The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1

by Sylvia Plath

  Indiana University

  TUESDAY afternoon

  dearest progenitor . . . .

  even though I am very weary and very longing for sleep and very behind in papers, I felt such a sudden burst of love and happiness and joy in love seething all day in me that I could not help but want to share some of it with you, there is so much to flow over merrily with, and I feel violets sprouting between my fingers and forsythia twining in my hair and violins and bells sounding whereever I walk . . .

  why should I be so elated even if tired? . . . because I have two good strong legs, the doctor and xray said so yesterday; because I revised my villanelles the way the New Yorker man suggested and it is true they are much better and I am going to send them back and see what he says; because I will probably get the coveted position of Hampshire Gazette Correspondent for next year in the News Office which will mean earning about $150 or $200 . . . the most lucrative job in the office; because I have many good warm friends . . . Marcia, Enid . . . and talented others; because one Myron Michael Lotz thinks I am brilliant creative and beautifulallatonce; because one promising Raymond Wunderlich has just written and asked me to come to New York sometime this spring for ballet and other cultural delights; because I just got a check from the Springfield Daily News and bought three coveted books and six modern art postcards at the Hampshire Bookshop: the huge black-and-white modern art-covered New Directions (14),* James Joyce’s Dubliners,* and the Basic Writings of Freud* . . . because life in general is rich and heterogeneous and promising if I work hard . . . .

  now to practical affairs: I am staying overnight at Marty’s Wednesday, hoping that Warren will come up as early as possible Thursday morning. I have all my winter clothes, piles of books and crutches to bring home, and Marty has a lot of stuff too, so we’ll need him.

  by the way, I got a long letter from Mr. Norton about the coming (sigh) vacation, and have agreed to go with him Monday March 30 and come back Wednesday April 1. Really, that is as good a time as any, and I’d like to get it over with and enjoy the rest of the vacation and read and write and work. The only thing is, I’ll have to work like fury on Mlle Saturday and Sunday because I have to mail it Monday March 30. Maybe you could then help me with the typing of it.

  I LOVE MY NEW BOOKS: THIS SUMMER I AM GOING TO STAY HOME AND READ AND READ AND READ AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE . . .

  I LOVE YOU TOO

  AND WARREN ALSO,

  xxxxxx

  sivvy

 
  ‘MAIN STREET’; ‘GREEN STREET’; ‘College Hall tower’; ‘Gates’; ‘ELM STREET’; ‘Curved brick quad’; ‘Crescent STREET’; and ‘211’>

  TO Warren Plath

  Saturday 21 March 1953*

  TLS (photocopy),

  Indiana University

  saturday morning . . . .

  dearest washington wanderer . . . .

  much pleased was your untraveled sister to receive a blooming pink postcard of the cherry trees seen from the tidal basin today. here it is miraculously sunny, and blue skied and springly, and right next to our house the sophomores are having their annual carnival with an honest-to-goodness merry-go-round, and the creaking carousel music makes me feel as gay and lighthearted as a child at a country fair, in spite of the fact that I have a 25-page research paper on Edith Sitwell due monday and I have 11 books on my desk which I haven’t even started to read yet! seriously, though, I love writing it, and just spent another $10 on three books: basic writings of Freud, Joyce’s “Dubliners”, and a delectably stark arty black-and-white covered New Directions Anthology just out this year which includes two selections by professors at Smith:* we really are an artistic place.

  the great W. H. Auden spoke in chapel this week and I saw him for the first time. he is my conception of the perfect poet: tall, with a big leonine head and a sandy mane of hair, and a lyrically gigantic stride. needless to say he has a wonderfully textured british accent, and I adore him with a big Hero Worship. I would someday like to touch the Hem of his Garment and say in a very small adoring voice: Mr. Auden I haveapomeforyou: “I found my God in Auden.”

  He is Wonderful and

  Very Brilliant, and

  Very Lyric and Most

  Extremely Witty.

