IN THE MIDST of one of the most destructive wars in the
history of mankind, Ezra Pound remained true to his calling.
While fifty million human beings were dying by violence, he went
down to Rome and read his poems over the international wireless.
And, as he had been doing all of his life, he interspersed his poetry
with blistering invective against politicians and usurers.

He was the only Bohemian of the Second World War. In a
world gone mad, he continued to cry out, "Stop it! Stop it!" He
has never raised his hand against another human being.

Pound was duly indicted for treason, but the chief complaint
against him seems to have been that he refused to take part in the
slaughter. While so many millions were dipping their hands in
blood, he asked only for peace.

His purpose was serious, although the result was disastrous for
him. The fury against Pound, which is still unabated in many quar-
ters, stems from the fact that he refused to become a barbarian.
Almost alone of Western men, he has no blood on his conscience.

It was not a crime to remain a poet during the war, and, in its
essentials, this is what he did. The war was characterized by
the most brutal outrages against civilians ever recorded by civilized
man. Pound was past the age of military service; as an American
citizen residing abroad, he could have remained peacefully im-
mobilized there throughout the war, as did his friend George

-201-