Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), by Cohen SG, Rizzo PL

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Historical Notes

Asthma Among the FamousA Continuing Series

Sheldon G. Cohen, M.D.* and Philip L. Rizzo, Ph.D.t

DYLAN THOMAS (1914-1953)WELSH POET AND AUTHOR

*Scientific Advisor, National Institute of Allergy and InfectiousDiseases (NIAID)Scholar, National Library of Medicine (NLM)National Institutes of Health (NIH) Bethesda, MarylandfEmeritus Professor of English, Wilkes University, Wilkes-Barre,PennsylvaniaAn invited collaborative contribution from PL Rizzo

Allergy and Asthma Proc. 185



DYLAN THOMAS (1914-1953)WELSH POET AND AUTHOR

"Cough! cough! cough! My death is marching on... A misanthropic doctor has given me four yearsto live. I don't believe it ... You should hear me cough,though. ,,\

In February of 1936, while in search of a pub with afriend, Dylan coughed, spat, regarded the spittle, andsaid to his companion, "Blood, boy! That's the stuff!,,2

Dylan Marlais Thomas was born in 1914 in Swansea,Wales. He was the only son and one of two children

of a grammar schoolmaster; his sister was eight years older.From his mother, who was the daughter of a Welsh

farmer, Dylan early on learned chapel-going and an indis-tinct but pervasive sense of the presence of God (called"totally unformulated" by one biographer).3 He also inher-ited her gaiety, sweetness, and generosity. Although Dylanmay have found her untutored spirit and conventional viewsexasperating, he did deeply care for her in her old age.Always referring to herself as "Dylan's mam" in her lettersand in many respects childish, she gave her son "measure-less and uncriticallove.,,4

Dylan's daughter called attention to the influence of hergrandmother on her son and that it had been underestimated.Her perception was more telling and accurate about Dylanthan she fairly was credited with. She "was no fool andmuch more intelligent than people thought.,,4

Nevertheless, the consensus of biographers is that Dylaninherited his intellect and literary talents from his father. Dy-lan's earliest education was hit-and-miss, more misses alongthe way than hits: except for mastering language. His motherused to read to him when he was ill in bed but she ordinarilycouldn't spare much time to do so. It was his father who readto him in earnest, from babyhood on, essentially Shakespeare.When his mother would protest that Dylan was only four yearsold, his father persisted, saying the boy would understand.Thus he was brought up-nearly exclusively-on the Bard.s

The effect on the boy in his sickbed and before sleep wasprofound and lasting.

The little boy who looks out from [Dylan's] first pic-ture-when he was about four-is already and unmistak-ably Dylan, although the curly brown hair was still golden-yellow in those days. The weak chin, though, the loosemouth, and above all the questing, haunting, slightly hoodedeyes, with their hint of timidity mingled with wonderment,were to change little in the years to come. Only his nose, hisShand yean nose as he used to call it, did not then exist, forit was broken a year or so after this photograph was taken.s

From early on, to the neglect of all his other studies,Dylan in his own words "bulldozed through print, toreopen the babbling dead [De Quincey, Blake, Marlowe,Poe, the brothers Grimm, and especially Keats, Shelley,and Byron]6like a tank with a memory. On the very green

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fields of my youth I stomped pun-shod and neigh-nonniedin a nosebag of adjectives. I had to imitate I had to tryto learn what made words tick, beat, blaze ,,7

Of Dylan's time at Grammar School, between 1925 and1931, a friend judged that Dylan "was very clever butintellectually almost incredibly lazy.,,7 Dylan, troubled byasthma, was also one of the youngest, smallest, and weakestamong 400 boys, learning how to ingratiate himself, or fightback if necessary. At 12, he was described by a physician as"slight ... with large soft eyes and full lips; he lookedalmost effeminate, but he was tough."s Dylan in this periodhad no wish to be the sickly boy his parents and hisappearance told him he was.

Besides fighting, and mostly losing, there were othercoping devices, which he learned very early. He couldaccommodate to the moment. He could be as others desiredhim to be-like the conquered Celt-who in the processearned a reputation for lying, by giving complicit answers tohis conquerors. Through another approach, he could deviseon demand multiple facades and stratagems, a techniquethat came to be known as "instant Dylan." The stories thathave accumulated in his short lifetime seem to be about notone, but six or eight Dylan personalities.s

Dylan Thomas (1914-1953). Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

May-June 2000, Vol. 21, NO.3



Subterfuges of smoking behind the bushes and drinkingalcohol whenever he could do so joined his teen habits ofwriting poems-half of them comic-for the school mag-azine. In 1931, at age 16, Dylan, affected by health prob-lems, left Swansea Grammar School. All formal educationthen ended.9

