by Sylvia Plath
Love to all,
Sylvia
TO Harriet Cooke
Thursday 29 November 1962
TLS, Private owner
Court Green
North Tawton
Devonshire
November 29
Dear Harriet,
Your letters are so dear & I was looking so forward to seeing you & Barrie & the babes that I am cast down to say I shan’t be able to come after all. I loved Connemara above any place I’ve ever been, but luck, rather fantastic luck, will get me to a London flat before Christmas, I hope. I have to go anyhow to see an eye specialist about Nick’s slightly skew eye (which I don’t think is skew but the midwife insists), & have been alone in this desolate place with the babes for almost 4 months now, so am mad for the sight of humans who can read, talk, movies, plays, galleries & all the things Ted’s “notion” of country life has kept me from. Ironically he got me down here, saying London was killing him, then packed off after I had flu. I guess he didn’t mention to Barrie I’m divorcing him for desertion & all the rest of it. My coming to Devon on Ted’s account has stopped my writing because no-one will come to be mother’s help in this desolation & the locals are all too lazy to work! So of force I must live in London to get a mother’s help so I can finish my second novel---a pot-boiler, I fear, due to my need for dough. I pray I can manage a holiday in Ireland (West) next fall again. I loved it so there I never want to go anywhere else!
The story of this flat around the corner from where we used to live is very odd. I visited Yeats tower at Ballylea* when in Ireland this August & felt weirdly at peace. Then, utterly desperate & despairing of a flat, I was stalking my old haunts in London & happened to pass by Yeats’ house in Fitzroy Road, which I’d often looked at longingly. There were builders in & a signboard out. By some miracle, London being London, I was first to apply for the maisonette & am now at draft contract stage. When I got home I said jokingly to my nurse “I’ll open a book of Yeats’ plays & get a message from him about the flat.” When I opened my eyes I was pointing to the words “Get food & wine to give you strength & courage & I will get the house ready.” How’s that. I am starting to read my Tarot cards in earnest now.
Do keep in touch with me---I so long to see you again, I remember you so vividly from that brief visit. The hero of my present novel is a painter, so I’d like to see some of Barrie’s stuff. Can I see it anywhere in London? Now I have the prospect of living where I want to, I am very happy about the divorce, freed from some very nasty people & the sort of women who live from abortion to abortion & facelift to facelift---not my sort at all. I am just dying to get to London & a mother’s help so I can finish my next novel & 2nd book of poems! Ted & I are friends as much as can be at times like this, so do you go on writing me as well! I’ll let you know my address when this (bless it!) contract is safely through & you both, & babes have a standing invitation for tea! Or squid stew! My ‘economy’ meal.
Love,
Sylvia
TO Karl Miller
Thursday 29 November 1962
TLS (draft),* Smith College
Court Green
North Tawton
Devonshire
November 29, 1962
Karl Miller, Esq.
NEW STATESMAN
Great Turnstile
London WC 1
Dear Karl,
I found LORD BYRON’S WIFE far and away the finest of that bunch you sent, so stole the 300 words or so you allotted one of the others for Annabella for it as well.*
After Christmas I should be living at 23 Fitzroy Road, N.W.1---Yeats’ house no less, plaque and all.
Yours sincerely,
Sylvia Plath
TO Michael Carey
Thursday 29 November 1962
TLS, Assumption College
Court Green
North Tawton
Devonshire
November 29, 1962
Dear Fr. Michael,
The blessing was lovely & I do feel better for it. I know why you had the ‘horrible sinking feeling’ that you called me Edith---Edith is the name of my mother-in-law. How odd of you.
I didn’t mean dissect by study, which is the process you describe as study. I meant learn by heart. The same thing happened to me with Milton; I hate him too, although by myself I did not. It was a horrid dull studious teacher did it!*
I would answer the autobiographical questions if I knew what you meant by what. Dear Father Michael, I meant above. I like it better written out, why not, it is a fine word.
