The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1

by Sylvia Plath

  Love to ALL.

  YOUR HAPPY SIVVY!

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Sunday 18 March 1956

  TLS (aerogramme),

  Indiana University

  Sunday afternoon

  March 18. 1956

  Dearest mother . . .

  It has been a lovely cool spring day, and I walked slowly through green meadows and herds of grazing cows to Granchester for coffee with Gary Haupt, a sweet, if pedantic, Fulbright student from Yale whom I no doubt mentioned before, and who saw me through a rather traumatic experience yesterday at the casualty ward of Addenbrooks Hospital, where I seem to be spending a good deal of time lately. I’d gotten some cinder or splinter in my eye Monday,* and tried to bathe it out, but the itch and hurt got worse and worse; in the midst of the rush of last week’s classes and final supervisions I chalked it up to a cold in my eye, and let it go till yesterday, when I couldn’t eat or sleep because of the irritation, so Gary took me to the doctor. I spent a difficult hour waiting in the casualty ward for my turn, listening to screams and seeing blood-stained people being wheeled by on stretchers. Finally the doctor examined me and said gravely: “Why didn’t you come in before?” and announced they would have to operate on my eye. Well, you can imagine my horror. Fortunately I was in such pain that I would have let them cut it out if only the hurt would stop. The doctor was very kind and gentle, and gave me a local anesthesia via drops which made my eye hard as a rock, and then proceeded to take all sorts of gruesome knives and scrapers and cut the imbedded cinder out of the brown-part of my eye while I looked on (couldn’t help it) and babbled about how Oedipus and Gloucester in King Lear got new vision through losing eyes, but how I would just as soon keep my sight and get new vision too. The operation was a success, and I went through the next 24 hours having to give myself eye-drops every hour to heal the hole, so couldn’t sleep all night. Gary was a great help and consolation and stood by me through the long operation and fed me wine and sherry all day and read Thurber aloud while I went through a very painful time as the anesthetic wore off. I’m having a final checkup tomorrow at the hospital, but feel fine now, except for being tired, and the world looks shining as eden through my healed eyes. I certainly have learned not to “be stoic” like the English, and to bear pain; the minute I itch or hurt ever, I’m going to fly to be examined. Luckily, under “the system”, this was all free! I have discovered that accidents are the best way to take advantage of socialized medecine! But hope this will be the last time I impose on their kindness. I really had a scare, and, knowing my imagination you can imagine how gruelling it was to be operated on fully conscious with both eyes open!

  Now I feel I deserve Paris and pampering. I’ve really slaved this term! I’m so happy to have this brilliant, attractive young woman for supervisor in philosophy next term, and am cutting out all classes and other academic supervisions to devote my all to her: I’m supposed to read all Plato and Aristotle over vacation! and will go right through the British moralists to literary moralists, up to D. H. Lawrence (on whom she gave the most frank, brilliant lecture I’ve ever heard on the redemptive power of love). Friday, I’m going to London, and early Saturday morning I’m driving with Emmet Larkin,* a Fulbright student whom I haven’t met yet, to Paris, where I shall stay about a week prior to meeting Gordon in Germany. Every time I think of the renewal of my Fulbright, I feel a blessed relief and joy. Only about 20 people out of about 200 get renewals, and most are doing research; both Gary and I got renewals in undergrad English, so I feel very lucky. Have already written Smith canceling application for aid there and thanking them.

  I wonder, by the way, if you’d consider being a literary agent for me? It would be so much easier than spending a fortune on postage for heavy mss. over here. I’m thinking now of my story the “Christmas Heart” which you have at home and would be so grateful if you would start sending it off now (simply with stamped, self-addressed large manila envelope inside, no letters) to a series of magazines in the order mentioned: when it comes back, just quote me the rejection and send it to the next. I’m going to try writing commercially once again, and might as well try the rounds on that story, which is not too bad. Just send it flat, on a piece of bracing cardboard to: (I think it was the Journal that rejected it) (address all letters to “Short Story Editor”)

  McCALL’S: 230 Park Avenue, New York 17, N.Y

  WOMAN’S HOME COMPANION: 640 Fifth Ave., NY 19, NY

  GOOD HOUSEKEEPING: 57th St. & 8th Ave., NY 19,

  WOMAN’S DAY: 19 West 44th St., Ny 36, NY.

