LETTERS: 5 ALS to David Loughee; 1 ALS to Gabriel Pustel.
1] “Already I am feeling nostalgic for the Shrimp, the Rye, the White Horse, the seductive stores,
the dazzling lights, and all things bright and beautiful.”
Autograph letter signed, “Caitlin” to David Lougée (“Boy David”), Boathouse, Laugharne, March 7,
1952; three leaves of lined binder paper; 8 ½ x 11 inches; rectos only; creased where folded for mailing;
with original envelope.
Writing after a visit to the U.S., Thomas describes her and Dylan’s hung-over state upon leaving New
York; the gloomy atmosphere of their home and slowness of their life in Wales; the unwelcome
responsibilities of motherhood; the challenges of making a living; and her effort to pull Dylan away from
“acting” (as she considered poetry reading).
She begins, “It was very sad leaving you on the boat that cataclysmic day but I was so solidified with
hangover, and flummoxed with New York extremes and excesses, that I was incapable of saying one
word. The same goes for the Maestro, who was, I believe, even more speechless, and dead asleep on his
feet.” She explains her “wobbling writing” (at times nearly illegible) by saying she is laying flat
‘on the folds of my flopping belly’ […] in our very own, long forsaken, enchanted harbour, with the
temperamental Welsh sun coming and going behind the clouds. And the incoming tide surging past the
harbour door, to refill Dylan’s […] estuary. When it is fine it is heaven here, but when it rains, which it
does most of the time, there is only one thing to do : make a neat incision from ear to ear with a very
sharp razor. And that is not always practicable, hence the gloom.
Thomas complains that she is now “driven distracted with the wailing of children, and the abysses of
domesticity,” which sit in stark contrast to her trip abroad, and complains of “the austerity and drabness
of this old broken down cab house…” She changes the subject by telling Lougée it “was a real pleasure”
to have his “very charming company” and support against “the hoards, who make a farce of the sacred
name of ‘Woman,’ and put me off [from?] returning to your Godforsaken continent.” She goes on,
I can’t help visualizing you here, how taken aback you’d be by the primitive [?] , the complete lack of the
dreaded word ‘Culture.’ (the gushing emphasis shocked me so much over there) and the long stretches of
slowness, dullness, monotony, rain, always rain, mud, slush, privation. It would be a painfully sharp
contrast for you, and I wonder how you’d weather it.
She writes that it would be lovely to see him and asks for the address of a mutual friend, Stanley, before
continuing,
[Dylan and I] hope to bury ourselves for the next three months from all human contacts, and not even
think about the awful business of money, and making a living. Obviously quite insoluble in our case, as
Poetry and money are the bitterest enemies, and teaching, particularly […] a mental death. What else is
there? I am making a last fight for writing, in whatever form, as against acting, and the pernicious star
system, which undermines the resistance and veracity of the most upright (i.e. T.S. Elliot [sic])
protagonists. And, let use face it, Dylan is not the most upright, or strong.
Already I am feeling nostalgic for the Shrimp, the Rye, the White Horse, the seductive stores, the
dazzling lights, and all things bright and beautiful.
2] “I am being a stinking frivolous coward and won’t think about Dylan in the earth. I will not, it is
impossible. That’s why I am in this trouble now, and if he is I want to go there too, but they won’t let
me.”
Autograph letter signed, “Caitlin” to Lougée (“Dearest only David”), Holloway Sanitorium, Virginia
Waters, Surrey, December 6, 1953; four leaves; 8 x 10 inches; rectos only, save for postscript to verso of
final page; creased where folded for mailing; with original envelope.
Writing from the Holloway Sanitorium after Dylan’s death, she expresses her grief and misery, and plans
to not so much retur
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