Part 25 (2/2)

For Sylvia then came electroshock therapy and finally her well-publicized disappearance, subsequent discovery and consequent hospitalization for psychotherapy and more shock treatment. She wrote: ”A ”A time of darkness, despair, disillusion--so black only as the inferno of the human mind can be--symbolic death, and numb shock--then the painful agony of slow rebirth and psychic regeneration.” time of darkness, despair, disillusion--so black only as the inferno of the human mind can be--symbolic death, and numb shock--then the painful agony of slow rebirth and psychic regeneration.”

Subsequently Sylvia returned to Smith College and reconquered ”old broncos that threw me for a loop last year.” At the [image]

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beginning of the next summer she wrote that ”a semester of reconstruction ends with an infinitely more solid if less flas.h.i.+ngly spectacular flourish than last year's.” By the end of the next academic year, she had sold more poems, earned additional prizes, and written her long paper for English honors on the double personality in Dostoyevski's novels. In June 1955 she graduated from Smith College summa c.u.m laude summa c.u.m laude with the prospect of an English Fulbright year in Newnham College at Cambridge University. There Sylvia met the British poet Ted Hughes, whom she married in London on June 16, 1956: Bloomsday. Sylvia's Fulbright was renewed and, after a vacation in Spain, Ted and Sylvia lived in Cambridge for another year. Then, in the spring of 1957, they moved to the United States, where Sylvia was a.s.sessed by her colleagues as ”one of the two or three finest instructors ever to appear in the English department at Smith College.” with the prospect of an English Fulbright year in Newnham College at Cambridge University. There Sylvia met the British poet Ted Hughes, whom she married in London on June 16, 1956: Bloomsday. Sylvia's Fulbright was renewed and, after a vacation in Spain, Ted and Sylvia lived in Cambridge for another year. Then, in the spring of 1957, they moved to the United States, where Sylvia was a.s.sessed by her colleagues as ”one of the two or three finest instructors ever to appear in the English department at Smith College.”

It is probable that Sylvia already had a version of The Bell Jar The Bell Jar in her trunks when she returned to the States, but she was concentrating on poetry and on teaching. In June 1958, she applied for a Eugene F. Saxton Memorial Fellows.h.i.+p to complete her book of poems. The Saxton Fellows.h.i.+p had been established ”to honor an outstanding editor of Harper & Brothers”; the trust, at the discretion of the trustees, gave outright grants of money to writers for living expenses. Agreement of all three trustees was necessary to make the grant, and one of them, who called the sample poems ”beyond reproach,” noted that ”in looking over Mrs. Hughes' history, I see that she has had valuable awards dropped into her lap during most of her adult life. Perhaps it would not do her any real harm to continue her work for a while as a teacher in a fine college. My impulse is rejection, though I think the quality of her work ent.i.tles her to serious consideration.” In October 1958 the application was rejected with a special letter from the secretary to the trustees, who wanted Mrs. Hughes to know that ”your application aroused more than ordinary interest. The talent--which is marked--was not a matter for dispute but rather the nature of the project.” in her trunks when she returned to the States, but she was concentrating on poetry and on teaching. In June 1958, she applied for a Eugene F. Saxton Memorial Fellows.h.i.+p to complete her book of poems. The Saxton Fellows.h.i.+p had been established ”to honor an outstanding editor of Harper & Brothers”; the trust, at the discretion of the trustees, gave outright grants of money to writers for living expenses. Agreement of all three trustees was necessary to make the grant, and one of them, who called the sample poems ”beyond reproach,” noted that ”in looking over Mrs. Hughes' history, I see that she has had valuable awards dropped into her lap during most of her adult life. Perhaps it would not do her any real harm to continue her work for a while as a teacher in a fine college. My impulse is rejection, though I think the quality of her work ent.i.tles her to serious consideration.” In October 1958 the application was rejected with a special letter from the secretary to the trustees, who wanted Mrs. Hughes to know that ”your application aroused more than ordinary interest. The talent--which is marked--was not a matter for dispute but rather the nature of the project.”

Meanwhile the Hugheses had moved to a small apartment on Beacon Hill, ”living on a shoestring for a year in Boston writing to see what we could do.” Sylvia had made the difficult decision to give up teaching, and to discard an academic plan for which she had been groomed since childhood, in exchange for a less certain existence but one which she hoped would give her more time to write. However, as the year progressed, and her book of poems was repeatedly submitted and rejected under everchanging tides, she wrote: Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing, which remark I guess shows I still don't have a pure motive (O it's-such-fun-I-just-can't-stop-who-cares-if-it's-published-or-read) about writing....I still want to see it finally ritualized in print.

