This article argues that Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes were part of a propaganda effort, likely orchestrated by Jewish individuals, to promote a particular narrative about them. The author, Miles Mathis, claims that Plath and Hughes’s Jewish ancestry is deliberately obscured, and that Plath’s life and work, including her alleged mental health struggles and suicide, were fabricated or exaggerated to serve a larger agenda. Mathis meticulously analyzes Plath’s and Hughes’s backgrounds, their families, and their literary works, looking for evidence of hidden Jewish connections and manipulative intent. He criticizes their poetry as lacking genuine talent and being deliberately obscure, serving only to promote a negative view of men and a romanticized image of mental illness. The author also scrutinizes the film adaptations of Plath’s life and the institutions involved in her care, suggesting widespread conspiracy. Ultimately, Mathis concludes that both Plath and Hughes were manufactured figures, and their legacies are part of a broader “Phoenician” (a term Mathis uses for what he perceives as a manipulative elite) agenda to corrupt society.
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This article argues that Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes were part of a propaganda effort, likely orchestrated by Jewish individuals, to promote a particular narrative about them. The author, Miles Mathis, claims that plath and Hughes’s Jewish ancestry is deliberately obscured, and that plath’s life and work, including her alleged mental health struggles and suicide, were fabricated or exaggerated to serve a larger agenda. Mathis meticulously analyzes plath’s and Hughes’s backgrounds, their families, and their literary works, looking for evidence of hidden Jewish connections and manipulative intent. He criticizes their poetry as lacking genuine talent and being deliberately obscure, serving only to promote a negative view of men and a romanticized image of mental illness. The author also scrutinizes the film adaptations of plath’s life and the institutions involved in her care, suggesting widespread conspiracy. Ultimately, Mathis concludes that both plath and Hughes were manufactured figures, and their legacies are part of a broader “Phoenician” (a term Mathis uses for what he perceives as a manipulative elite) agenda to corrupt society.
The author begins by questioning the appearance of Sylvia Plath, suggesting a photograph has been tampered with to make her appear blonde, and uses this as an initial clue to her purported Jewish heritage. He states that plath’s ancestry is “definitely Jewish on both sides.” Her mother was Aurelia Schober, and her grandmother was Aurelia Romana Grunwald (or Greenwood). He notes Aurelia is an ancient Roman/Phoenician name, linked to the Aurelian dynasty and the first emperors. He references a 2003 film with Gwyneth Paltrow that also depicted plath as blonde, continuing the alleged propaganda.
Mathis mentions Ethnicelebs as a source for names like Heimer, Kroberger, and Witt associated with the plath family in Wisconsin. He lists other plath family surnames: Lau, Bader, Thym, Luedtke, Missall, Schwandt, Lambrecht, Sell, and Catt. He speculates Lambrecht might be a variation of Lamberg.
On plath’s father’s side, he cites Geneastar for her great-grandmother being a Katzsezmadek, which he equates to the Jewish name Katz. Wikipedia allegedly scrubs Sylvia’s grandmother, but lists her as a Kottke, also deemed Jewish. Kottke is presented as an abbreviation of Kottulinsky, related to Grafs (earls) in Germany and connected to von Ottenfels, von Merans, von Lambergs, and von Osterreichs. The author links the von Osterreichs to the Holy Roman Emperors, the Bourbons, the Habsburgs, the Liechtensteins, the Furstenbergs, the Eichmanns, and others. He suggests the promotion of Sylvia Plath stems from these connections. The Kottulinskys are said to be from Graz, in Styria, a place also associated with Arnold Schwarzenegger, implying more “cousins.”
Mathis challenges the narrative of plath’s father, Otto, being a blacksmith from Grabow who emigrated to the US in 1900. He questions the logic of seeking blacksmith work in an industrialized US and describes Otto’s quick transition to taking classes, clerking, and then enrolling in Northwestern University without skipping high school. He notes Otto went on to seminary, dropped out, and studied biology, eventually earning a Master of Arts. Otto was investigated by the FBI at age 32 for refusing to buy war bonds, which Mathis interprets as his becoming an agent. Otto later earned a second Master’s and a PhD in biology from Harvard, and taught at Boston University. His doctoral dissertation was on bumblebees, which Mathis interprets as a “cover” linked to Phoenicians. Otto married Sylvia’s mother at 47 and died of diabetes at 55. Sylvia had a younger brother, Warren.
