Marianne Moore, the great twentieth century poet, writes here to Ezra Pound, fellow poet and friend. The letter is playful and intimate—Moore alludes to the little goat figure she sent Pound with this letter when she teases that he has “got [her] goat.”
June 10, 1949
Dear Ezra:
When I next hear from Dudley Huppler, I shall tell him I gave you the drawings and what you say and he will be in an ecstasy. He thirsts to come to New York but has not the money. He is thirty—by now 31—“self-taught,” had a first show at the Art Institute, Chicago a year ago, and works (I infer from his stationary) in a florist’s shop. He writes well too.
Have you, a French Brooks Adams La Loi de la Civilisation et de la Décadence? I am in communication with Adrienne Monnier (La Mason des Amis des Livres, 7 rue de l’Odéon) and shall try to get it for you if you still want it? It is trying to me to have people give me what is not what they hope, but a burden to me, so I ask. And I would get her to send you a Pléiades La Fontaine (fables) if you don’t object to the small print. I dote on it and would like you to be able to discard that disaffecting Brentano copy I sent you. Mr. Schiffrin, the designer, is a captive of Pantheon Books at present; i.e. The Bollinger F. (a friend of Edward Kauffer’s—quelq’un to talk to. This you may know.—disabled by asthma, however). (Edward Kauffer has just heard from you and said “I must see the dear man.”)
Literally, you have got my goat; I can’t deny it.
But as you’d reach a ripe old age,
Judge no one by his countenance.
Book VI: V (I believe this is under the ban)
Or circumstances by appearance.
I don’t know whether my lavender-cajeput-thymol spray repels or attracts insects but am sending you some. (I am as my brother says, impetuous, for on telephoning the druggist about this, he says “it repels them.”) Am also getting you a dark blue fish-net bag about a half-a-foot in size for carrying triffles to the yard. If it seems effeminate or as much trouble as the articles themselves, let Mrs. Pound find a recipient. It is scarcely august enough for her to use on trips to the Hospital. I wish I could be of some service to her. I have been thinking about this and don’t get very far. You have scores of friends—not scores as good as your animal-friends, but scores to somewhat sweeten their environs. You must not be profane, Ezra, without cause; or penny wise (no pun intended). Not to be in context where one belongs is misleading. I hope you will let context be your deciding factor for passages by M. D. Z. When The Dial was mentioned, I could have said a good deal that I didn’t and for all I know, Mr. Z. was helpless at the time you suffered from his myopia. Impoverished by hospital bills and taking care of his sister (subject to a brain tumor as I told you) does not conduce to lavish remuneration
M. M.
Although I enclose you grass for the goat, such pets are not immortal and can be buried under some tree with no loss to anyone. I got it at a little Oriental pottery-shop in 1918 on a table with a placard in the middle: “formally 30 cents.”