The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1
Page 101
xx
sivvy.
ps. English men are great
TO The Editor, Mademoiselle
c. February 1955
Printed from Mademoiselle,*
March 1955
Never have I read such a plump, magnificent issue as your February one! A very happy twentieth birthday to you.
At Smith, my friends and I were especially enchanted by the gay, lilting love poem by Donald Hall* and the winsome, whimsical Peynet sketches.* I reveled in the superb story by Bryan McMahon* and you can imagine how I welcomed Dylan Thomas!* To tell the other features I enjoyed would be to run through the contents of the whole magazine. Congratulations on the most wonderful MLLE yet—a delight and challenge to the eye and to the mind.
S. P., Smith College,
Northampton, Mass.
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 1 March 1955*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Tuesday, 4 p.m.
Dear mother,
Just a note in the beginning of my most rugged week to let you know how things are – somehow its a comfort to think that this is March 1st, the same month that spring vacation begins – I am looking forward to two whole weeks of peace & study (I must review fantastic amounts for may “comprehensives”) in Wellesley. Plan to go to NYC from sat. till Mon. that weekend before to see Dorrie Licht’s wedding & Jan & Clai, which should be fun. This week is fantastically full. Am going (alone) to Amherst tonight to see “Othello”* for Shakespeare course & one of my best friends* is playing “Emelia” & got me a free ticket. Friday I have a Ger. written & Thursday & Friday is the enormous 3-session symposium on the “Mid-Century Novel”,* starring among others, Alfred Kazin, Saul Bellow* & Brendan Gill* – chaired by Miss Chase. – Cyrilly Abels just sent me a lovely telegram* offering me $10 to $50 (depending on fullness of material) to cover this thing, so must spend almost 3 solid days concentrating to do a good job on this. As you may imagine, I was very pleased at her assignment! Cross your fingers for me during these crowded days!
xx
sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 10 March 1955
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Thursday, March 10
Dearest mother . . .
It was a joy to get your cheerful letter this happy day which was all running rivulets, melting snow, and lilting spring – business first: would much appreciate your offer of $25 when possible – hope that will be the last I need ask of you – be assured I shall pay you back by summer – I am optimistic about my chances somehow. As is, I have large book & medecine bills to pay for the 2nd sem., so am always it seems, in need. Mlle is paying me $30 for my coverage & probably will use one of my ideas: publishing the best speech as a feature article. hope Smith will let them. At a talk & party at the Hampshire Bookshop on Monday,* Mary Ellen Chase made a lovely public announcement of my admission to Cambridge & even Pres. Wright came up to shake my hand – I somehow know I will get $4000 to cover those two years – somehow. Had a good talk with Mr. Kazin yesterday, who I hope will be a lifelong friend of mine. Mr. fisher is very pleased with my poetry, & I love that course above all – got A- in my last Ger. exam & only hope I can keep it up – These next two weeks are hardest, with 2 exams & 2 papers due next Friday, but I am somehow very happy always, in spite of the longdrawn tension of WAITING for a hundred things –
Love you all very much –
your own sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 13 March 1955
TLS with envelope,
Indiana University
Sunday morning, March 13
Dearest Mother . . . .
I have so loved getting your colorful Paul Gauguin cards . . . they really make my mail incandescent, with their lovely slices of orange, purple and gold between the black-and white of rejection slips. I have written three or four little poems,* partly humorous, about the sculpture and paintings I saw at the Whitney museum in NYC when I went there for the 1955 American exhibit.