The author then turns to Ted Hughes, Sylvia Plath’s husband, questioning his Gentile status. He claims Hughes’s mother was a Farrar, formerly Ferrar, related to the Earls of Barrymore, the Boyles (Earls of Cork), the Forbes, and the Chichesters. He notes Hughes and Ferrar families intermarried for centuries, citing Rosetta Ferrar and Edward Hughes in the 19th century, whose daughter married a Stirling, whose daughter married the Baron Lyell. Nicholas Ferrar (d. 1637) from the City of London is mentioned, described as an MP and Deacon involved with the Virginia Company and East India Company, and the publisher of George Herbert’s The Temple. Mathis links Herbert to his description. He discusses criticisms of the Ferrar household by Puritans as Arminians living in a “Protestant nunnery,” but notes they didn’t live a formal religious life. Mathis claims Wikipedia admits Hughes’s relation to the Ferrars through the Little Gidding community.
The Ferrars are further linked to Ferrari and Ferrara, and the Ferrers who came with William the Conqueror, the Earls of Derby before the Stanleys. They are also cousins of the Plantagenets through the Angoulemes. They lost their title to Edmund Crouchback, son of Henry III. Mathis believes misdirection regarding Hughes’s connections to the Hughes of the peerage confirms they are hiding something. He states Hughes is a Smith, as are the Hughes baronets, who are linked to the Griffiths of Wales. The first baronet was Commissioner of the Portsmouth Dockyard, which Mathis interprets as the “Phoenician Navy.” His son became Admiral of the Red.
Wikipedia reportedly states that most recent Hughes family generations worked in clothing and milling. Mathis connects Ted Hughes’s childhood home to Ewood Hall Manor, sold in 1471 to Henry Farrer. Bishop John Farrar, born there, allegedly surrendered Nostel Priory and became Bishop of St. David’s in Wales. Other names at Ewood include Spencer, also clothing manufacturers with the Farrers. Sir John Pilkington owned Elphabourgh Hall, located in the Earl de Warrene’s deer park at Erringen. Mathis sees “El” as a clue to the Post-Roman kingdom of Elmet, stretching from North Wales through Lancashire and Yorkshire to Kingston upon Hull. Ted Hughes is credited with writing ‘Remains of Elmet’. The author links “El” to “Ba’al”, the Phoenician high god. The Calder valley, where Hughes grew up, is described as a textile and wool trade route. The latter 50 years saw Hippies and Beat generations moving in, leading to the area being called the “lesbian/gay capital of the north.”
Mathis questions Hughes’s time in the Royal Air Force as a ground wireless mechanic, suggesting intelligence work, as he later went to Cambridge on an academic scholarship. At Cambridge, Hughes majored in Anthropology/Archaeology, which Mathis again implies was for intelligence work.
He critiques the film Sylvia, suggesting it falsely portrays Hughes and plath as coming from poverty, when they were “rich kids.” He notes plath’s appearance on an expensive bicycle in the film as evidence. He describes their meeting as portrayed in the film, where plath discovers Hughes’s poem “Fallgrief’s Girlfriend,” which he deems “wretched.” Mathis finds plath’s description of Hughes’s poetry as a “great wind blowing over steel girders” and Hughes’s persona as “huge and brash and bold” to be “bluster.” He calls the opening of the film Sylvia “Hollywood usual” and “Modern poetry usual, Ted Hughes style.” He criticizes the film’s depiction of their rapid romance. He also notes a swimming scene where plath wears a bikini, questioning its historical accuracy for the mid-50s.
