The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1

by Sylvia Plath

  love –

  sivvy

  TO Constantine Sidamon-Eristoff

  Monday 18 February 1952*

  ALS, Private owner

  Monday

  Dear Connie . . .

  Life about now is as scintillating as that in a state penitentiary. Not that I’m bitter, just snow-covered and weary . . . Exams having faded in a bleary fog, now . . . . and we are looking ahead to the gaiety of the traditional Rally Day Celebration for this coming weekend.* Somehow my artistic inclinations have gotten me in a rather strange position in the gym basement, painting a big backdrop for Charity Ball. It’s supposed to look very modern and Picasso-esque when I’m through – but picture me crouched in the big dim cellar with only a thin dusty light overhead, steam pipes hissing maliciously and jutting out at threatening angles, not to mention all sorts of dank slime exuding from the walls – lovely setting, wot? Just as long as I don’t meet any Charles Addams* characters down there – or any maniac janitors!

  I find myself doing all sorts of amazing things – some of which I am sure may surprise you, but which I shall tell you about anyway.

  A weekend or so ago I spent a unique night down at Harvard Medical School. After some coaxing, my escort took me over to the Boston-Lying-In Hospital, bequeathed me a white coat and mask, and let me wander around anonymously on the maternity ward floor. I don’t know when I’ve had such fun! I went into all the rooms with the internes & doctors, stood two feet away to watch a baby being born (the most colorful, amusing & sobering sight imagineable!) And even held test tubes while they took blood tests. My sense of drama was really aroused – and the characters I saw were a refreshing change from the usual socially-oriented college individuals I live with. It was life in the raw, really – women walking in from off the streets to deliver, and screams & wailing & blood. Needless to say, my experiences there, plus some intense conversations I had with a couple of med-students – will make terrific background material for those short stories I’m always trying to write. My collection of rejection slips would wallpaper several rooms, but the few things I have had published made me determined to keep on battering on the editor’s doors.

  My latest enterprise involves volunteer work downtown at the people’s Institute --- teaching little urchins how to draw, of all things! It’s fun to get outside of the ivy-covered idealistic tower and learn to know the town better . . . and I have as much of a frolic spattering paint on paper as the children do. (Next year I want to work in the veteran’s Hospital – and I have a great curiosity about mental Asylums, too. – As you have no doubt gathered by now, I am a female who cannot bear sitting away her life by a fireside, munching bonbons and playing bridge. I like doing things creatively & with all sorts of people too much for that!)

  But now I have been rambling on for so long – too long – about my activities. I do want to say, belatedly, in retrospect, that I loved meeting your family. I lost my heart completely to your mother, who is one of the most delightfully stimulating women I have ever met! Do remember me to her, please.

  You are no doubt leading the life of the suave Princetonian gentleman, I trust! But I would like to hear about it! Will the Armed Forces be devouring you after graduation? As I am sure you would make a dashing Cossack – or Napoleonic warrior – I do not care to think of you trudging muddily through battlefields. But there, my romanticism is winning over my realism again!

  Do reciprocate and write, my enchanting Georgian!

  Yours,

  Sylvia

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Monday 25 February 1952*

  ALS (postcard), Indiana University

  Monday afternoon

  Dear mum –

  Another week has ground into being, and I find myself overwhelmed with work – novels to read, stories to write, and much more. The week of March 11 is my waterloo – with three writtens & two papers. I just hope I can keep well! Dick came up Saturday afternoon and we had a very nice weekend. We all (Marcia – Mike, Carol & Ken, Dick & I) went to the Whale Inn* for a delicious & talkative dinner there, whereupon the others went to the dance, and Dick & I went for an evening of reading at Davis. Sunday was beautiful, so we went on a long hike across the snow fields to the Connecticut river & were out for a good six hours – we then read in the libe & the house, & I fell in bed after they left at 9:30 p.m. I will be coming home the weekend of the 15th to go to a dance at Harvard Med. School – and till then I will be working like a dog. I’ve got so much I want to do Spring vacation! Mostly writing and reading. Hows. Dr C.?