The more Dylan thought of himself as a poet, the lessattention he paid to school work. In the Central WelshBoard Examination, his results were disastrous; he floun-dered in every subject except the English language. Hismother ascribed his troubles at 15 to poor health, a "ratherbad [chest] hemorrhage." At 16, in 1931, he had to be sentto a farm to recover after a breakdown in health. 10Accord-ing to his wife Caitlin, recuperation in a rural setting wasalso for a "hemorrhage." I1

John Keats,6 with his brief life of 26 years, and ArthurRimbaud,12 with his somewhat longer turbulent 37 years,would serve Dylan as his models of the proper poetic type,desperate and dying early. On more than one occasion hecalled himself "the Rimbaud of Cwmdonkin Drive" (Laugh-arne). 13Rimbaud came from a poor background, debauchedhimself, 14and produced all his vivid symbolist poetic out-put by the time he was 20 (The Drunken Boat, 1871; ASeason in Hell, 1873).

The tuberculosis that afflicted Keats mayor may not havebeen part of Dylan's bronchial woes, but those woes nev-ertheless underlay and compelled his expression which,from the very outset, embedded a distinctive signature ofdeath. Once, stopping at a chemist's shop, he kept repeating:"I've got death in me.,,14

In a 1931 poem, Dylan wrote when he was 17:

Feeding the worm Who do / blame? ... Mother / blame... Who gave me life and then the grave, Here is herlabour's end, Dead limb and mind, All love and sweatGone now to rot. 15

And in a 1933 poem:

/n the Beginning ... was the word ... The word flowedup, translating to the heart First characters of birth anddeath. 16

In another piece, the same year, That Sanity Be Kept (alsotitled Twelve):

My house would fall like bread about my homage; And/ would choke the heavens with my hymn, That menmight see the devil in the crumb And the death in astarving image. 17

Also, in one of his early poems, published before Dylanwas 19, by the New English Weekly in May of 1933:

And death shall have no dominion. Dead men nakedthey shall be one With the man in the wind and the west

Allergy and Asthma Proc.

moon; When their bones are picked clean and the cleanbones gone, They shall have stars at elbow andfoot ...Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;Though lovers be lost love shall not . .. Twisting onracks when sinews give way, Strapped to a wheel, yetthey shall not break ... 18

A long-time friend-who would be at his bed-side justbefore he died-asserted that Dylan "had always seen him-self in the role of the tubercular poet ... As Caitlin wrote,'Dylan and dying, Dylan and dying, they don't go together;or is it that they were bound to go together; he said so oftenenough, but 1did not heed him.',,'9

Dylan's mother characterized him-and his sister Nan-cy-as "chesty," given to ailments afflicting weak chests, afamily trait. Also, he may possibly have had a liver disor-der,20 a pathophysiologic reason to explain his never havinghad a high tolerance for alcohol. More than one biographerhas advised caution concerning judgment about his imbib-ing to drunken excess. Swansea "drinking buddies" of Dy-lan's youth said Dylan's eyes, after a couple of pints of beer,would glaze over, and he'd "be sliding under the table."Dylan "liked to pretend" he had the capacity for heavydrinking, but he did no1.21 A fellow poet, David Lougee,maintained that Dylan "wasn't used to whiskey. Actually,he preferred beer. But he wasn't a drunk.'>22 Later, when inAmerica, before Dylan faced his first American audience, itwas reported that he asked for a beer, which was brought."Before going on stage, Dylan was overtaken by a coughingattack so violent I had to hold him to enable him to keep hisfeet ... While I tried to help ... he retched into a basin asif he would never stop.'>23

Additionally citing the sometimes curious drinking modeof Dylan:

/ became aware of a fact for which / still cannotaccount: the fact that, without liquor at all, or with aglass or two of beer, he would often move into a stateof euphoria precisely like that state of uninhibited gai-ety common to people who depend upon liquor. His talkwas ... wild, fanciful, funny and drunken, and yet hehad had nothing to drink but two small glasses ofbeer. 24

Examining a number of sources, one biographer haswritten: "Dylan would sit in a pub with a friend and makea glass or two of beer last for hours. This was true to the endof his life, and is one reason it is difficult to tell if he wasa dependent alcoholic. Hard-drinking was part of an imagehe wished to projec1.,,25

Dylan also may have suffered from a sugar metabolicdeficiency; he had a craving for sweets. Other symptoms,from childhood on, are consistent with asthma that hismother believed certainly he had. She fussed about hishealth and that of his sister Nancy, with TB her bugbear; heranxieties over them were constant, about "wheezy chests,

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pale cheeks, and flushed brows." Fact is, Nancy was deadbefore she was 50, and Dylan before 40. "The fussingmother have had something to fuss about.,,26