Hughes and plath married in 1956, four months after meeting, on Bloomsday, a choice Mathis finds significant, linking it to James Joyce whom he calls a “major spook.” He states Leopold Bloom, Joyce’s hero in Ulysses, is a Jewish name, short for Bloomfield. He mentions Joyce’s biographer Richard Ellman (described as Jewish) admitting Bloom was based on Alfred H. Hunter, a Jew in Dublin. Mathis questions why Hughes and plath would marry on Bloomsday, interpreting it as a tribute to Joyce being “another cousin.”
plath’s mother was the only wedding guest and accompanied them on their honeymoon to Benidorm on the Spanish coast.
Mathis points out that plath typed Hughes’s manuscript for Hawk in the Rain, which won a poetry competition run by the Poetry Centre of the Young Men’s and Young Women’s Hebrew Association of New York. He notes Hughes won first prize, was published by Harper’s at 26, and won the Somerset Maugham Award. He asks if Maugham was Jewish, stating he was an Ormond and a Snell, and his brother was Lord Chancellor and 1st Viscount Maugham. In the film Sylvia, plath allegedly omits the “Hebrew part” when introducing Hughes’s prize. Mathis finds Hughes’s “first big break” in New York strange, and his claim in the film of not knowing he entered the competition implies plath was pulling strings for him. Mathis believes strings were pulled for both from “way higher up.” He notes plath was published in London first, which he finds unusual given the regional nature of poetry in the 1950s.
Mathis claims Ted Hughes left plath for Assia Wevill, but states this is a “dodge,” and she was really Assia Esther Gutmann, Jewish from Tel Aviv. She is described as older than Ted, married three times by 33, and died by suicide with her daughter.
plath’s rise is called “meteoric,” with her first poem published by the Christian Science Monitor before college, which Mathis finds odd. He notes Hughes and plath became interested in astrology and the supernatural during their first year of marriage, using Ouija boards, despite their supposed intelligence. plath is said to have had an IQ of 160.
After Cambridge, plath returned to Smith College, her alma mater, and was given a teaching position at 24. She quit after a year and moved to Boston for a seminar with Robert Lowell. She allegedly worked as a receptionist in the psychiatric ward of Massachusetts General Hospital, which Mathis finds concerning given her history of shock treatment and suicide attempts.
The author mentions plath and Hughes staying at Yaddo, an “artist’s community” in Saratoga Springs, which he calls a “spook community.” He believes Hughes and plath knew this. He claims Yaddo rhymes with “shadow” and is based on Hebrew, related to the letter yodh, “Yoda”, and “Woden”. Yaddo was funded by the Peabodys. Mathis asserts Yaddo housed spies, citing Agnes Smedley, and that an assistant director of Yaddo was an FBI informant, Mary Townsend. He lists writers from Yaddo as Bernstein, Arendt, Edelson, two Roths, Nozick, Heinlein, Heller, Belcourt, Kronenberger, Kay, Kunitz, and Meyer, all described as Jewish.
At 27, plath published her first collection, The Colossus, in 1960, which Mathis finds late given her earlier publications. He questions what she did for ten years. He notes the book was published first in England by Heinemann and ignored in the US, described as derivative of “bad” and “stridently Modern” works. Her more famous collection, Ariel, is deemed “even worse.”
Mathis argues plath was not a great poet, unlike Edna St. Vincent Millay, who had facility with language. He claims Millay was chosen for her family and beauty, but also had talent, whereas plath did not. He believes plath was suicidal from high school due to being promoted for no reason. He calls plath and others “Phoenies” who have “created their own little hells.”
He analyzes a line from The Colossus: “A blue sky out of the Oresteia / Arches above us. O father, all by yourself / You are pithy and historical as the Roman Forum.” He dismisses it as name-dropping and lacking depth. He questions the meaning of a father being “pithy and historical as the Roman Forum.” He describes the poem as empty of meter, rhyme, cadence, interesting word usage, and emotion, a “simulacrum.” He critiques another line, “The sun rises under the pillar of your tongue,” as an attempt to be clever and failing, derivative of Shelley and Ozymandias.