  XX

  Siv

  TO Richard Norton*

  Monday 25 February 1952

  AL (excerpt),* Smith College

  February 25 – letter excerpt:

  . . . can you see, through the strange dark tunnel of cupped hands to the great cyclops eye, blurred, staring, flecked with one lightspot that grows and becomes a cloud, shifting, endowed with meaning, imposed upon it. Can you feel, listening with trained ear to heartbeat of the other, the wind shrieking and gasping and singing, as one listens to the vast humming inside the paradoxical cylinder of the telephone pole? Such uncharted, wild barrens there are behind the calm or mischievous shell that has learned its name but not its destiny.

  There is still time to veer, to sally forth, knapsack on back, for unknown hills over which . . . only the wind knows what lies. Shall she, shall she veer? There will be time, she says, knowing somehow that in her beginning is her end and the seeds of destruction perhaps now dormant may even today begin sprouting malignantly within her. She turns away from action in one direction to that in another, knowing all the while that someday she must face, behind the door of her choosing, perhaps the lady, perhaps the tiger . . .

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Wednesday 27 February 1952*

  ALS with envelope,

  Indiana University

  Wednesday

  Dear Mother –

  Just a quickie note in the midst of stacks of work! This weekend I have to read 2 novels (total: 900 pages) and 400 pages of government, write a story,* paint a still life, plus spending all Friday morning & night & Saturday morning over at the News Office! What a life! All my writtens & papers come in a row the week of March 10. It will be a large hell.

  What I want to know is, can you put Carol up Friday & Saturday nights on March 14 & 15? We both are coming down to rest & party that weekend, & I thought she could sleep with me if you were in Warren’s room.

  News today of a $150 increase in board & room! You will no doubt get the notice soon. Just as we thought we had things in hand, too! The Elks better come across. I shall see if any sort of financial adjustment is possible when I see Miss Mensel about co-op house on Friday morning. At least I will be earning a sizeable sum in my last two years, by working on press Board! I’m really glad I got into that – lucrative & practical.

  I have found a vocational interest! Today our creative writing class heard the president of the Hampshire bookshop* speak on the publishing house business. It sounds like just what I want. You teach me shorthand & typing, & I work up in all sorts of jobs (variety of angles – publicity, secretarial, editorial, reading manuscripts – juvenile depts. – etc.) I was overwhelmed with enthusiasm; still want to work in veterans hospital, though. But English majoring & Press Board can lead to a practical end. See if you can get any contacts!

  Love & kisses –

  Sivvy

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Tuesday 4 March 1952*

  ALS (postcard), Indiana University

  Tuesday

  Dear mum –

  So glad to hear you got Dr. Xian off! I am proud of my versatile mater! I have decided not to go to Princeton – it would be courting a cold & two low exam grades. For that I am not prepared to spend $15. It was the hardest choice I ever made, and, alas, the wisest. What I did was think of spring vacation in the same plight as Xmas. That did it. I am not going to let you beat me – & so am going to spend
most of my vacation writing for the Mademoiselle short story contest – also for a poetry contest. I will also have two Eng. novels to read & lots of gov. – but I look forward to working liesurely. Got a terrific long letter from Phil – he’s the dearest guy! Miss Mensel said I definitely would get a

  $900 scholarship

  50 adjustment

  250 coop (probably)

  $1200 – which leaves $600! She said I might have to borrow 1 or 2 hundred, but I hope Elks will take care of that! Of all crazy things – money is worst. Mrs. Brown is buying a house* in Hamp! Be good & don’t worry ’bout me –

  Love,

  Sivvy

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Thursday 6 March 1952*

  ALS with envelope,

  Indiana University

  Thursday night

  Dear Mother –

  maybe your daughter is slightly crazy. maybe she just takes after her illustrious mother, but in spite of the fact she has 3 wicked writtens next week, she is just now feeling very tired and happy-go-lucky. Very virtuous because she refused 3 weekends this weekend – Frosh Prom at Yale, Jr. Prom (sigh) at Princeton, a blind date from M.I.T. – and, of course, Dick might have come. But my work will fill every minute. I am too stable, really, to throw over courses in a social crisis. But I do feel that by rights my social life this Spring should be more freely indulged in – – if any turns up. At least Dick is coming to Soph Prom. I really felt I had to ask him before anyone else.