Sincerely,
Sylvia
Now what is “A. A.”? Please could you bless Yeats’ house as well! I think it is coming through, & Lord knows I need it!
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Friday 14 December 1962
TLS (aerogramme), Indiana University
Friday: December 14
Dear mother,
Well, here I am! Safely in Yeats’ house! I can just about allow myself time for a cup of tea & a bit of letter writing after the immensity of the move---closing up Court Green & opening this place. And I can truly say I have never been so happy in my life. I just sit thinking Whew! I have done it, and beaming---shall I write a poem, shall I paint a floor, shall I hug a baby? Everything is such fun, such an adventure, & if I feel this way now, with everything bare & to be painted & curtains to be made etc., what will I feel when I get the flat as I dream it to be! Blessed Susan stayed with me through the move up & a day after,* so I could make innumerable dashes into town ordering & buying the most necessary things. Now I have to fix the place up so I can get babyminders in off & on & then a mother’s help to live in. We had a lovely drive up---a clear, crisp blue day. I had spent the week before in London in the terrible & fascinating smog---so thick you couldn’t see a hand ahead, which lasted the whole time I was up signing the lease & arranging innumerable details.* I arrived here to find no gas stove in & no electricity connected! As I dashed out, Susan nobly holding the babies in the car, to drive to the gas board, I left my keys in the open flat & the door blew shut! Well, it was a comedy of errors. The obliging gas boys climbed on the roof & jimmied a window & installed the stove, the Devon mover did it all by candlelight (which I had foresight to bring!) & by getting laryngitis I persuaded the electricity people to connect us up---the agents hadn’t sent them the right keys. The minute this was over, everything went swimmingly. I was dumbfounded at the people who remembered me---you too. The laundromat couple rushed up, they had been in Boston since we last met, they wanted to be remembered to you. The people at the little dairy-grocery shook hands & remembered me by name, & the nappy service man I called up remembered me & welcomed me back! Well, it was like coming home to a small loving village. I haven’t had a second to see Catherine Frankfort or Lorna Secker-Walker yet, both of whom have had new babies,* I’ve been so busy on my own with Frieda & Nick I can only work evenings at the house & writing. So the next five years of my life look heavenly---school terms in London, summer in Devon. I only pray I earn enough by then to offer the widow who owns this place so much she’ll sell it me! I feel Yeats’ spirit blessing me. Imagine, a Roman Catholic priest at Oxford, also a poet, is writing me & blessing me too! He is an American teacher-priest who likes my poems & sent me his for criticism. I thought this would please Dot!
The first letter through my door was from my publishers.* I spent last night writing a long broadcast* of all my new poems to submit to an interested man at the BBC* & have a commission to do a program on the influence of my childhood landscape---the sea. Oslo, Norway, radio* wants to translate & do my “Three Women” program set in the maternity ward & A. Alvarez the best poetry critic here thinks my second book, which I’ve just finished, should win the Pulitzer Prize. Of course it won’t, but it’s encouraging to have somebody so brilliant think so. As soon as I get my mother’s help---I hope early in Jan., I’ll finish my 2nd novel. I am writing these ‘potboilers’ under a pseudonym!