  I love Sitwell: remember:

  “That is my friend King Pharoh’s head

  That nodding blew out of the pyramid *

  and “An old dull mome with a head like a pome.”* those are going to be my children’s nursery rhymes, along with T. S. Eliot’s practical cats.

  can’t wait to see you Wednesday. now I have classes from two to four, so if you get up by then, just wait in the livingroom of the house and tell the girl on bells youre my Brother, or tell anybodyand they will be very Impressed with you. probably you will get up a little after four, in which case I will be there with all my many books suitcases and crutches and so on. from where we will pick up marcia, and if it is near supper which it will be we will go and take you down to rahar’s and treat you to a good dinner and a hell of a lot of collegiate atmosphere. marcia is staying from thursday, till saturday, so our Little Home will be Packed with Guests. needless to say, I want to get home as Soon as Possible. but If by chance you can’t come up till thursday morning because of it being rainy or snewing, I will stay overnight at marcia’s. I really must know, though, so why don’t you waste a big lot of money on me by sending a telegram from washington wed. morning if you Can’t come till thursday. and maybe send one from home when you leave Wed to let me know When you will get here: check?

  there are a million things I want to talk to you about, since I haven’t written you for a long time. looks like you and I will both be home this summer, so I hope we can help mother with the cooking and work since grammy is evidently pretty out of the running now, and I look so forward to being with you all the summer: I hardly ever see you during the year, and you are still my Very Favorite Person! we will have a fun summer together. it will help the fact that my social life will obviously be Nil. at least now and then we can Do Boston together, alleys and all, because you are a Big Man and can protect me.

  my male acquaintances are coming along pretty well: myron is in florida for three weeks of spring training now, so I won’t be seeing him till the middle of april. he is really a very wonderful person, and I must tell you the story of his home life: it is amazing that someone like him came from such a place. imagine his mother never went beyond fourth grade! and his father works in the steel mills! I think myron like me better than any girl, as he has come to see me in his new ford car with the radio every weekend for a month . . and we read poems, abnormal psychology, and everything together . . . only he is still under his facade very young and romantic and idealistic, which I of course appreciate and cherish . . . while he definitely has the advantage over perry of being more of a rationalist and conscious of the worldliness of the world. I like him quite a bit. imagine, he sings songs to me! he would like to meet you sometime because I keep telling him how wonderful you are, with your broadjumping and brilliancy at exeter. I think you would like him.

  another nice thing: just got a letter from ray wunderlich, the columbia med student I met at the belmont last summer, and I think I will go to New York to visit him this spring! isn’t that wonderful! he is a member of the N.Y. ballet society, and very alive, brilliant, and enchanting, even though he is barely as tall as I. spring in Central Park! ah, aren’t we coming up in the world!

  I have been getting very encouraging personal rejection slips from the New Yorker, and they have a pome of mine now, which I am praying to god they accept. that would crown my life. I am superstitious about always having something at the printers. 17 printed a pome of mine this month,* and my Last One is coming
out in the may issue.* they have been very good to me.

  hope to see you wednesday . . . much love,

  sivvy

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Saturday 11 April 1953*

  TLS with envelope,

  Indiana University

  saturday morning

  dearest mother . . . .

  well, no publication news yet . . . neither rejections nor acceptances, just an empty silence! so no news is good news in this case I think!

  I am at present beginning a long funny poem which the first stanza of I here reproduce. I am trying to get a rollicking rhythm. sometimes, I fear, it is not only rollicking, but also supremely irresponsible:

  Dialogue en Route

  “If only something exciting would happen!”