He examines the poem “Daddy,” calling it “still awful” and a “Phoenician lie” about poverty. He questions plath’s claim of living “like a foot / For thirty years, poor and white,” as her father died when she was eight, meaning she was free of him for 22 years. He criticizes the poem for implying she is white and good, while her father was black and bad, stating she was “pretty black herself inside.”
He quotes: “Daddy, I have had to kill you. / You died before I had time—— / Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, / Ghastly statue with one gray toe / Big as a Frisco seal / And a head in the freakish Atlantic / Where it pours bean green over blue / In the waters off beautiful Nauset.” He questions if Otto Plath was a monster and a rapist, doubting Sylvia’s reliability. He discusses an alleged rape by “Irwin” in 1954 at Smith, noting Sylvia’s friend Nancy Hunter Steiner confirms the claim, but admitting Sylvia agreed to sex and suffered a tear, which Mathis doesn’t classify as rape. He questions why she would call “Irwin” for a ride to the hospital or go on a picnic with him. He states plath falsified this event in The Bell Jar, omitting details and removing weeks from her journals, calling it “feminine skullduggery.”
Mathis points out three clues: steiner is a Jewish name; Sylvia lost her virginity the previous year to Richard Sassoon, described as Jewish from a billionaire family; and the final words “Ach, du” sound Yiddish. He asserts that “all of plath’s poetry reads very Jewish.”
He quotes from a poem: “In the German tongue, in the Polish town / Scraped fat by the roller / Of wars, wars, wars. / But the name of the town is common. / My Polack friend / Says there are a dozen or two. / So I never could tell where you / Put your foot, your root, / I never could talk to you. / The tongue stuck in my jaw.” He calls this “bald propaganda,” questioning Sylvia’s misdirection about her father’s origin from Grabow, Germany, rather than a Polish town.
He quotes: “An engine, an engine / Chuffng me off like a Jew. / A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. / I began to talk like a Jew. / I think I may well be a Jew.” He calls this “war propaganda as well as a bald admission” of being Jewish. He continues: “The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna / Are not very pure or true. / With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck / And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack / I may be a bit of a Jew. / I have always been scared of you, / With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. / And your neat mustache / And your Aryan eye, bright blue. / Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You——” Mathis interprets “gobbledygoo” as a misspelling of “gobbledygook.” He notes she rhymes “Jew” with itself multiple times.
He quotes: “my right foot / a paperweight, / my face a featureless, fne / Jew linen.” This is from “Lady Lazarus” in Ariel, which he sees as another admission of being Jewish. He questions why “Daddy,” which is not supposed to be about Jewish ancestry, diverts to this. He criticizes plath’s claim of a “gipsy ancestress” and an “Aryan” father, stating “the Nazis were Jewish themselves,” linking to the Eichmanns. He questions the rhyme scheme and dates in “Daddy,” specifically her burial of her father at ten when she was eight, suggesting it’s to imply he was more likely to rape her at that age.
He discusses Otto Plath potentially being a Nazi sympathizer but not a soldier. He notes his death in 1940 before the US entered the war. Sylvia’s mother, Aurelia, never accused him of being a Nazi, fascist, or child molester, and called Sylvia’s portrayals false and cruel, despite donating memorabilia to Smith College and Indiana University. Mathis finds Aurelia’s homeliness noteworthy and suggests family problems didn’t solely come from Otto. He questions Aurelia’s approval of Sylvia’s shock treatment before age 21, especially when Sylvia was upset about missed meetings with Dylan Thomas and Frank O’Connor.
Mathis considers if “Daddy” is a good poem, calling it “clunky and direct” and unlike other poems in Ariel. He suggests it might have been inserted later by someone else, pointing to plath’s statement about being happy until age nine and her father’s death, contrasting with the poem’s assertion of being ten. He compares the painting Raphael’s Sistine Madonna and Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring to “Daddy” as potentially fake or inserted works.
