Robert Frost writes in confidence to John T. Bartlett, his longtime family friend, about how recent literary fame has changed both his creative work and his interpersonal relationships.
c. 24 April 1915
Bethlehem
Dear John,
There seems to be nothing to talk about on my side but the winning subject of the fortunes of my book [North of Boston]. Some day there will be an end of that. You can’t wonder that is it a good deal on my mind with a review appearing every few days and letters coming in from all quarters. I wish I could describe the state I have been thrown into. I suppose you could call it one of pleasurable scorn when it is not one of scornful scorn. The thought that gets me is that at magazine rates there is about a thousand dollars worth of poetry in N.O.B. that I might have had last winter if the people who love me now had loved me then. Never you doubt that I gave them the chance to love me. What, you ask, has come over them to change their opinion of me? And the answer is What? —Doubtless you saw my countenance displayed in The [Boston] Herald one day. The Transcript will [do] me next. The literary editor of the Chicago Post writes to say that I may look for two columns of loving kindness in The Post in a day or two. It is not just naught—say what you will. One likes best to write poetry and one knew that he did that before one got even one’s reputation. Still one can’t pretend not to like to win the game. One can’t help thinking a little of Number One.
I couldn’t or wouldn’t go into all this with anyone else as I am inclined to go into it with you. I feel as if it couldn’t hurt you, (you are no fool) and may even do you some good. I want you to see young what a thing it is. Not that I’m on exhibition as a very terrible example—more as an amusing and edifying example. I don’t say that any one should actually be warned to avoid my mistakes. But there they are for anyone to avoid who likes to and knows how to.
You alone of my American friends haven’t wished me a pot of money out of my poetry. Is it because you are too wise or because you have too good taste or because you are too unworldly to have thought of it. And yet I need money as I suspect you may yourself.
Are you saving your talk of plans for when I am South again in a week or two? Say any thing you choose that comes into your head without fear of actual hurt to me. Write it, John. It will give me something to think of.
Affectionately Rob
FURTHER READING
An insightful reading into Frost’s poems, composed to correlate with his centennial birth-year, can be found here
Click here to watch two lectures dedicated to Robert Frost’s poetics, available through Yale Open Courses