Please for God�
�s sake don’t waste another minute worrying about me. Now I’ve got rid of Ted, to whom I’ve dedicated such time & energy & for such reward, I feel my life & career can really begin. He’s taken with him the harem of barren bitches who bore me only envy & now everyone I know is good & loving. I took F & N to the Zoo Wednesday & had a heavenly time. N slept, but Frieda was thrilled. Then I took them to the Primrose Hill playground Thurs. & had fun on the swings etc. They are so happy & laughing, we have such fun. F. does her puzzle in 5 seconds, reads books with me & loves coloring. I’m going to make their bedroom---the biggest, a playroom too. I brought the Geegee horse & the favorite toys. My bedroom will be my study---it faces the rising sun, as does the kitchen. Viewed the full moon from my little ‘balcony’ in sheer joy. It is so light here. The only real job is painting the floors---I’ve ordered rugs & mats. I adore planning the furnishing. You were very wise about a double bed---I’ll get one.* I have a single on loan from Portuguese friends. The cats are being fed by friends in Devon.* I strung all my own onions & brought them, a bag of potatoes & my own apples. And a big bouquet of my own beautiful green & white holly with red berries is in my newly polished pewter set. I am so happy I just skip round. Please tell darling Dotty her blessed ‘investment’ is enabling me to furnish the flat straight out instead of poem by poem, as I’d thought. I had to pay a year’s rent in advance to get it, so was immensely grateful. You won’t be needed as a reference. I had the darlingest young solicitor at my firm do the lease business for me---we were exchanging advice about kinds of paint at the end. Everybody--Frank, Dot, Mrs. P. says you worry if I don’t write. For goodness sake, remember no news is good news & my work is so constant I barely have a second to fry a steak. Don’t make me worry about you.
Lots & lots of love to all, your happy
Sivvy
Have told Mrs. P. I would like to dedicate my 2nd novel to her. She wanted to be sure I was dedicating something to you, so I said I was dedicating my 3rd book of poems* to you---I’m dedicating the 2nd one I’ve just finished to Frieda & Nick, as many poems in it are to them, & I’m sure you approve! Don’t want Mrs. P. to feel I’m ‘expecting’ anything, though!
TO Dorothy Benotti
Friday 14 December 1962
TLS (aerogramme), Indiana University
Friday: December 14
Dear Dotty,
It was so wonderful to hear your voice over the phone, sounding just as if you were next door! I was so excited about getting the flat---everybody says it was a miracle, including my solicitor---and here I am, in my favorite house in my favorite neighborhood, happy as a clam! The children are thrilled, too. Frieda has been dying to go to the Zoo, two minutes away, & I took her & Nick Wednesday---she was fascinated by the owls that “had bottoms just like Frieda”, the lions, the new baby elephant & the penguins swimming round. She is such fun, such company, & Nick is the sturdiest handsomest little boy imagineable, he just laughs & chuckles all the time. They are so good. I put them into the same cot in the morning & all I hear is laughs, till I’ve got breakfast. I am dying to take them round to all my old friends here, all of whom have had new babies. It is like a village---so many shop people remembered me & welcomed me back! It is heaven to be surrounded by people & to know as soon as I get my phone I’ll have all sorts of friends dropping round & be able to go out. Imagine, I’ve not seen a movie for 2 years! I am just starved for fun & chat. The country is lovely in spring & summer, but my work & dearest friends are in London. Already I have two BBC broadcasts to do & a poetry reading & then this big American poetry night to produce at one of the most famous theatres here this spring, a real great job. I am delighted you think I have an English accent, Dotty. Everybody over here thinks I come from the Deep South, they think my American accent is so broad!