Yesterday, Ruthie came over, and after an unsuccessful hour or more of looking in shops for dresses, I treated her to a cocktail and potato chips at Rahar’s. I feel a little sad that she and I are so far apart . . . she is without a doubt the leader of her friends in intelligence and good looks, and I find them terribly young and tedious: always smoking “cigs,” playing bridge and dying of boredom unless they can see a “real tremendous movie.” I can’t help but think that most of them are rather empty, and have never gotten beyond a highschool mentality. The mention of anything intelligent or the least bit academic shocks them to death. As I say, Ruth is the one exception I can find. I do feel that it was not my place to give a shower for her here, since I am the only girl she knows at Smith, and it would be most peculiar to ask all her friends---girls I’ve met only once briefly, and whose names I don’t even remember, except that they are all Bizes and Lizes--- to Hamp. So I shall compensate by getting an extra-special wedding gift. Should I get her an engagement present too? As far as I can see, the kind of dress I’ll get for this will be the sort of thing I wont want to wear again, because the girls seem set on green, of all frightful things. Anyway, we’ll go shopping in Boston the Saturday after I get home.
In spite of the fact that this is my worst week of exams and papers, I am very happy, probably because Sue Weller and I spent the morning today playing tennis for the first time in the season and I feel the sluggish gloomy weight of the winter dropping away and am getting agile on my feet again. As a native Californian, Sue is an excellent player, and thinks I have great possibilities. So we look forward to a season of playing together. I never felt so lively as today for months, and I am determined to keep up this exercise, and to go out for crew again this spring the way I did last fall. I am not bad, if I practice, and I love the feeling of being up early in the morning and having my muscles tightening: basically, I think, I am an “outdoor” girl, as well as a contemplative sedentary writer.
Mlle just sent my lovely pink check,* which will pay my book bill at least. Somehow with the coming of the spring, nothing really bothers me, and I feel very happy and optimistic. I am turning out five poems a week and they get better and better. I hope to write a lot this summer and try to get a little book of them into print in about a year: think I’ll try out for the Yale Series of Younger Poets. Just for fun.
By the way, after my exams in the end of May, I shall have about five days till graduation weekend and wonder if you would mind if I brought Sue Weller home for those days. I think you will like her next best to Marty . . . she is beautifully plump, quite reserved, until you get to know her, and brilliant in economics and government. Really, she is my closest friend in the house and I should love to have the family meet her . . . I’d also like to play tennis with her daily, show her my dear Nauset beach, and just relax, nothing to put out any extra work for, really.
I am happy to say that my plans for spring vacation have altered favorably. Instead of coming back here a week early, the way I thought I’d have to, I hope to get all my papers done in a push beforehand, and compromise by bringing a suitcase of books home and writing poems and reading for two lovely weeks in Wellesley. I should either come home Tuesday March 29, or Wednesday the 30th, depending on how my work goes.
The weekend after this, Sue Weller and I are going down to NYC to see Dorrie Licht, the brilliant musician of our trio, get married. It should be an exciting affair, and we’ve been invited to the reception too, the only girls from Smith going.
Don’t want to get any of your hopes up, but I can’t help telling you that my fates seem to be brewing up something quite good. The Fulbright Adviser here just got a letter from the agent in Oxford (saying I’d been recommended for one, nothing more) and mentioning that if I could be sure of providing for the second year that Lady Margaret Hall* at Oxford would admit me! Naturally this is all very hush-hush and I’m not even supposed to know as my Grant is apparently so
indeterminate, but to know that Oxford also accepted me, without even the aid of a Mary Ellen Chase, on the testimony of my record, a long Chaucer paper done for Mr. Patch, and an interview with the wife of the President of Kenyon College,* is a rather beautiful thing to contemplate. Especially after that smug obviously-Oxford professor at my Harvard interview told me it was impossible to get a Fulbright to either Oxford or Cambridge! Oh, even if I don’t get one, I know somehow that I will go! Imagine having a choice! Of course If I get a Fulbright, they will probably assign me to a particular one, but I hardly can worry about that!
Cross all your fingers for me this coming crucial month, your puddle-jumping daughter,
Sylvia
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 17 March 1955
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Thursday
March 17
Dear mother . . .