  EVERYWOMAN’S: 16 East 40th Street, N.Y. 17

  After all these magazine reject it, send it to me, and I’ll try my luck in England. I am just starting to feel out the markets here, but the slicks printed here are much too rose-colored and improbable to be published at home; I admire the slick market in NYC and find the stories muscular, pragmatic, fine technically and with a good sense of humor. This one is probably too feminine and serious, but please, if it isn’t asking too much, try those five markets. This coming term, I’m going to write. I’d be happiest writing, I think, with a vital husband; if that doesnt happen for a while, I’ll write while teaching. No more advanced degrees for me. I have no desire to be a critic or scholar. Amusingly enough, all the scholarly boys I know here think of me as a 2nd Virginia Woolf! Some of them are so idealistic! It’s a wonderful world, and I want to live an active creative life, giving of my joy and love to others. My love to you, and do let me know how dear grammy is, and how Warren’s plans are coming. His program sounds so esoteric!

  Love from your bright-eyed

  Sivvy

  TO Gordon Lameyer

  Sunday 18 March 1956

  TLS (aerogramme),

  Indiana University

  sunday, march 18

  dear gordon . . .

  I have just come back from the casualty ward of the hospital here (where I seem to be spending most of my time) after a rather gruelling operation on my eye for a splinter of glass which got in it, and, being rather punchy from no sleep, may sound slightly shook; the blessing is, I can see perfectly now, and after a week of hell, the world looks shining and blessed as eden and I am in a “fern hill” mood.*

  essentially, this letter will be bulletins: I’m staying in cambridge till the 23rd of march, when I have a ride from london to paris. I’ll be in paris till you and I meet, and so you can send your final messages to me c/o the american express, 11 rue scribe, paris from this coming saturday, the 24th, on. I plan to sit at holiday tables, sketch, and read along the seine. I would be happy if you got the flight to london and came to pick me up in paris on your way to germany. on the other hand, if I met you in germany, the best place would be munich, I think, which might put the date off later for you, since you want to do such business about universities before heading south. as you probably leave the states late in march or early april, give me the best address for me to telegraph our final meeting time and place from paris. if you could write me a letter in paris telling me of your final flight plans and your preference for itinerary (meeting me either in munich, later, or paris, when you come), I shall be able to write back ultimate confirmation.

  my time will be limited by the fact that I have to be back in cambridge on april 14th, ready to plunge into an arduous semester of study on the moralists in philosophy, starting with plato and ending up with d. h. lawrence under a brilliant, but demanding, supervisor. thus perhaps I could plan to fly to london from rome on the 13th or 14th, and you coming or not, as you wished. it might be best for you to see your relatives then, and then come back for a short stay with me in cambridge, after I had got my first week of term’s work accomplished.

  naturally, I hope that we can spend as much time as possible in my 3 favorite aimed cities Venice, Florence and Rome. somehow, it seems a little like sacrilege to “run through” them without having a few days at least in each, and if you’re willing, I’d be pleased to drive right through central europe and
concentrate on absorbing italian atmosphere for at least a week. how about that? I’d rather soak up these three places than just dash through on one-night stands. I do have a beautiful and enchanting friend in switzerland who has invited us to come visit her for a day or two,* but that will probably be impossible with our limited time. I just wish my vacation began and ended later, but we are so damn lucky anyway that even 2 weeks coincide!

  about finances: I shall be fortunate if I get even a few pounds smuggled into france to keep me alive for the week or 10 days I’ll be in paris, so shall probably be close to broke when I see you. however, if you could possibly help me with expenses while we travel, I’d be able to reimburse you in pounds (as much as we mutually decide upon) as soon as we get to england. I’ll be happy to be your guest part of the time, if you feel desirous of this; I’m not all that rigidly scrupulous, if you feel endowed enough to host now and then, or often as you please. we’ll talk about this when we get together.