  Heard Struik* (friend “communist” from M.I.T. – dismissed – accused under Anti-Anarchy Law of 1919) speak Monday night. Really a fascinating Marxist. The Press Board took my review of it (playing down the controversial) almost verbatim! Mon. afternoon I spent 2 hours under the feet (literally) of the New York Ballet Theater Rehearsal – they said anyone who wanted to sketch could come – so I did. Magnificent.

  Creative writing has given me a B+ and an A- so far. I am much pleased. Just finished delivering my best baby yet – a story (only 7 pp)* about a vet with one leg missing & a girl meeting on a train. Dialogue discipline, you know.

  Saw Enid Epstein Wed. p.m. for tea at her house – she showed me that the same March issue of 17* that had a poem of hers in it had my name among the H. Mentions. We discussed writing & I read a few terrific stories of hers.

  Life is queer. Glad as I was not to be elected for Electoral Board (being one of 4 was an Honor) – I am very excited at being one of the 3 soph finalists for Sec. of Honor Board – one of the Big all-campus organizations up here – specially fascinating because it deals with psychological breaking of Honor System. Even if I know I don’t have a chance (same girl that beat me for Electoral Board is up) it’s fun. Also, laugh of laughs, I was actually nominated for house president! Knowing how I am “loved” by various & sundry, I smile. So much for my political career (I haven’t done a thing – one is just nominated & voted on & notified.)

  So pleased about Dr. Xian. You just better get a prize! I’m going to write all vacation. Just full of ideas from Mademoiselle to True Confessions –

  Love you Lots & lots –

  your offspring –

  Sivvy

 

  Good news – officially, classes get over at 12:50 Friday, March 21, since I don’t have anything but a gym class that a.m., I can leave Thursday at 5 p.m! I thus squeeze an extra day out of this institution!

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Tuesday 11 March 1952*

  ALS (postcard), Indiana University

  Tuesday 2 pm

  Dear mother –

  God! I am dead. I have had not more than 7 hours of sleep per night for a week, and the strain of concentrated reading is awful – got through gov. yesterday, english today. Religion comes Thursday. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have classes all day & activities at night. Sunday, before gov. exam, I covered vespers.* Yesterday p.m. I spent with my painting class at the institute. Tomorrow I have an afternoon mass meeting and have to cover a lecture* that night – before the exam! Frustrating, wot – also a late house meeting Thurs. night! Boy – will I feel like an escaped deserving convict going home friday am. Carol isn’t coming – but I might bring a friend of mine just for Sat night – don’t worry! I’m going straight in Boston Friday – so don’t expect me home before Fri. night. Hope you’re better

  XXX

  Siv

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Sunday 16 March 1952*

  ALS with envelope,

  Indiana University

  Sunday night

  dearest-mother-whom-I-love-better than-anybody –

  I have so much to tell you I hardly know where to start. Chronological order would be most coherent, even if I am most tempted to begin with the boy I fell in love with this afternoon!

  First of all – I was one of the 16 girls in the college up for the college elections. (too bad it didn’t come in time for Elks contest!) The whole college had a required meeting to see us (I didn’t have to make a speech just to get up & sit down.) But it was exciting. Unfortunately, my good friend & I who were both up for Sec. of Honor Board lost to the 3rd girl. (Funny, but I think Jane Anderson was up for the same office & lost last year!)