I am now in the little limbo between mother’s helps. My dear nurse saw me through to a day after my move, & then went on deserved holiday before she starts work as an operating theatre nurse at a children’s hospital near here this January, & as her boyfriend lives very near me, I hope to see a lot of her---I love her like a younger sister for what she’s been through with me. I was in London all through the smog making the final arrangements for a gas stove,* electricity to be connected, a phone (which takes ages here) & signing the lease. It was incredible, thick white for 5 days, you couldn’t see your hand before your face & you can imagine what it was to get round! All the busses were stopped at one point. But I did it. And then I came home & in four days did all the packing & closing up of Court Green---you can imagine what that involved! I spent a day stringing all my onions & brought a load up with a load of my own potatoes, apples, honey & holly. I am very proud of my gardening & hope to plant a lot of stuff next spring down there too & keep my bees going. I got off the leading rein on my horse just before I left & have had some heavenly rides under the moors. I hope Frieda & Nick learn to ride very young. I seem to get on with the horse I must say, & my riding mistress is very pleased. You can imagine what a relief riding has been through all this trouble & having to take on all a man’s responsibilities as well as a woman’s. Well,
I got your dear letter today & went out & bought steak & lamb chops. Now I’ve finally got here after half a year of being stuck & not knowing if I ever could manage it, I am so happy I am ravenous & eat like a horse. I hope to get off sleeping pills as soon as I get through the first week or so fixing this place up, I must say they have kept me going, otherwise I’d have been awake all night, & one is just no good without sleep. I wish you’d talk mother out of worrying! Hard work never killed anybody, & I think hardship can be a good thing. It has certainly taught me to be self-reliant, & I’m a lot happier because of it! What in heaven’s name has mother to worry about! I am fine & happy & so are the babies. It only adds to my worries to think she is worrying. Do try to set her right, Dotty. And say no news is good news. If she had any idea how hard I work, taking care of the babies, writing billions of business letters, doing writing jobs etc. she would understand I can’t be writing letters every second much as I’d like to. Now I’m settling in I shall write once a week. I am with the babies all the time & they are angels. It is good this blew up while they are so little, for while Frieda sometimes mentions daddy, Nick has never known him, & I am so happy with my new life it is contagious. The kind of people I know are good & honest & love me & the children, I am glad to get rid of the rest. I hope by the New Year to have got this place pretty well furnished & cosy & get a mother’s help to live in by then. And then I should be able to really get on with my career---it is lucky I can write at home, because then I don’t miss any of the babies’ antics. I just adore them. The navy-hooded sweat shirt sounds marvelous! I must say there is nothing like American clothes. Everybody here envies my American babies clothes. You have no notion how much your cheery letters mean! My nurse has taken some color shots of me & the babes I hope will come out – I’ll send them on as soon as they do.
Love to all –
Sivvy
TO R. G. Walford*
Friday 14 December 1962
TLS, BBC Written Archives Centre
23 Fitzroy Road
London N.W.1
December 14, 1962
R. G. Walford, Esq.
The BBC
Broadcasting House
London W.1
Dear Mr Walford,
I should be glad to have you send the Norsk Rikskringkasting, Oslo, a copy of my script THREE WOMEN. You have my general permission to send my works abroad on the above conditions without further reference to me.
Yours sincerely,
Sylvia Plath
TO Frieda Plath Heinrichs
c. mid-December 19
62*
ALS in greeting card,* Private Owner
SEASON’S GREETINGS / MEILLEURS VOEUX / FELIZ AÑO NUEVO
Lots & lots of love / from Sylvia, / Frieda & Nicholas
Have just moved into a lovely London flat for the winter.
Letter later!
S.
TO Douglas Cleverdon
Saturday 15 December 1962
TLS, BBC Written Archives Centre
23 Fitzroy Road
London N.W.1
December 15, 1962
Dear Douglas,
Thanks so much for the copies of “Three Women”.* It was lovely to have a letter from you* waiting in my new flat---did Ted tell you it is Yeats’ house, plaque and all, & that I’ve been dying to live here ever since I saw it three years ago? A fantastic series of luckinesses saw me into it, including my getting a “message” from Willy himself. The babies adore it, especially the immediate Zoo.
I’ve written up a broadcast of a selection of my new poems, with commentary, which I enclose. I do hope you like them. They are so new, none have yet been printed, although THE LONDON MAGAZINE has accepted ‘The Applicant’* and the OBSERVER has accepted ‘Ariel’.
We will be camping out a bit till I get my ancient Yeatsy floors painted & a mother’s help lured to live in and a phone, all of which I hope to accomplish by the New Year. Very warmest good wishes for now & Christmas too to you and Nest.
Sincerely,
Sylvia
(Sylvia Plath)
Douglas Cleverdon, Esq.
Features
The BBC
Broadcasting House
London W.1
*Could you have the BBC send a copy to that Australian gynecologist whose address I sent you? Thanks very much.
TO Gilbert & Marian Foster
Saturday 15 December 1962
TLS, Private owner