  as for the “us” part of this: I am proud to think that we are both strong enough to be dear, good friends and am sure that the trip will be a fine one. we can “be alone” with each other, I mean, in our particular selves (I always feel more free when I’m traveling with someone, because it makes a whole unit, complete in itself, and then I’m not beset with pick-ups or unsought conversation) and both modulate our own plans to make a fruitful voyage. I feel so at ease with you, and will always be so interested in your ideas and experiences, that we shall probably have a most wonderful time making discoveries together and adventuring. I shall never get over the feeling that we “go together” in an important way, however the currents of our mutual lives may diverge in actuality; and so, will always want to be aware of a rich friendship with you. in this light, I think, we shall have a fine time together; we can enjoy each other thoroughly as highly congenial people.

  ah well, I am not saying as well as I should, partly because I haven’t slept for two days, and ergo am rather blurred after this most traumatic experience. write me in paris and tell me what day and time you’ll meet me there or in munich (there is a day train getting into munich from paris at sometime around 9 or 10 in the evening). do let me know as soon as you can. also, whether you’d like to haste to italy as soon as possible, too. your mother wrote me a dear letter last week which I enjoyed so much. it will be nice, in a way, to be “taken care of” a bit again, or to have a protective man guard me: I seem to get into more drastic predicaments!

  I am looking extremely forward to this trip and hope to hear from you very soon.

  until april,

  your fond sylvia

  TO Aurelia Schober Plath

  Tuesday 20 March 1956

  TLS (aerogramme),

  Indiana University

  Tuesday noon

  March 20, 1956

  Dearest mother . . .

  I received your lovely letter this morning with the note about the Saxton Fund, which I am coming to believe is exactly the chance I want to devote a year to nothing but writing while living in southern France and Italy. It is possible to write while studying or teaching, but I need an opportunity to concentrate on nothing but for a year to find my style, my voice. I do believe I have one! But the complex life here, and the academic demands of my Fulbright, make writing too incidental.

  Do tell me what the doctor’s verdict is on grammy’s difficulty. She is such a dear, courageous woman, and I love her so! And I only hope you are not straining yourself too much with this double life of teacher and visiting nurse! When you come to England in June, I want you to worry about nothing, and I shall take complete charge of you for at least 10 days! Already so many lovely plans are sprouting in my head!

  My eye is getting better every day: I am going tomorrow to the hospital for a final check-up. Your postal money order finally came, and I went out this morning for my pre-Europe shopping trip: had my hair trimmed (I feel so worldly when I tell the sweet hairdresser: “Yes, I’m spending the easter vacation in Paris and Rome!”) and investigated a different bank, where I wheedled my way around currency regulations and bought francs with pounds (you have no idea how hard it is for me to maneuver between the legal pitfalls, but I signed a business man’s form for travel-allowance abroad, and told them I was writing articles.)

  I must admit that a smile and a helpless gentle air go a long way. I was charioted about the bank after hours, and given a marvelous exchange rate, and found that this bank would let me open an “American account”, so that you can please send me any checks I get in dollars in America, and they will convert them into dollar traveler’s checks. I’m living completely on my Fulbright, & do feel justified in working “deals” to travel abroad. Shh. I’m very careful.

  In a splurge, I bought not one but three exquisite cashmere sweaters this morning! I haven’t looked at clothes since I’ve been here, and felt rather dowdy: they are the most divine colors, and at least $5 to $7 cheaper than in America. I got two long-sleeved ones, in a luscious turquoise and cherry-red with blue in it, and a short-sleeved deep jade or forest green one! Now for the job of sewing in shields! Next fall I think I may well invest in a London tweed suit and coat which would be more practical for informal living than my charcoal gray cashmere coat; since I have to spend all my Fulbright money in England, I want to make the most of it! My sweaters were a kind of spring gift to myself for working so hard this term and being brave for my eye operation; I feel so happy with them!