  Well, Friday morning I shot out of here like a bat out of Hades – got off right at the Medical School & ran to Dick. First thing I did was to call you, but you had gone – you mischievous gad-about! I can’t wait to hear your adventures. Dick & I sat and talked & talked & read Hemingway aloud for seven solid hours – without even eating. We took the bus home & he drove me the rest of the way from his house.

  Saturday I had the most luxuriously homey day. Grammy and I had such fun – I got up, had a delicious brunch, played piano, took a long hot bath, played more piano . . . . ironed six of my shirts (oh! virtue!) while listening to the records we have & waltzing around the livingroom. Then I got all dressed up in my black velvet standby & Dick called for me about 4:30. We had Chopin, Beethoven, Cognac & Goya etchings in Tom de Cornfield’s room – with Tom (the fascinatingly Continental Hungarian of my hospital acquaintance) and his date. Then dinner and the dance, where I met all sorts of lovely Negroes, Africans, Armenians and Americans. We got home around 12 after a nice evening.

  Sunday, you will be glad to hear, I “girded my loins” & went to church alone. I sat with the Norton’s, heard Dick sing, and drove back in their car afterwards. I also thanked Mr. Rice* warmly & personally for his letter. One score settled! I Promise to write the rest when I come home –. Dinner today was fun & I read to David until they took me to the bus.

  Now comes the wonderful part. I got on the crowded bus and found an empty seat toward the back by some young man, covered with a coat and snoring loudly. I couldn’t see him very well, and it was a bit dim to read, so I shut my eyes & rested. We came to the “Flying Yankee Diner”* about an hour later, so I got out to get some orange juice. When I came back, my traveling companion was sitting up very much awake, rosy, lanky, tall and attractively nice looking. I was happy just sitting next to someone so personable. He offered me a cigarette, which I refused, & we started to talk about the weather – it was snowing a little. Well, you know me & conversations!

  We talked solidly for the rest of the trip. He was completing his 8th year of college, having majored in Biology at C.L.A. and just finishing getting his PhD. in entomology at the U. of Mass. He told me about being a proctor over there, about his life in Canada – summer boyhood visits on his grandfathers 1000 acre lumber farm – about his job beginning at the end of March – his family – I did more than my share of talking – about you, Warren, college, my summer jobs, destiny, hypnosis, dream significance, chance, future plans.

  I just couldn’t bear to get into Northampton. He seemed the kindest person. When we got off the bus he said, “Say, would you like some coffee?” So I said yes, & we went into the same restaurant where you & I talked that day. We talked for a good hour & a half over sandwiches & coffee. It dawned on me during the cour
se of conversation that daddy majored or taught entomology, so I said, “You know, my dad wrote a book on bumblebees once.” His face lighted. “Not Bumblebees & Their Ways!” he said. “Let’s see, P-L, P-L-A . . . ” By that time I was laughing. Life seemed too strange for words. He carried my suitcase up to the house, then, leaving me at the door. I know I will never see him again, as I go home Thursday & he leaves for his job before I get back. His name was Bill something-or-other, and for a few hours I told him about most of my life and ideas and I think I loved him for talking to me. It just shows what wonderful people an uninhibited girl can run across.

  Well, it’s after 11, and I am still “high” with excitement over my fulfilling evening – it worked like a neatly opened oyster – & I managed, I think, to maneuver it to perfection. His father is a Canadian citizen. I will miss him . . . so old and sweet and listening and understanding – must have been 25 or so.

  Ah me, life is strange!

  See you Thursday night . . .

  Lots to do twixt then & now

  Love,

  Sivvy

 

  TO Constantine Sidamon-Eristoff

  Monday 17 March 1952

  ALS, Private owner

  March 17

  dear connie . . .

  and a happy saint patrick’s day to you, me lad! feeling bohemian, i decide to make like eecummings* and drop capitals for a while.

  really, i meant to write you a letter after that telegram i sent, but i haven’t had time to breathe for the last two weeks on account of a crowd of exams, papers and all sorts of meetings. my calendar looks very grim – simply covered with appointments and so on . . . and so on.