He analyzes the foreword to Ariel by Robert Lowell, who describes plath as “imaginary,” “created,” and “hardly a person at all,” a “super-real, hypnotic, great classical heroine.” Mathis interprets this as Lowell tacitly admitting plath was “created by some committee of creeps in Langley,” like everything else. He calls plath’s poems “illegible” and not classical. He quotes Lowell describing plath as “machinelike,” “like a racehorse,” crying out for “starting pistols, snapping tapes, and new world records broken,” which Mathis finds a poor fit for the poems, which he sees as the “death-rattle of a very confused and barely conscious mental patient.” He concludes that Lowell’s foreword admits the goal of the project is “selling the rest of us the Phoenician wasteland.” He dismisses plath, Hughes, and Lowell as bad poets and despicable people leading others to destruction.
He returns to The Bell Jar, discussing the event with Jose la Vias, a Peruvian man. Mathis doubts plath’s account and suggests she was a “slut or a VERY stupid girl,” having a serious boyfriend, Gordon Lameyer (Jewish), and being “unofficially engaged” while accepting a diamond tie pin from la Vias for “some service.” He interprets plath’s description of women-haters as gods as a tip-off to the event being fictional, a “committee project” by “nasty feminists.”
Mathis mentions Tongues of Stone, an “autobiographical” story plath wrote for a Mademoiselle fiction contest, questioning its veracity. He criticizes plath’s mother and doctors for her shock treatment and suicide attempts, suggesting they could have been charged with attempted murder. He names Dr. Kenneth Tillotson, who prescribed sleeping pills and volunteer work, which took place at Newton-Wellesley Hospital with plath working as a nurse, described as working with Downs Syndrome patients and the elderly. This, Mathis argues, was a “guaranteed-to-fail plan.” He notes plath blamed her mother for the idea. Tillotson then prescribed shock treatment. Peter Aldrich, a friend, observed plath seemed “uncharacteristically lifeless” after a treatment, but Mathis questions why only he noticed. Shock treatment continued after her suicide attempt.
A second doctor, psychiatrist and priest Ruth Beuscher, nee Barnhouse, became involved at McLean. Her father was also a Grey. Mathis calls her a “nutcase” and believes she should have been prosecuted along with Aurelia and Tillotson.
The treatment was paid for by Olive Higgins Prouty, whom Mathis links to L. Fletcher Prouty, Chief of Special Operations for the Joint Chiefs under Kennedy, a “major spook.” He suggests Olive Prouty’s story has similarities to her book and the movie Now, Voyager (1942), starring Bette Davis and Claude Rains. He theorizes a “spook committee” used this novel and movie as a template for plath’s story, flipping characters and changing the ending to a tragedy. He notes parallels: a mother having a child late in life (flipped to an old and mean father), a mousy protagonist like Charlotte (Bette Davis) on the edge of a breakdown, and a psychiatrist selling psychiatry. He observes that psychiatrists dodge blame in the film, and the plath story romanticizes the “crazy girl/artist/poet pose.”
He mentions a scene in Now, Voyager with Bette Davis and a handsome young man, a navy officer named Trotter. He connects Trotter to Brad Pitt. The film also promotes cigarettes as a sign of independence and sexuality, with Paul Henreid (Victor Laszlo from Casablanca) lighting two cigarettes. Mathis links this to Ayn Rand promoting smoking. He concludes that the tobacco industry, Hollywood, media, government, doctors, and society promote unhealthy habits because they are run by “Phoenicians” who “want you sick or dead,” citing the “Covid genocide” as another example.
Mathis ponders if plath faked her death. He finds indications, suggesting the story was an early “Men-are-Pigs” project to “blackwash Otto Plath and through him all men,” and split the sexes. He believes plath was “largely manufactured,” either a genuine suicidal woman used for the project or a “Phoenician actress” who retired. He feels “slimed” by these people and cannot continue the analysis at this time. He suggests that either way, the project is bad for the Phoenicians and Modernism. If it’s a fraud, it proves his point; if genuine, it proves these people are “miserable bastards” with nothing to teach. He states they are neither interesting, provocative, compelling, artistic, nor heroic.
He briefly mentions a quote about Richard Sassoon coming from a rich family of “Iraqi Jews, Rothschild league rich,” educated in France, and speaking fluent French.