Must You Go_ - Antonia Fraser [129]
In retrospect, this evening with its magical evocations of Harold’s works, his acclaim in France, and salutation for his political views, was the high point of what one might term his endgame. Medical problems continued, to be counterbalanced by a constant flow of productions, as it seemed. The National Theatre put on The Hothouse, the Donmar put on Betrayal, Matthew Burton did a brilliant production of The Dumb Waiter … and so on and so on, I am glad to say. So we began to say things like: ‘It’s July and, rats, there isn’t a Pinter production in town. What will people do?’ Nor was this flush of success confined to the UK. In the autumn a sensational production of The Homecoming in New York, with Eve Best as Ruth, created a sensation and Harold, although unable to travel, felt a genuine regret for once at not being able physically (not psychologically) to go to the US.
Our lives became concentrated on the pleasures we could have together: for example we had long been fans of Anselm Kiefer since our ‘discovery’ of him at MOMA in New York: his work with what Harold felt was a ‘literary’ content as well as a poetic one, was absolutely up his street. We managed to get to the White Cube Gallery: the experience was fabulous if short, because Harold couldn’t lean against the walls, which were all part of Kiefer’s installation, although finally a friendly young receptionist surrendered her seat. I decide that I would take the image of the huge uprooted palm with me to Mass on Palm Sunday. Downstairs we saw battlegrounds where flowers now grew. But, as Harold said, ‘for how long will they be allowed to grow?’
In general Harold spent most of his time in his chair in the drawing room reading – anything, poetry first choice, but also political works. He also spent a lot of time admiring the magnolia outside the window as it flowered, and he declined. And all the time there was the eczema, the irritations, the visits, the check-ups.
And yet:
9 March
Harold played the part of Max in The Homecoming, directed by Thea Sharrock on Radio 3. Gina McKee, even on radio, the slinkiest Ruth yet: I was amused to see how she swapped her trainers for high heels at Harold’s request, ‘for atmosphere’. Now he should do King Lear on Radio 3. Oddly enough Ian Rickson, director of Krapp had already suggested it.
23 March
Read in a self-help column by Lesley Garner of the Telegraph, five things to do when you’re depressed. Number One was: Do something. Don’t just sit there. I was low because Harold was having a bad day health-wise so, without reading on, I dashed off to the Philip Mould Gallery to look at newly installed portrait of Queen Elizabeth I. Solaced myself admiring her pearls which were everywhere. Philip Mould had recently entertained boys from William Fraser’s school and they too had admired the portrait. Philip: ‘I think that object-related history is so much easier to grasp, don’t you?’ I entirely agree. So much of my work is in fact ‘object-related history’. Decided to involve Harold in it too.
9 April
Harold came with me on my special ‘Tudor tour’ of the National Portrait Gallery, arranged with Tarnya Cooper. It was a success not so much because it filled Harold with a desire to be a Tudor historian (one is enough in a family) as in igniting his interest in my world. Throughout the rest of the day he kept referring to ‘your world … the word which you inhabit’. And he actively loved the John Donne portrait of which he had previously seen a reproduction. Donne is after all among the many poets who believed in God that Harold (the soi-disant atheist) fervently admires, reads and is able to quote at length.
After Harold’s death I abandoned my projected life of Queen Elizabeth I. All the same, it had served its purpose: the fascinating research had enriched my life even if I felt finally