The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1
Page 68
I am getting more and more excited about harvard summer school. unfortunately, two other girls from the house are applying, so I hope I get in all right. seems everybody from smith wants to work or study in cambridge this summer! I have now decided what I want to do with psychology, after a fashion. I really don’t think I want to go to all the expense and training to be a clinical psychologist . . as far as I know now. the course this summer will help me decide. but I do want to go on with abnormal and personality psych as it is invaluable in conjunction with my writing and studies in english. mr. davis is avid about psychology, and I am very interested in the study of psychology in relation to myth, symbol and metaphor. so in graduate school, I will hope to take abnormal where it is Good. so it works in beautifully with my interest in motivation, etc. somehow, I want to stick to writing . . . and fortunately, instead of being too limiting, I should study innumerable things in connection with it . . . philosophy, art. etc.
bye for now . . . . much love
your peregrinating daughter . . .
sivvy
Ahem!
11 a.m.
Dear mother:
Oh, bother!
Mrs. Bragg*
(Alas, alag)
is staying chez elle aujourd’hui
Eh bien, quelle ennui!
So I packed my books in a box
And for breakfast had Scotch on the Rocks
To give me that je ne sais quoi,
That gay la-de-dah
Attitude,
To give longitude and latitude
To my bad high-hatted mood.
(On Braggs a pox
And some dirty sox!)
And so with a sandwich of roast beef. (au jus)
I leef (by bus)
To face papers and etcetera
And polite rejection lettera
At Smith.
In the meantime, an abstract kith
To you for being my mother
Instead of the mother
Of somebody else or other.
Please call Mrs. Bragg to tell her
How much you wish well her
And won’t be able to join her Saturday
On her trip to Smith because the latter day
Is the one that Kid Lotz and I will be away
Tooralay!
If any unprecedented windfall
Should perchance befall
Me, I will call.
That is all.
Take good care of your health progression
While I am on my academic mission
Because when I return in JUNE
I want you to be well in tune
For a gay pot shot
On my shocking pink yacht.
Love and laughter
From your daft daughter!
(Who gets dafter & dafter!)
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 5 May 1953*
TLS with envelope,
Indiana University
Tuesday morning
Dear mother . . .
I have been literally champing to get to the beauteous typewriter and tell you on and on about the magnificent occurences of the last three days, but yesterday was one mad rush to get back into the normal sunshine and orange juice routine of college life again, after the most wonderful weekend, literally, that I have ever had in my twenty years of Life.
Let me begin last Friday morning. Just before I left, my “author’s proofs” came from Harper’s, all shiny and with another nice letter from Russell Lynes.* (I corrected them to-day and am going to send them back . . . he said they’d send me advanced copies when they decided to print them, as they don’t know yet . . . I imagine they have to wait and see the space left by the articles.) A welcome $10 check came from 17 yesterday, and said my poem was “unscheduled” which may mean that they’re not going to print it or just don’t know when. At this point, not caring for the poem, and wanting to write over the whole thing to save the last two excellent clinching lines,* I just grab the money and don’t care.
Anyhow, to get back to the subject at hand, I donned your lovely Worth blouse and my blue wool suit, red shoes and red bag and white hat, and met my new friend Carol Koch,* and took the train. We read, chatted, and dozed during the four hour trip, both of us being very excited and eager to get to the city.
We got into grand central around four (after a sumptuous lunch in the plush dining car of the train, which thrilled me no end.) Carol’s date, a short, balding but simply wonderfully kind and intelligent first year man, met us, as Ray was working at the hospital till supper-time. He took us across by shuttle and up by subway to the Columbia Medical Center.
I must confess that I have never seen a place like it in my life. Great tall yellow-bricked buildings shoot up cleanly into the sky, all overlooking Riverside Drive, the Hudson river, the poetic arch of the George Washington Bridge, and the lights of the Palisades across the water. Bard Hall,* where the boys live, and where Carol and I shared a guest room together, is about 12 stories tall, with a great glassed hall and eating rooms overlooking the river, and all sorts of amazing facilities, like a swimming pool, which the boys are generally too busy to use. I fell in love with the place at first sight.
Carol and I changed for the evening, I getting into my white sharkskin dress, which looked very striking with the dramatically-cut black coat I’d borrowed (which proved ideal for NYtravel . . . didn’t show dirt, kept out rain, and looked very swish.)
Ray arrived, and we all took off for dinner. A French restaurant “La Petite Maison”* was the one the boys had picked, and never in my life have I partaken of such ambrosial food and enjoyed the linen-clothed, wine-clear atmosphere, with all the ubiquitous French waiters who could remove plates from under you without you noticing. Ray treated me to my first oysters on the halfshell, wine, filet mignon, tossed green salad, and coffee. The cameraderie of our foursome was struck right there, and increased during the weekend to a lovely rapport. Right after dinner (during the meal we had a lovely claret wine) we taxied off to see “The Crucible” by Arthur Miller.* A very good play about the witch hunts in Salem . . . and afterwards we went to Delmonico’s* where we sat around a little table, listening to excellent piano music, and talking long and heatedly about Communism, racial prejudice and religion (our companions were both very liberal jews.) It was a most stimulating evening, the kind where everyone contributes, challenges, and pounds the table in excitement to be heard. Bed came after this at 5 a.m.
