by Sylvia Plath
I came away last night feeling desperately eager to learn more and more. It’s so easy to be satisfied with yourself if you aren’t exposed to people farther advanced. I do feel a bit sorry for Dick, as I kept asking him to tell me about his interview results in sociology, and about what he met up with at the mental institution and all. It was a process of assimilation & taking on my part, and of necessity nothing reciprocal. But he has an amazing mind and a remarkable group of highly developed skills – dancing, skating, swimming & so on. So I felt a bit guilty to take up two days. You’ll have to admit it was a rather unselfish gesture on his part.
An amusing thing was that I missed the last train last night (at 9:05) that would have gotten me in on time – so I got a later one & will have to report to Judicial Board* here & get some sort of penalty. I was rather glad to see Dick momentarily unnerved, although he didn’t show it too visibly.
Another thing that interested me – I like the parts of his mother* I see in him – & do not like the parts of his father* (such as a hearty laugh) which crop out occasionally. All in all I had a lovely time.
I have piles of work to do this week & loads of back mail that requires long answers. So forgive me if I don’t write for a few days.
Love,
Sivvy
P.S. We do get delivery on Sundays
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 20 February 1951*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Tuesday night
Dear Mother –
At last Monday and Tuesday are over, leaving me breathing a bit easier, although I still have mountains of work to wade through, since I cut classes and slept yesterday morning, missed my classes Saturday, of course, and cut Wednesday, as I told you. I think if I get on Dean’s list, which I will, that I can get free cuts for the rest of the semester! Neat, huh?
Luckily our English theme* was postponed till next Monday – and the first quiz I’ve taken this semester came back with an A+. Mendelian laws are coming a great deal easier! I am two weeks behind in art – and am looking forward to rally day* – (Thursday) since we have no classes. They planned it just at the right time – I’d be sunk otherwise. I look so forward to hearing Bunche!* Friday night I will probably get a ticket & go to the traditional rally day show. Saturday they are having “The Rocking-Horse Winner”* at Smith movies – so I hope to dig up a few girl friends & go to that. This is our big formal Charity Ball weekend – but I didn’t want to spend any money & I need the rest. Speaking of formals, would you send up both my white & black (clean) ’cause our freshman dance is coming up soon & I do hope to get a date for that!
Although you brushed with almost hysterical gaiety over your ulcer – I am only too aware that Fran’s “demotion” was caused by trouble. I don’t want you to worry about things, mummy. Is it money? or Warren? As for money, I have good news. Marcia and I got a double-decker on the second floor and that will be $50 less for the year. (I slept in one when I visited her, and managed quite well.)
Tonight I appear before Judicial Board because of my lateness. Did I tell you that Dick took me bicycling Sunday instead of church. I’ll bet I’m one of the few girls who’s walked through the New Haven streets in sneakers three sizes too big, a boy’s dungarees & sweater & jacket, toting an old bike.
Bob Humphrey called tonight to ask if I could come home for the weekend, but I said no – so he’s probably coming up about 8 Sunday morning & we’ll hunt up some snow. The U. of. M. boy also called – so I quickly thought up another excuse. He is a sad character. (No surprises anymore.)
I was amused at Dick. He regards me as an indulgent older cousin would. He even memorized some poetry & read aloud some – as much as he does not credit emotional expression as valuable without scientific knowledge . . . or something. But from a purely selfish point of view, I enjoyed walking around & being out in the open air for a few hours. Yale is lovely. – And even being an indulged younger cousin was very enjoyable.
Another thing. Dick remarked on my “practical gabardine coat.” I enjoyed it – and would never feel quite at home in fur. Did I tell you that one girl loaned me a dear hat to wear down? My black one looked awfully out of place with the brown coat – too dressy & veiled for such a casual coat. So this hat was perfect in color & casualness – a sort of brown leopard spotted fur – quite nice & harmonizing.
And now to my J. B. meeting! Don’t forget the formals!
Love,
Sivvy
P.S. Watch out for those ulcers!
P.P.S. I’ll be getting my marks tomorrow! Wish me luck.–!
P.S. – See if you can get hold of the Feb. Smith Alumnae Quarterly* – part of my letter to Prouty got in anonymously!*
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 22 February 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Dear Mother –
Just thought you might like to know I got a 6 page letter from my favorite man today.* He sure is developing a sense of humor. Also, got a note saying I’m on DEAN’s List. So is Pat. My marks at mid-term are:
Botany – A
History – A
French – A-
Art – A- !!!!!!!
