Peter Montgomery wrote:
> Further to the below which I didn't receive, one
> should comment that Eliot also took on Pound for many of the same reasons
> in AFTER STRANGE GODS. That resulted in an extended exchange
> of letters in literary organs at the time. Pound was very resentful.

I went to look up Eliot said of Pound in ASG. There were some nice
things and some criticism that doesn't look like it would cause too
much resentment between friendly critics (but maybe the rift had
already started and Pound was already on the edge.)  Anyway, most of
the mention of Pound by name occurs in the two sequential paragraphs
that I include below.  I don't have a copy of the book but my source
has these paragraphs appearing on what I take to be pages 40-42 of ASG.

    Rick Parker

   The name of Irving Babbitt instantly suggests that of Ezra Pound
(his peer in cosmopolitanism) and that of I. A. Richards: it would
seem that Confucius is the spiritual adviser of the highly educated
and fastidious, in contrast to the dark gods of Mexico. Mr. Pound
presents the closest counterpart to Irving Babbitt. Extremely
quick-witted and very learned, he is attracted to the Middle Ages,
apparently, by everything except that which gives them their
significance. His powerful and narrow post-Protestant prejudice peeps
out from the most unexpected places: one can hardly read the erudite
notes and commentary to his edition of Guido Cavalcanti without
suspecting that he finds Guido much more sympathetic than Dante, and
on grounds which have little to do with their respective merits as
poets: namely, that Guido was very likely a heretic, if not a sceptic
as evidenced partly by his possibly having held some pneumatic
philosophy and theory of corpuscular action which I am unable to
understand. Mr. Pound, like Babbitt, is an individualist, and still
more a libertarian.

   Mr. Pound's theological twist appears both in his poetry and his
prose; but as there are other vigorous prose writers, and as Mr. Pound
is probably the most important living poet in our language, a
reference to his poetry will carry more weight. At this point I shall
venture to generalise, and suggest that with the disappearance of the
idea of Original Sin, with the disappearance of the idea of intense
moral struggle, the human beings presented to us both in poetry and in
prose fiction to-day, and more patently among the serious writers than
in the underworld of letters, tend to become less and less real. It is
in fact in moments of moral and spiritual struggle depending upon
spiritual sanctions, rather than in those 'bewildering minutes' in
which we are all very much alike, that men and women come nearest to
being real. If you do away with this struggle, and maintain that by
tolerance, benevolence, inoffensiveness and a redistribution or
increase of purchasing power, combined with a devotion, on the part of
an Úlite, to Art, the world will be as good as anyone could require,
then you must expect human beings to become more and more
vaporous. This is exactly what we find of the society which Mr. Pound
puts in Hell, in his _Draft_of_XXX_Cantos. It consists (I may have
overlooked one or two species) of politicians, profiteers, financiers,
newspaper proprietors and their hired men, _agents_provocateurs_,
Calvin, St. Clement of Alexandria, the English, vice-crusaders, liars,
the stupid, pedants, preachers, those who do not believe in Social
Credit, bishops, lady golfers, Fabians, conservatives and
imperialists; and all 'those who have set money-lust before the
pleasures of the senses'. It is, in its way, an admirable Hell,
'without dignity, without tragedy'. At first sight the variety of
types for these are types, and not individuals may be a little
confusing; but I think it becomes a little more intelligible if we see
at work three principles, (i) the aesthetic, (2) the humanitarian, (3)
the Protestant. And I find one considerable objection to a Hell of
this sort: that a Hell altogether without dignity implies a Heaven
without dignity also. If you do not distinguish between individual
responsibility and circumstances in Hell, between essential Evil and
social accidents, then the Heaven (if any) implied will be equally
trivial and accidental. Mr. Pound's Hell, for all its horrors, is a
perfectly comfortable one for the modern mind to contemplate, and
disturbing to no one's complacency: it is a Hell for the _other_people_,
the people we read about in the newspapers, not for oneself and one's