  Said Eve the elevator-girl ace

  To Adam the arrogant matador

  As they shot past the forty-ninth floor

  In a rocketing vertical clockcase

  Fast as a fallible falcon.

  and so on and on,

  as far as my masculine acquaintances are concerned, I am most elated about subsequent happenings. upon returning I got a card from Myron reaffirming his coming up early this afternoon “For the express purpose of talking over a million things.” needless to say I look most forward to reseeing him. and ALSO I got a darling letter from Ray with a Round Trip Ticket to New York enclosed(!) He is very understanding about my financial setup, but no boy has ever gone to the trouble and expense of sending me train tickets! I was most touched. here’s to May 1!

  the best thing happened, as most best things do, unexpectedly. walking out of the Auden lecture last night* alone (thank god) I saw a tall handsome figure standing in the rain, and with a start, realized that it was Gordon Lameyer.

  Thinking he probably had come with another girl, I vowed to quell my first impulse to run up to him and say hello, and just kept slowly walking home. And then, just like in the movies, I heard a measured male tread behind me, and I didn’t dare to look up until I heard him say my name. So it developed that I went out with him to a little smoky place downtown, drank gingerale (he is another boy who drinks nothing stronger than beer and doesn’t smoke) and talked heatedly about James Joyce, religion, childhood, and all sorts of obscure poets and famous people we knew people who know. The evening was a stimulating rapid cross fire of ideas, and both of us had an excellent time. I was so relieved at having a second chance to make up for our first and only date, and me handicapped by the cast.

  Anyhow, the great God Gordon has asked me to a dance at his fraternity house next Saturday night, and I am happily going. Just like I imagined I would if he ever asked me! The only trouble is that he is going to be an insurance salesman after he gets out of the navy. What a waste of talent!

  And so my date life looks inordinately bright! Ah, spring! I certainly am going out with three exceptional men! Both Gordon and Mike are about 6'4", only Ray is short (my height) and spindly, but he certainly makes up for it in brilliance and entertaining conversation. And all of them are so intelligent!

  If only now I would make some great unexpected windfall of money all would be just lush!! At least I have lovely social prospects. I do like Gordon, he is, as I have said, the best looking boy I have ever met. I feel that I am out with a particularly attractive movie star, or something, whenever I look at him . . . his hair is close cropped and curly brown, and his eyes black, and he has a really tremendous lean lithe build! Ah, me!

  xx

  sivvy

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Wednesday 22 April 1953*

  ALS with envelope,

  Indiana University

 

  Tell me what you think about the poems.*

  xxx

  Sivvy

  P.S. If you ever have a while with nothing to do (ho ho!) you could type up these poems, centered, singlespsaced, on good paper (without name or anything) & send ’em to me!

  xx

  S.

  Parallax

  Major faults in granite

  Mark a mortal lack;

  Yet individual planet

  Directs all zodiac.

  Tempo of strict ocean

  Metronomes the blood,

  Yet ordered lunar motion

  Proceeds from private flood.

  Diagram of mountains

  Graphs a fever chart;

  Yet astronomical fountains

  Exit from the heart.*

  Drama of each season

  Plots doom from above;

  Yet all angelic reason

  Moves to our minor love.

  April 16, 1953

  Verbal Calisthenics

  My love for you is more

  Athletic than a verb,

  Agile as a star

  The tents of sun absorb.

  Treading circus tightropes

  Of each syllable,

  The brazen jackanapes

  Would fracture if he fell.

  Acrobat of space,

  The daring adjective

  Plunges for a phrase

  Describing arcs of love.

  Nimble as a noun,

  He catapults in air;

  A planetary swoon

  Could climax his career.

  But adroit conjunction

  Eloquently shall

  Link to his lyric action

  A periodic goal.

  April 16, 1953

  Admonition

  If you dissect a bird

  To diagram the tongue

  You’ll cut the chord

  Articulating song.

  If you flay a beast

  To marvel at the mane

  You’ll wreck the rest

  From which the fur began.

  If you assault a fish

  To analyze the fin

  Your hands will crush

  The generating bone.

  If you pluck out the heart

  To find what makes it move,

  You’ll halt the clock

  That syncopates our love.