In December 1959, Ted and Sylvia returned to England to live. In April 1960 their first child, Frieda, was born. At last Sylvia's book of poetry, The Colossus, The Colossus, was accepted for fall publication by William Heinemann Limited. Subsequently Sylvia suffered a miscarriage, then an appendectomy, and then became pregnant again. On May 1, 1961, she again applied for a Eugene F. Saxton Fellows.h.i.+p; this time in order to finish a novel which she described as one-sixth completed--about fifty pages. On the application Sylvia had asked for money to cover ”babysitter or nanny at about $5 a day, 6 days a week for a year, $1,560. Rent of study at about $10 a week: $520 for a year. Total: $2,080....(At present I am living in a two room flat with my husband and year old baby and having to work part time to meet living expenses. )” To a friend she wrote that she was ”over one third through a novel about a college girl building up for and going through a nervous breakdown.” She wrote: was accepted for fall publication by William Heinemann Limited. Subsequently Sylvia suffered a miscarriage, then an appendectomy, and then became pregnant again. On May 1, 1961, she again applied for a Eugene F. Saxton Fellows.h.i.+p; this time in order to finish a novel which she described as one-sixth completed--about fifty pages. On the application Sylvia had asked for money to cover ”babysitter or nanny at about $5 a day, 6 days a week for a year, $1,560. Rent of study at about $10 a week: $520 for a year. Total: $2,080....(At present I am living in a two room flat with my husband and year old baby and having to work part time to meet living expenses. )” To a friend she wrote that she was ”over one third through a novel about a college girl building up for and going through a nervous breakdown.” She wrote: I have been wanting to do this for ten years but had a terrible block about Writing A Novel. Then suddenly in beginning negotiations with a New York publisher for an American edition of my poems, the d.y.k.es broke and I stayed awake all night seized by fearsome excitement, saw how it should be done, started the next day & go every morning to my borrowed study as to an office & belt out more of it.

In the summer, the Hugheses moved to Devon to live in a thatch-roofed country house, and on November 6, 1961, the secretary to the Saxton trustees wrote that they had voted to give her a grant in the amount of $2,080, ”the sum you suggested.” Sylvia replied, ”I was very happy to receive your good letter today telling about the Saxton Fellows.h.i.+p. I certainly do plan to go ahead with the novel and the award comes at a particularly helpful time to free me to do so.”

On January 17, 1962, a son, Nicholas, was born. The days were divided among the babies, housework, and writing, but on February 10, 1962, Sylvia punctually delivered her first quarterly report on the progress of her novel to the Saxton trustees. ”During the past three months the novel has progressed very satisfactorily, according to my drafted schedule. I have worked through several rough drafts to a final version of Chapters 5 through 8, completing a total of 105 pages of the novel in all, and have outlined in detail Chapters 9 through l2.” Then she gave in detail the plans for The Bell jar. The Bell jar. Although the novel was going well, Sylvia complained to a friend that she felt she was doing little work: ”a couple of poems I like a year looks like a Although the novel was going well, Sylvia complained to a friend that she felt she was doing little work: ”a couple of poems I like a year looks like a [image]

lot when they come out, but in fact are points of satisfaction separated by large vacancies.” On May 1, 1962, in the next quarterly report to the Saxton trustees, she wrote, ”The novel is getting on very well, and according to schedule. I have completed Chapters 9 through 12 (pages 106-166) and projected in detailed outline the next lap of the book.” By June 1962 she could tell a friend: ”I'm writing again. Really writing. I'd like you to see some of my new poems.” She had begun the Ariel Ariel poems and was confident enough to want to show them, to have them read, to read them aloud. These poems were different: her husband has written that ”Tulips” ”was the first sign of what was on its way. She wrote this poem without her usual studies over the thesaurus, and at top speed, as one might write an urgent letter. From then on, all her poems were written in this way.” poems and was confident enough to want to show them, to have them read, to read them aloud. These poems were different: her husband has written that ”Tulips” ”was the first sign of what was on its way. She wrote this poem without her usual studies over the thesaurus, and at top speed, as one might write an urgent letter. From then on, all her poems were written in this way.”