Eng – (damn) B+
I am going to work & work & work to keep it up. I just hope I can. Especially in Art & HISTORY
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 22 February 1951*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Rally Day
Thursday
Dear Mother –
I had to laugh! The three letters I got in the mail today all involved Dick in some way. One was from the formost doctor-to-be-in-the-next-decades himself, saying how glad he was that I got back all right. The second was from Ann saying she had a feeling I’d have a successful time; the other was your little diatribe. I do feel I must scold you, mummy. You have the same weakness I have---getting cross at people who show up the inadequacies of someone we love. It is so easy for me to say “I’m so mad at him” and yet the one I’m really mad at is myself for not knowing how to skate, swim, charleston or cook and sew. You see, reason shows that I’m the one to blame anyway!
As for my penalty---it is a very light sort of punishment – signing in the house at 9 PM from next Monday to Thursday! I won’t even have to miss a weekend night – and I never go out on weekdays anyway.
Bunche was excellent – spoke about danger of fear & war-talk from within – of living by democracy as well as swearing by it – of putting all efforts into helping Africa and Asia medically, economically, etc. He also said they were working at the U.N. & through the Un – & to beware of hotheaded imperialism. He was a winning, encouraging speaker. It was indeed impressive to see the ranks of white and the diagonal colored class ribbons – and the procession of professors in their colored hoods and gowns.
Marcia & I took a walk in the country today for an hour or so & came back quite muddy. Tonight I’m going to see the rally day show.
If I sounded depressed in my last letters it might have been partially weariness & partially that I seem to be having my first regular period for five months. I just hope it keeps up.
Don’t be a jealous mummy of other mummies’ offspring, now!
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Saturday 24 Februa
ry 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
SATURDAY
Dear Mum –
Just thought I’d tell you something that surprised me a bit. A senior said to me at lunch – “Congrats for being up on the College Hall Bulletin Board again”. (Smith girls in the news, you know!) So, full of curiosity I hurried over. You should have seen it – I stood for a full 5 minutes laughing. It was one of those cartoon & personality write-ups titled “Teen-Triumphs.” There was a sketch of a girl s’posed to be me – writing, also a cow. It said, & I quote: “BORN TO WRITE! Sylvia Plath, 17, really works at writing. To get atmosphere for a story about a farm she took a job as a farm hand. Now, she’s working on a sea story.” Then there’s another sketch of me saying “And I’ll get a job on a boat.” Not only that: “A national magazine has published two of her brain children! The real test of being a writer. The little Wellesley, Mass blonde has won a full scholarship to Smith College.” All this effusive stuff appeared in the Peoria Illinois Star on Jan. 23.* Beats me where they got the sea stuff. I just laughed and laughed. Illinois – hmmm.
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Wednesday 28 February 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Wednesday
Dear Mum –
Lord, I don’t think I’ve written you for a month. Say bad correspondent, but I’m getting to be one! I was quite amused by that circular from that newspaper reporter. I am convinced people make too much of “youthful” “success.” I am doubtful if I can say in all truthfulness “I was BORN TO WRITE!” I’d kind of like people to forget about it for a while. These next three weeks are to be the hardest all year, I think – what with papers, writtens and being a wee bit behind in art. But I shall probably go to Marcia’s the weekend of March 31 – so could you tell me what plays are coming to Boston before & after said weekend? I have no way of knowing, and I’d like to show her a good time. (If she came after, she’d probably come back here with me Wednesday April 4.) Everyone around here has colds. I’m crossing my fingers that I escape the germs everyone’s sneezing around. I suddenly seem to have no time at all – every-minute is taken up by trying to keep my head above water as far as my courses are concerned. I’d really love to take a few evenings out & just knit or suthing. Keep well –
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 1 March 1951
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
March 1–
Dear Mum—
And so we start March with a snowstorm – after the springlike weather at the beginning of the week. No sooner do I optimistically take my bicycle out of the cellar than I have to stow it away again. I think I shall start a new scrapbook about myself,* what with all my little attempts at writing being blown up rather out of proportion. Imagine one awestruck girl greeted me yesterday with “I hear you’re writing a novel. I think that’s just wonderful.” Whereupon I felt like telling her I was my twin sister and never wrote a damn thing in my life. I’ve got to get to work if I’m going to live up to my “reputation.” At least Olive Higgins can feel I really do write. Seems that scholarship was rather well chosen. Hope the dear thing is content.
XX
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Saturday 3 March 1951*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Saturday
Dear Mum –
Now really, I am not writing from the hospital or the morgue. In fact I am quite well, and have so far miraculously escaped the flu. I just got up this morning and got your postcard. Could I be as presumptuous to say you sounded a wee bit frantic? No news may be good news from Warren, but that doesn’t mean that no news means I’m on my deathbed. If I were, I’d at least have time to drop you a postcard.
The dresses arrived all right, although the box was broken to pieces. Dick asked me down to a dance next weekend, and I am now sorry I accepted on two counts. First, I know he did it to salve his conscience about the train episode, and that he would just have loved me to refuse. Second, we have a big history written the Monday after I return. So I’m petrefied. At least I’ll bring a book along, but that can’t compare to a solid weekend of review.