  April 17, 1953

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Friday 24 April 1953

  Telegram, Indiana University

  BIRTHDAY GREETINGS STOP MY PRESENT IS FOLLOWINGNEWS. HARPERS MAGAZINE JUST GRACIOUSLY ACCEPTED THREE POEMS FOR 100 DOLLARS IN ALL. MADEMOISELLE SENT TEN DOLLARS FOR RUNNER-UP IN THIRD ASSIGNMENT BEST LOVE TO YOU=

  =CIVVY

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Friday 24 April 1953

  TLS in greeting card,*

  Collection of Judith Raymo

 

  If I were a Walküre / Full of sound and fury / I’d mount my trusty stallion / And with a whoop Valhallian cry / Happy Birthday

 

  much love to / my favorite / mummy! / your / sivvy / (inside)

  friday, april 24

  Dear mother . . . .

  As you can see, with much effort and travail, I managed to put a new ribbon on the typewriter. Feels so much better, really, and my thoughts somehow become correspondingly scintallant and concise. Got my final catalogue from Harvard and am in the midst of writing up my application sheets. O’Connor’s story course is limited, and I do hope I can get in, but if I can’t, I’m signing up for his novel course in 20th century lit. which should also be tremendous. About $150 should cover it if I live at home. But if any little financial bonuses come through, I will try to get a room and board there during the week and come home weekends. I really should live there, as I have a 9 a.m. class and a 2 p.m. one. Will earn about $50 from the News Office in these last 2 months. As for squaring things with the Scholarships office, should they ask, I’m taking a prerequisite course for possible grad work in psych, and working before and after, and writing in the meantime, so to hell with them. They probably won’t know about it until it’s too late anyhow. And
even then, I really don’t have to worry.

  In the final catalogue, the opening date is July 5, so I’ll have plenty of time to study shorthand with you, to read all the books I have on hand, rest, and get tan and intelligent. The College Board Editor from Mlle* came up to cover the tremendous Arts and Morals Symposium* we’re having these last 2 days . . . as I told you, with Auden, Lionel Trilling,* Allen Tate,* Jacques Barzun,* George Boas,* Ben Shahn,4 Archibald MacLiesh,* and several others. She treated all of us to icecream after the afternoon symposium, and we all had a friendly chat. However, I have completely given up hope for a month in New York. The girls trying out from Smith are all tremendous in art, gov, fashion, and so on, and none of them have received prizes yet, so I am dead certain I don’t have a chance. Naturally I’m sorry, but there is so much else I want to do that I can’t waste time in self-pity.

  Next Friday I head off for a gala weekend in New York. Ray promises most entertaining times . . . Saturday I’m going to his 2 hour neurology class . . . and I can’t wait to tell you all about it. I’m going shopping at the beginning of this week for a dress or traveling suit. Mike has asked me down to Yale for the spring college (May 9th) weekend the next weekend, and of course I’m gladly going. Perry and Shirl will be there, and evidently Jill Modlin was so intrigued by me that she is insisting on having me as a house guest! If it’s nice weather, we’ll all hit the beaches, for picnics et al. I look most forward to it.

  By the way, Auden came to dinner at the house last night, and I had the honor of sitting at the same table. Really, he is the most delightfully brilliant man! If I get up enough courage I’m going to ask him to criticize some of my poems. After all, the least he could to is refuse or tell me they’re all putrid!

  I was very disappointed in what I found out about the psych dept. at smith. It is definitely inferior. I am not going to go overboard for this and then back out, so I’ll take the course this summer, and probably a semester of Social Disorganization* with a brilliant man in the Sociology department,* and maybe the Psychology of Personality* with a good woman.* Any man who doesn’t recognize Freud (who himself is already modified and outdated) isn’t worth wasting time on! If I am really interested, I will find out about possible grad work in psych. I am open to all kinds of suggestions about the future at present . . . want to consider every possible angle.