Just a quick note (which I hope gets to you before the rather grim infirmary letter) to say I got out yesterday after a stay of only 24 hours. The sleep and respite from pain did me a great deal of good, and I am now ready to face the round of exams (German & Shakespeare) which begin tomorrow – and term papers (Ger. & Am. lit.) which I plan to get done before vacation. Sue & I are both very excited about our trip to NYC for the weekend of Dorrie’s wedding – we are giving her a surprise shower at Rahar’s Monday, which naturally will cost a few dollars for gift & hors do’euvres for 20, but she is our “best” friend & so we are happy to do it – thank goodness I only have a few close friends – participating in weddings is too expensive for me on more than a minute scale. Have a wonderful time in Toledo & give my special love to the Frank Schober Jrs!
xx
siv
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 20 March 1955*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Sunday afternoon
Dear mother . . .
So nice to get your letter & many thanks for the check – I managed to live through my wicked week & celebrated by playing some invigorating tennis this morning. From 6-8 last night I had the pleasant surprise of a visit from Marty & Mike who had come down to coach a rugby game – had fun talking to a charming friend of theirs* – a Cambridge grad from Eng. – who said I was terribly lucky to be accepted at the two best “colleges” at Cambridge & Oxford – & said the choice was only between two heavens, & so not to worry – presented an enchanting picture of spring boating & may “balls” & gardens there – Sue & I are giving dorri a surprise shower at rahar’s tomorrow before our NYC jaunt next friday for wedding & reception. This Wednesday, I am excited about a 2nd visit from that charming young editor at harcourt & brace whom Mr. Kazin sent up to see me last fall when I was at the infirmary – he is a dear, & I have a pleasant suspicion this is a personal & not professional call. Love to you and Frank, Louise & the two young men
xx
sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 24 March 1955
TLS, Indiana University
Thursday, March 24
Dearest Mother . . .
I thought I’d write a note in the midst of packing for New York City to catch you up on the latest news here, as I won’t write again probably until I come home to the house Sunday night. As yet I haven’t decided whether to come home Tuesday to avoid the holiday rush, or whether I’ll have so much last minute business to do here that I’ll have to wait till Wednesday. I have a feeling I’ll take the 5 p.m. bus Tuesday, but will let you know definitely Sunday night.
News here is as always small; I don’t expect to have the deluge begin till after April 1, which is when I’ll be at home. One exquisite thing is that Smith has just given me a fellowship of $1,000 (one thousand) for graduate study abroad (!) which surprised me no end, as their highest listed fellowship is only seven hundred, and the one I got is listed only as about five hundred. Naturally, if my Fulbright comes through, I will turn back the fellowship as the Fulbright even covers postage stamps and book allowance, but it is wonderful to have such a backlog to begin with, as it means I can go to England definitely for one year at least, if I work hard this summer. I feel that even better things are in the wind.
Dorri’s shower at Rahar’s was a huge success in spite of the inhospitable snow. Fifteen people came, and the hors d’oeuvres were delicious (Sue and I supplied them at $6 apiece). Best of all, Dorri was completely surprised and very happy with her gifts. I look most forward to her wedding Saturday, in Mount Vernon, New York.
I am really glad to be getting off for this weekend, as it has been much too long a pull through this bad weather and study discipline this past eternal two months, and I have reached my limits of creative study and effort. Realizing which, I have no compunction about taking my usual tonic: a weekend of complete change in people and a more gay, relaxed atmosphere. Dear Claiborne and Avrom are opening their arms to me as ever, and those two dear people are as close, in a different way, as Marty and Mike. When I come back, I shall again be ready to do the fantastic reading and writing program I have over spring vacation. I really need a respite from the daily round of classes and waitressing, and stoic living. It will be good to read and write in peace at home.