Just to let you know why you won’t be hearing from me as often as usual – March 1 seems to be the sign for any teachers to clamp down. I’ve an English paper due every Monday from here till vacation, a Botany test every Thursday, a french written next Thursday, History written March 12 (⅓ of my semester grade) and art work I haven’t even touched yet, which gobbles hours of my time up. So you see that I’m in a squirrel cage at present. Bob Humphrey couldn’t come Sunday (was I mad!) because he had the flu. This weekend I’m not going out at all because I’ve got to catch up on sleep and work so that missing said commodities next weekend won’t quite kill me.
I will probably wear my maroon coat over my white dress. Those gloves you sent had holes in them, but I have white ones of my own anyway. I just want to be sure I don’t have to worry about hiding holes or spots.
It is lovely weather, and I am as yet fine. If I live till after March 12 I can face the atombomb with complete equanimity.
Forgive me if I don’t write too often. What am I going to do about a job this summer – would like to wait on Cape. Is that impossible?
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 4 March 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Sunday a.m.
Dear Mum –
Well, yesterday afternoon I finished writing and typing my English paper due this Monday. From 8-11 last night I went over to Pat’s room and caught up on my art notebook. Today will be completely devoted to doing the week’s reading in history, and hoping. Thereby to be able to set a few hours aside for review sometime during the all-too-crowded week. The weather is miserable – about five inches of snow last night and rain all day today. I just hope it clears for next weekend as the Nortons believe in walking. Taxis? God no! If I live thru the ordeal, I will have to congratulate myself. All I can see is exams, exams exams. No time for much but. Excuse the gloom, but I hope I live to see the first crocus pop open. I shall burst into piteously grateful smiles. Did you hear that Christopher Robin got married? He is a toothy horribly weak young man. One more dream gone.
XXX
Sivvy
TO Ann Davidow-Goodman,
Monday 5 March 1951
ALS with envelope, Smith College
Dearest Davy –
It is 8:30 on Monday morning, and I’m gathering my forces (such as they are) for my good old six hour day. Do you realize why I have my desk facing the window? (I just figured out why this minute.) Hopkins house faces my room. Hopkins house is yellow. Yellow is a “morale-building” color. (Or so the higher-ups say in Art 13.) And there you have it.
The Yale weekend was fun, if you look at it in one way, and frightening, if you look at it in another. You see, the boy I went down with is a friend of the families and I’ve never gone out with him before. He is one of those people that you can’t believe exist. Not only is he the traditionally handsome blue-eyed blonde, but he is the most intelligent creature I’ve ever run across. For example, he’s got exempt from the draft to go to Harvard Medical School next year! He is very well built, and quite athletic (swims, skates, and does all the things I can’t do.) He has had such exciting jobs as working at a mental hospital. He rooms with 3 fascinating characters – one of whom was a Jugoslavian brought up in the Hitler Nazi youth program. Dick (my date) even showed me the reports he did in sociology – which involved interviewing 25 married couples in New Haven (14 pages per each!) So you see, I can’t even say he is just a brilliant student, because he has got such a damn outgoing personality. Did I rise to the occasion? Heh!
Oh, Ann, If you could have seen all the dumb brainless things I did all weeken
d! I just wished you were here when I came back to console me.
I hardly dared talk to him, because he could always reason me logically out of the stupid impressionable things I usually babble about. I just could feel him saying to himself “The poor child doesn’t know much of the basic natural phenomena of life, so we’ll just humor her along.”
Don’t get me wrong – he wasn’t superior! If he had been I would have had the satisfaction of saying “Hell, he’s too stuck-up for me.” The thing was he was just perfect, and thought up the loveliest things for me to do. Saturday night we watched the annual swimming meet. Sunday, instead of going to church, we put on old clothes and took a bike ride to a hill outside town where we could look all over New Haven. We came back late in the afternoon and had a delightfully unconventional dinner at 3:30 in a Chinese restaurant. The one flaw in his perfection was that he got me to the train one minute after the thing had pulled out of the station. So I got to Hamp at 1 o’clock, and had to appear before J. B. etc. etc.
All in all, I was grateful to the handsome old Einstein for taking me out, but God, Ann, I never felt so shallow in my whole life. I hate being patronized. When I came back, I tried and tried to rationalize, but couldn’t say that one thought in my unlogical head was worthwhile.
The funny thing is, you know how I feel about drinking & necking – not unless you are “in love” (or something like that.) Well, if he’d kissed me once! Even cousinlyish. But no! And he wouldn’t look at a girl who drank, yet I felt I needed a few cocktails rather badly before I was through.
Now you will try to cheer me up as you would have. But I’ll stick in one last sentence. He knows life through physical & chemical laws & reason. Thus he has a sound basis for impressions and embroidery on his thoughts. I have only a slippery shifting basis of liberal arts, and all my expressions aren’t worth too much without a foundation.