  I am just beginning to rest up again, and by the time I go to London Friday should feel like a new woman. Yesterday I spent with a very nice boy from Trinity College* whom I met in the casualty ward last week. He took me on a long liesurely walk along the Backs where the crocuses are a riot of purple and gold and already students are lounging on the brilliant green grass under the spires of King’s Chapel reading poetry or just lazily watching the punts maneuver past. Such a sense of timeless peace. You will love this.

  Where, by the way, is the money for grammy’s hospital care coming from? I am so lucky here under “the system” for I have to pay nothing for doctor’s or hospital fees while the British have to pay large weekly amounts insurance. I must say, too, I am happier every day to be an American! For all the golden “atmosphere” of England, there is an oppressive ugliness about even the upper middle class homes, an ancient, threadbare dirtiness which at first shocked me; our little white house is a gem of light and color compared to the dwellings here. On a low budget in America, one can have stylish clothes and mobility and health. And the “class-system” is really nonexistent. Someday maybe I’ll have a home in the Conn. valley, lots of children, stories and Cape Cod summers!

  I am so happy Warren is well and jumping again! I really miss him, and hope it will be possible to see him in Germany this summer! I think I may go out for the university weekly newspaper* next term as reporter, for I believe that my Fulbright renewal had something to do with my acting and writing and thus “mixing” with Britishers and giving something, instead of just grubbing in the library. I’d meet a lot of interesting people and keep my hand in the reporting line, which will be good practice, and also, be on “the inside” of Cambridge life. This summer I think I’ll either take ballet or horseback riding lessons! I have so much energy, I’d like to put it to formal use, and want to be a Renaissance woman all my life long. Now that spring is here, and I can see, and am getting rested, all seems possible. Please give my dearest love to grammy; I think of her constantly, and wish for her health. She is a saintly woman. Keep a large amount of love for yourself, and take good care: I want a rosy fat mummy to meet me in June!

  Love to all –

  sivvy

  TO Aurelia Greenwood Schober

  Wednesday 21 March 1956*

  ALS (picture postcard),

  Indiana University

 

  Trinity Bridge, Cambridge.

  4 Barton Road

  Cambridge, Eng.

  Dearest grammy . . .

&n
bsp; The leaves along the river aren’t out like this yet, but it’s warm enough to boat between banks of purple & gold crocuses! I do hope you’ll feel much better with the returning spring and I wanted to send you Easter greetings together with all my love & hope for your getting better soon. If you only knew how much I think of you & miss you! My Love to dear grampy, too.

  Your own roving granddaughter –

  Sylvia

  TO Jane V. Anderson

  Wednesday 21 March 1956

  TLS (photocopy), Smith College

  Wednesday, March 21

  Dear Jane . . .

  It was so nice to hear from you and learn about your plans for coming to Europe this summer. I shall be in Cambridge till about June 10th, and would like so much to see you and Dot Wormser* when you come (I remember her vaguely from some art courses at Smith). Cambridge will probably be at its best then, with exams over, & the legendary May Balls in full swing, which last till dawn with breakfasts in the apple orchards in Granchester. Please do come up and let’s plan to have lunch, and maybe I can consider myself expert enough on Cambridge by then to take you about: although you’ll probably be able to tell me a good deal about the fine & complex architecture which has been surrounding me for the past year! Spring has already begun here, after the arduous siberian winter, and crocuses are sprouting in yellow and purple along the Backs under the spires of King’s Chapel, while a kind of gold haze gives an atmosphere of centuries of peace along the narrow river where punts are out already.

  I was so interested to hear about your plans for med school and can’t tell you how much I admire you; you certainly are working toward a difficult, most rewarding career. Let me know where you finally decide to go: you’re right about the importance of being a doctor coming first, & the particular school being secondary. Harvard seems to give an especially hard time. I don’t remember whether I told you about a gruelling interview I had there last winter (by four men, all at once!) when they spent almost an hour asking me difficult & mocking questions (on everything from philsophies of teaching to what I thought of marriage), & ended up by refusing me a scholarship. I can understand how difficult some of your interviews must have been.