On August 1, 1962, Sylvia sent her final progress report to the Saxton trustees: The novel is rounding out now, shaping up pretty much as planned, and I have completed Chapters 13 through 16 (pages 167-221) and am hoping the last lap goes as well.

After a vacation in Ireland, Sylvia and Ted decided to separate for a while. The summer had been difficult. She had suffered repeated attacks of flu accompanied by high fever. Another winter in Devon seemed impossible. She began to commute to London, where she was ”getting work with the BBC” and hunting for a flat. The ma.n.u.script of The Bell Jar The Bell Jar had been sent to the trustees of the Saxton Fellows.h.i.+p in the States, and Heinemann had accepted the novel in England and was setting it into type. A few days before Christmas, Sylvia moved herself and the children to London, where she had signed a five-year lease on a flat: had been sent to the trustees of the Saxton Fellows.h.i.+p in the States, and Heinemann had accepted the novel in England and was setting it into type. A few days before Christmas, Sylvia moved herself and the children to London, where she had signed a five-year lease on a flat: ...a small miracle happened--I'd been to Yeats' tower at Ballylea while in Ireland & thought it the most beautiful & peaceful place in the world; then, walking desolately around my beloved Primrose Hill in London and brooding on the hopelessness of ever finding a flat...I pa.s.sed Yeats' house, with its blue plaque ”Yeats lived here” which I'd often pa.s.sed & longed to live in. A sign board was up--flats to rent, I flew to the agent. By a miracle you can only know if you've ever tried to flat hunt in London, I was first to apply....I am here on a 5 year lease & it is utter heaven...and it's Yeats' house, which right now means a lot to me.

Sylvia took the finding of the Yeats house for a sign. She told a friend that when she went out to look for flats that day, she had ”known” she would find it, and so, with that confirmation, she began to make plans with energetic a.s.surance. She was working on a new novel, and the Ariel Ariel poems were continuing to flow. She told another friend that she thought of poems were continuing to flow. She told another friend that she thought of The Bell jar The Bell jar ''as an autobiographical apprentice work which I had to write in order to free myself from the past.” But the new novel, about more recent events in her life, she regarded as strong, powerful and urgent. ''as an autobiographical apprentice work which I had to write in order to free myself from the past.” But the new novel, about more recent events in her life, she regarded as strong, powerful and urgent.

When The Bell jar The Bell jar was published, in January 1963, Sylvia was distressed by the reviews, although another reader, not the author and not under the same sorts of stress, might have interpreted the critics' views of the novel far differently. Lawrence Lerner in the was published, in January 1963, Sylvia was distressed by the reviews, although another reader, not the author and not under the same sorts of stress, might have interpreted the critics' views of the novel far differently. Lawrence Lerner in the Listener Listener wrote, ”There are criticisms of America that the neurotic can make as well as anyone, perhaps better, and Miss Lucas makes them brilliantly.” The wrote, ”There are criticisms of America that the neurotic can make as well as anyone, perhaps better, and Miss Lucas makes them brilliantly.” The Times Literary Supplement Times Literary Supplement observed that the author ”can certainly write,” and went on to say that ”if she can learn to shape as well as she imagines, she may write an extremely good book.” In the observed that the author ”can certainly write,” and went on to say that ”if she can learn to shape as well as she imagines, she may write an extremely good book.” In the New Statesman) New Statesman) Robert Taubman called Robert Taubman called The Bell jar The Bell jar ”the first feminine novel in a Salinger mood.” ”the first feminine novel in a Salinger mood.”