Saturday the four of us brunched at 1 p.m. and took the subway to the city center where I saw my First Opera . . . “Carmen”.* It was just exquisite, and I did enjoy the music.
After that we went to the Cape Coddy “Gloucester House”* where we had the best sea food I’ve ever eaten . . . crabs, clam broth, scallops, biscuits, all sorts of lovely things on the wooden tables, and conversation was brilliant, witty, and one running pun.
We separated after that, the Carol-and-Dick party going back to the dorm to sleep awhile before the dance, Ray and I to see the most magnificently acted, shockingly surrealistic play I’ve ever seen in my life . . . Tennessee Williams’s “Camino Real”.* I can’t describe it now, it would take too long, but contrary to the review of many good critics who ranted against the hopeless maniac despair of the play, I found that it organized in Williams’s own particular way the formless chaos of that part of the world which is real and malignant and pathetically close to hopelessness. In the words of the play itself, it was “a serious circus, a comic strip read backwards.”* The symbolism was frightening, appealing to the emotions when occasionally baffling the intellect. Between acts Ray and I talked heatedly about the meaning of it, and at the end, we sat in the theater until all the crowds had gone before we went back to Bard. It
was the most stimulating, thought-provoking, artistic play I’ve ever seen in my life!
We arrived at the dance at midnight, and it was just hitting it’s height . . . so I slipped off the jacket of my black silk dress, put my hair behind my ears, and presto! was transformed into a danceable date. The dance was the large glass windowed room overlooking the lighted river, and Ray, after I got used to his style, was the most original beautiful dancer I’ve ever tried to follow. None of this mere conventional face-to-face business . . . it was all swoops, open steps, twirlings under arms, gliding across the hall, singing to the music, and charlestoning like fury in a circle of onlookers. Most gratifying, and a new experience for me.
After the dance, six of us went up to Ray’s room overlooking the lighted river from the 7th floor, and drank sherry and listened to music from “Swan Lake” to “Gaite Parisienne” until almost dawn, talking and just relaxing after a packed wonderful day.
Sunday we brunched again at one, all four of us feeling extremely sleepy and languid. We decided to have a restful companionable day instead of seeing a good movie, as planned, so Ray took us up to his lab (also overlooking the river) and spent an hour showing us his pathology slides and explaining them. We then took a tour through the Presbyterian hospital* (which even had a built-in chapel with stained glass windows where we sat and listened to organ music awhile) and had our final meal in the hospital cafeteria in the midst of doctors and nurses.
Bidding the boys goodbye at 7, Carol and I took the train back to Hamp after the most perfect weekend we both had ever had.
Just to point out how thoughtful Ray was: he hadn’t told me any of the things we were going to see, but on my arrival, handed me two envelopes, one with a humorous typed itinerary with comments,* the other full of reviews of the plays we were going to see, plus notices of general artistic interest we were going to discuss. I was really touched.
Knowing me, you can imagine my reaction to the City of New York . . . even the subway rides were enchanting to me . . . and Ray, who is just my height, skinny, and who dresses in Floridian style (more flamboyant than my conservative New England friends) was the most entertaining and intelligent and instructive companion imagineable.
Well, that’s that. I am elated by the way that you are to be a ghost-writer. Dobbin nothing! you have a gift in your own line, and between the two of us, we should make a lovely life. I owe all I am to you anyway, for you have made all possible, from my life to my Smith career (I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, I’m so happy here.)
love,
your ecstatic sivvy
p.s. – mentioned casually to dick about date at med. school – makes things so much simpler that way – being honest – so you can be truthful too.
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Friday 8 May 1953
TLS, Indiana University
Friday night . . . in the
midst of a greenish
thunderstorm . . . and
dramatic sheets of rain
Dearest progenitor . . . .
This will probably be the last letter for a few days. You could hardly guess how busy I’ve been these last days. This morning, for example, there was our last Press Board Meeting, News Office work, and a rush envelope from MLLE with all kinds of lists to be filled out, letters, to be written, and a huge vocational history to be done which took me all afternoon . . . and all had to be sent off air mail special delivery. I am enclosing a release paper for you to sign where indicated, and to send of Immediately to the address at bottom. I’m also enclosing a copy of what we’ll do as guest editors, which you can peruse and send right back in your next letter . . . I’m too lazy and rushed to type an extra copy.
The month sounds strenuous but challenging and lots of fun. I’ve already sent in the names of four writers, one of whom I will meet, interview and be photographed with. My tentative choices are: J. D. Salinger (“Catcher in the Rye”* and tremendous stories); Shirley “The Lottery” Jackson;* E. B. White* of New Yorker fame; and Irwin Shaw.* Hope one of those luminaries consents to be seen with me!
I’ll be staying at the Barbizon hotel* at a reduced rate of $15 a week. (Never stayed at a hotel before!) As for clothes, they advise bringing bathing suits, and cool, dark clothes “which will look as fresh at 5 p.m. as at 9 a.m.” So next week I am going to pick up a few more dresses, another hat, pajamas, and a few other necessities. Also have to bring a formal.
