

<strong>Olga</strong>’s reply indicated that she had recovered her high spirits and was<br />

following her mother’s advice: ‘‘Could you send me some violin strings?<br />

Mine have broken. Madame said I was glad they were broken, but . . . I’m<br />

not spoilt, am I? All the girls say I am.’’<br />

<strong>Olga</strong> made her First Communion at St. Anthony’s Convent School on<br />

June 29, 1905, and it was of such importance to her that—sometime<br />

after her eightieth birthday—she recreated the events of that day in her<br />

notebook.<br />

My mother had made me a dress and sent it from New York: short,<br />

long-waisted, with a sash, and with insertions and edging of real<br />

lace (she must have bought it in Belgium and treasured it), with<br />

fine tucks. [I wore] a white tulle veil under a wreath of white roses<br />

from the convent garden. . . .<br />

Madame Anselm came into the room . . . to see me get into my<br />

dress, that I was looking forward to with joy—not vanity. [She]<br />

suggested it would be a fitting sacrifice if I did not look at myself in<br />

the long mahogany-framed swinging mirror, and turned it back to<br />

front! So I never enjoyed what my mother had done with such care<br />

for me. I have no idea what I looked like, but I took pleasure . . . in<br />

renouncing vanity.

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