In 1970, Aurelia Plath, her mother, wrote a letter to Sylvia's editor at Harper & Row in New York about the antic.i.p.ated publication of the first American edition of The Bell jar: The Bell jar: I realize that no explanation of the why why of personal suffering that this publication here [publication of of personal suffering that this publication here [publication of The Bell jar The Bell jar in the United States] will create in the lives of several people nor any appeal on any other grounds is going to stop this, so I shall waste neither my time nor yours in pointing out the inevitable repercussions....I do want to tell you of one of the last conversations I had with my daughter in early July, 1962, just before her personal world fell apart. Sylvia had told me of the pressure she was under in fulfilling her obligation to the Eugene Saxton Fund. As you know, she had been given a grant by this fund to enable her to write a novel. In the s.p.a.ce of time allotted, she had a miscarriage, an appendectomy, and had given birth to her second child, Nicholas. in the United States] will create in the lives of several people nor any appeal on any other grounds is going to stop this, so I shall waste neither my time nor yours in pointing out the inevitable repercussions....I do want to tell you of one of the last conversations I had with my daughter in early July, 1962, just before her personal world fell apart. Sylvia had told me of the pressure she was under in fulfilling her obligation to the Eugene Saxton Fund. As you know, she had been given a grant by this fund to enable her to write a novel. In the s.p.a.ce of time allotted, she had a miscarriage, an appendectomy, and had given birth to her second child, Nicholas.”What I've done,” I remember her saying, ”is to throw together events from my own life, fictionalizing to add color--it's a pot boiler really, but I think it will show how isolated a person feels when he is suffering a breakdown....I've tried to picture my world and the people in it as seen through the distorting lens of a bell jar.” Then she went on to say, ”My second book will show that same world as seen through the eyes of health.” Practically every character in The Bell jar The Bell jar represents someone--often in caricature--whom Sylvia loved; each person had given freely of time, thought, affection, and, in one case, financial help during those agonizing six months of breakdown in 1953...as this book stands by itself, it represents the basest ingrat.i.tude. That was not the basis of Sylvia's personality; it was the reason she became so frightened when, at the time of publication, the book was widely read and showed signs of becoming a success. Sylvia wrote her brother that ”this must never be published in the United States.”...The very t.i.tle represents someone--often in caricature--whom Sylvia loved; each person had given freely of time, thought, affection, and, in one case, financial help during those agonizing six months of breakdown in 1953...as this book stands by itself, it represents the basest ingrat.i.tude. That was not the basis of Sylvia's personality; it was the reason she became so frightened when, at the time of publication, the book was widely read and showed signs of becoming a success. Sylvia wrote her brother that ”this must never be published in the United States.”...The very t.i.tle The Bell Jar The Bell Jar should imply what Sylvia told me and that is what the astute reader should infer.... should imply what Sylvia told me and that is what the astute reader should infer....

It was the coldest winter in London since 1813-14. Light and heat went off at unannounced intervals. Pipes froze. She had applied, and her name was on the list, but a telephone had not yet been installed. Each morning before the children woke at eight, Sylvia worked on the Ariel Ariel poems. Here the sense of human experience as horrid and ungovernable, the sense of all relations.h.i.+ps as puppetlike and meaningless, had come to dominate her imagination. Yet she wrote with intensity, convinced that what she was now writing could be said by no one else. Always there was the need to be practical, to find time for the deliberate expression of anguish. Sylvia wrote, ”I feel like a very efficient tool or weapon, used and in demand from moment to moment....” She had seen a doctor who had prescribed sedatives and had arranged for her to consult a psychotherapist. She wrote for an appointment and had also written to her former psychiatrist in Boston. A recurrent problem of sinus infection developed. She had fired her poems. Here the sense of human experience as horrid and ungovernable, the sense of all relations.h.i.+ps as puppetlike and meaningless, had come to dominate her imagination. Yet she wrote with intensity, convinced that what she was now writing could be said by no one else. Always there was the need to be practical, to find time for the deliberate expression of anguish. Sylvia wrote, ”I feel like a very efficient tool or weapon, used and in demand from moment to moment....” She had seen a doctor who had prescribed sedatives and had arranged for her to consult a psychotherapist. She wrote for an appointment and had also written to her former psychiatrist in Boston. A recurrent problem of sinus infection developed. She had fired her au pair au pair girl and was waiting for a replacement ”to help with the babes mornings so I can write... nights are no good, I'm so flat by then that all I can cope with is music & brandy & water.” girl and was waiting for a replacement ”to help with the babes mornings so I can write... nights are no good, I'm so flat by then that all I can cope with is music & brandy & water.”

In spite of the help of friends and antic.i.p.ation of spring (she was to return to the house in Devon around May Day), she was despairing and ill. But the poems continued to come, even in the last week of her life--several extraordinary poems. To those around her it appeared that she had not given up. Frequently she seemed bright, cheerful, full of hope.

However, on the morning of February 11,1963, she ended her life. Who can explain why? why? As Sylvia had written earlier in the last optimistic pages of As Sylvia had written earlier in the last optimistic pages of The Bell Jar: The Bell Jar: How did I know that someday--at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere--the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn't descend again?

--that bell jar out of which she had once struggled brilliantly, successfully, apparently completely, but of which she could write with the clarity of one who has endured: ”to the person in The Bell Jar, black and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream.”

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