Now, here is a plan I’ve been thinking of. You and grammy could drive up around Thursday, May 21, or shortly thereafter, and I could pack all my stuff in the car and go home with you (driving back.) Then I could stay home for about till Tuesday, say, ironing washing and getting everything in spic and span leisurely readiness. Tuesday I could take a small suitcase of necessities back with me, enough to last till my Milton exam sat. morning. Right after my Milton exam I could take the bus home, get a good rest saturday night, and head for New York Sunday afternoon, May 31. Then I’d have time to get settled at the Barbizon and be up the next day for my interview at 9. How does that sound? Let me know when you’ll be up.
Right now I am desperately trying to write a Milton paper* which I have to get done tonight, as well as packing, for I leave for New Haven tomorrow morning. Monday I have to write a Modern Poetry paper for my unit that night. Also that week, I’ll usher for the play “Ring Around the Moon”* here to get in free, and do a long feature interview for the Hampshire Gazette on a girl on campus* they want written up. They are very impressed with my work, and on my review of the Evening with Charles Laughton last week,* gave me credit by putting my initials after the article. I do enjoy that job!
After Monday night, things should let up a bit. New Yorker keeps sending rejections. Some day I must conquer them too, and keep it up. I get out of New York June 27, and summer school doesn’t begin till July 5, so I should have a little time to rest, make a scrapbook to preserve the memories of my month, and do a little advance reading.
I hope you all take it easy with the house decorating, and let Warren do any heavy work, and don’t do anything silly yourself just to save money.
Looking most forward to seeing you around Thursday the 21st.
Much love, your enchanted daughter,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 12 May 1953*
TLS with envelope,
Indiana University
tuesday noon
dear mother . . .
at last I can breathe . . . after rushing off to new haven saturday morning in the glorious sunshine and my very nice blue cord suit . . . I arrived in time for lunch at silliman with myron and attended the afternoon festivities with bob and jill and perry and shirl. everybody was dressed in shorts and shirts and straw hats, and informality beer and suntans were the cry. we all had a picnic out by a lake, lolled in the sun, and dressed to drop in at the timothy dwight dance.* after which we changed back to old clothes again and drove miles and miles to the ocean where all six of us had a beach party.
that night I slept in a double bed with shirley and jill on the cot, got up late sunday, in time for a lamb chop dinner at silliman, and spent the beauteous afternoon at lighthouse point with bob and jill where we waded, sunned, and played baseball. I acquired a nice sunburn, which in itself made the weekend more than worthwhile. It was all diametrically opposite to last weekend, which was good, because comparison was impossible for that reason. I needed very badly to get some exercise and fresh air out-of-doors, and would never have been able to allow myself that treat if I’d stayed at Smith.
I really paid the penalty for my two days of play when I came back as I had to write two papers on monday for deadlines. I wrote my Drew paper on Auden in the morning, went to my unit for two hours in the afternoon, and from then until after midnight wrote and typed an 11-page paper for milton. I hate doing things at the last minute, but that rush assignment from MLLE came friday and took all day, when I had been planning
to do one of my papers. at last, today, I can again breathe, and am now up on the sun roof resting and laconically typing letters.
tonight I’m going out to supper with Marty and Carol Pierson, tomorrow night I’m ushering for our last college play “Ring Around the Moon” so I can get in free. next week is my last unit, and we are taking Miss Drew out to dinner, and on wednesday I plan to go to amherst on a literary pilgrimage with enid to hear dylan thomas* give his wonderful poetry readings. I am so thrilled he is coming and that I’ll have the chance to hear him.
now my main tasks will be catching up in milton, doing my reading period assignments in the course, and studying for the exam. I just hope my petition to take it sat, may 30 goes through (the regular exam is June 1) as I have to be in New York on May 31.
also I’ll have to go shopping for necessaries like the black raincoat, pajamas, a quilted bathrobe, and maybe a dark cotton or silk print dress. meanwhile, I’m making money handoverfist from the hampshire gazette . . . should net over $20 this month, which certainly comes in handy . . . I also hope I can get a tuition scholarship from harvard, but as two other girls from Lawrence are also applying for tuition scholarships, my chances are probably slight.
by the way, I learned many interesting things from bob modlin who had a heart to heart talk with me about the nortons . . . bob is a fine and perceptive boy. evidently perry had just been home the week before, and via the grapevine (I never realized what a convoluted grape vine it was) I discovered that mrs. norton has decided (at this late date) that she doesn’t want me for her precious courageous boy anyway, because, number one, my summer plans show what a Selfish Person I am. I was really appalled and very hurt. Not only is my not ruining my health as a waitress at saranac proof that I’m Selfish, but so is my going to Harvard Summer School, because I should be working so that you wouldn’t have to.
As you may imagine, I feel very chilly toward Mrs. Norton, and really don’t care if I ever see her again for all the such-like rationalizations she has made about me now that she sees I’m not serious about her Baby (as in truth I never have given her to understand I was).