There are only a few people I want to see: Mrs. Prouty, Mr. Crockett, Patsy, and Dr. Beuscher, of course. And I do hope Warren will be around. I miss him very much, and am hungry for talking with him again, as I am for living with you all. There is nothing like an alternation of work and play to keep one fresh and spirited. Fortunately, I am building up a list of outlets and tonics for my periodic slackening times. In the summer, it will be tennis, swimming, sunning and sailing. In the winter, New York is a help, and I hope to add skiing in the Alps next year!
My Harcourt & Brace editor, a charming young man of 26 (!), graduate of Harvard and recent recipient of a Fulbright to Cambridge University, came up Wednesday on his quarterly trip to bookshops in our environs. We had a charming long lunch and talk at Rahar’s, after which we drove over to the bookshop at Holyoke and I browsed while he talked to the owner. The ride was a treat, and if he drops by in June on his visit to Hathaway House, I hope you have a chance to meet him: Peter Davison is his name; his father* is an English teacher at Hunter College, a visiting British poet.
That’s all for now. Hope you had a good trip at Frankie’s.
Lots of love to all,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 27 March 1955
TLS with envelope, Smith College
Sunday night, March 27,
Dearest mother . . .
So happy to hear about your exciting Toledo trip. I just got back from New York tonight myself, and am feeling calm and serene as the Mona Lisa, all ready for a session of reading and writing at home. I plan to bring a suitcase of books, a tennis outfit, a tea dress, and a theater dress. That should take care of everything.
First off, I have a request. Sue Weller would love to come to our house for the last week of spring vacation, and I have practically told her definitely that we’d love to have her. She is the sort of girl who is just part of the family, like Marcia, and I would love to get your O.K. on this. She is staying in Cambridge with friends for the first week, and I plan to ride down on the 1:15 bus with her Wednesday. So I’ll be arriving about 5 p.m. Wednesday night alone, and would like to have her come over a week from that Wednesday, if it is all right with you. Do let me know.
The weekend was just as therapeutic as I knew it would be. Had a lovely luncheon with Claiborne on Friday afternoon. That night she and Avrom and I went to a French restaurant* for a long leisurely supper and got good balcony tickets to “Tea and Sympathy”.* We had a marvellous walk around the city, and Claiborne and I had a great talk which took place as we stood for an hour at the lighted skating rink in Rockefeller Center and watched the swooping skaters who so intrigued me when I first went with Marcia five years ago.
Saturday was Dorri’s wedding: a beautiful affair i
n a light, airy modern church, packed with about 300-400 society people from NYC, but exquisitely simple: the three bridesmaids wore just the kind of dress I’d love for Ruth’s wedding: perfectly plain princess cut, wonderful colors: copper and emerald. Dorri was so lovely it made me cry.
At first I felt shy about going to the reception in Dorri’s house, for I knew not a soul at the wedding, but the reception turned out to be a dear intimate affair, and as the only girl from Smith, I was greeted with a kiss by Dorri’s handsome father* who’d met me up here, and had lovely talks with the best man* whom I happened to know from Dartmouth, and a Smith girl* who graduated last year and is living in Oxford next year. The punch (champagne) and canapes were out of this world, and I ate so much I couldn’t manage supper, and left feeling most at home and happy.
Saturday night I was thrilled by Gian-Carlo-Menotti’s opera “The Saint of Bleeker Street.”* The music was dynamic, and the whole performance was sung with shuddering beauty and power; I don’t know when I’ve been so moved . . . the fusion of the arts was flawless: the music, acting, and art of color, light, and group pantomime.
Came back this afternoon to a tantalizing letter* from the Atlantic Monthly (at last) saying they still had my poems, yes, and they had a deluge of poems, and asked me to “be patient with our slowness in coming to a decision about them . . . but since your work is too interesting to pass up without a struggle, we have held the poems for further argument. I hope that the verdict will be settled very shortly.” Well! If they have the gall not to accept one after this (and I am sure they will give an equally laconic refusal) I shall be really angry; art may be long to the Atlantic, but my life is fleeting, and I would like to recirculate the poems. Ah well, I leave them to struggle!