Dylan wheezed and coughed, complained of pain, andsmoked at least 40 cigarettes daily?7 He had a bronchiticillness in his midteens, which necessitated a period of con-valescence. Weak lungs or not, however, Dylan won theschool 220-yard dash at the age of 12. His photo appearedin the local paper; he carried it ... for the rest of his life ...it was found in his pocket when he died in New York.27 Itwas noted that Dylan, after musing over this "grimy scrap ofa photograph" of a thin serious little boy, "very carefullyfolded ... and inserted it into his wallet.,,28

But by teenage he had already turned into a sickly intro-spective youngster, avoiding the more muscular games ...and inclined to the affectations of Wilde or Beardsley,29wearing colorful shorts and floppy scarves. Self-consciousabout height, standing only 5'2" or 5'3", according to hiswife Caitlin, he wore the thickest heels he could find.3o

With weak lungs, Dylan as a little boy may have hadcomplicating tuberculosis in addition to asthma, as his par-ents and he himself may have believed. The disease was,"after all ... common .. , even endemic in many urbanareas. This was a time when x-ray facilities were not readilyavailable, and antibiotics [for its treatment] had yet to bediscovered. In Dylan's case, with his [vulnerability] tobronchitis and his habitual asthma," he could have beendiagnosed in error. Such a medical error would be compre-hensible. "Even so, it is incredible that any doctor wouldhave told Dylan in 1933 that this disease would kill him infour years. ,,31

Another biographer doubts the four-year warning by aphysician. However, although Dylan was not as "broken" ashe'd suggested, and perhaps not tubercular, after all-asindicated in postmortem examination findings- he cer-tainly suffered from a tendency to be "weak-chested" andasthmatic. His respiratory problem was further aggravatedby a large intake of cigarette smoke from the age of II. "Agargantuan 'smoker's cough' was one of his trademarks.Dylan's mother told a friend in 1954, 'Dylan used to getasthma very badly as a little boy. If one of his masters spokesharply to him at the Grammar School he'd come homegasping ... ,32 Towards the end of his life he suffered frombreathlessness.,,33 A physician's look backward (in 1997)suggested, "In Dylan's case breathlessness was easily ex-plained by his history of asthma and bronchitis aggravatedby incessant smoking .... ,,34

Dylan made a virtue of the feeling of frailty. Perhaps tobe smaIl (or a mouse or a pig) was to be safe and baby-likeagain. In a 1933 letter, he wrote "I'm an odd little person ...smoking too many cigarettes, with a crocked lung ... little,with no health at all ... I look about fourteen." "I have alarge round nose and broke it ... lonely little person ...little Welsh ear little feet ... little poet.,,35

In foIlow-up correspondence the foIlowing year, Dylantold of his father's spending three months undergoing treat-

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ment for cancer of the throat, and had a "time limit evenshorter than mine (!)... ,,35 Dylan's father died in 1952 (atage 76) and Dylan (just turned 39) expired within a year, in1953. Dylan's sister Nancy would die at age 47 of livercancer in 1953, in Bombay?6

In correspondence of this period, 1933-1934, Dylan liedabout seeing a doctor, which had been urged. He avoideddoctors if he could, either to consult with them in Swanseaor elsewhere about his health, or as a poet to read to themor otherwise address them from the lectern. In his view,doctors were to be gone around, if not shunned.37 AlthoughDylan made no secret of his chronic lung woes and it wouldbe hard to document, he may have considered those diffi-culties a private matter and not to be interfered with. After1933, he did not seek professional medical help except inthe aftermath of bone-breaking; his mother said he had"chicken-bones.,,38

Dylan at 19 had "shared the cruel struwwelpeter myththen current" that masturbating drove boys mad. With noreason to disbelieve it, he once years later told his closefriend39 John Davenport that he had engaged in that practiceall his life and to excess. His first sexual relation occurredat 15. He said he had contracted gonorrhea as a teenager,that it took a month to get over, and that it had to beconcealed from his family.4o

Meantime, other single poems appeared here and there: in1933, The Force That Through the Green Fuse Drives theFlower; in the following spring, Light Breaks Where No SunShines. Then his first volume, Eighteen Poems (1934) waspublished jointly by the Sunday Referee and the PartonPress, including the above two, and among others showingvigor and talent, I See the Boys of Summer. The volumesteamed with sexual energy, with the by now usual death-images co-mingled: the "rainy hammer of his father's penisagainst the womb"; the boy who masturbates "rehearsingheat upon a raw-edged nerve"; "We summer boys ... let ussummon death from a summer woman, a muscling life fromlovers in their cramp.,,41

In 1936, Twenty-Five Poems was published, which in-cluded the very early And Death Shall Have No Dominion,Altar- Wise by Owl-Light, and Today, This Insect. From animportant review: "No other poet ... shows so great apromise, and even so great an achievement.,,42 Still, despitethis favorable endorsement, the total number of copies wasthen 1500. Dylan was finding a wider public, but it was atiny one by commercial trade standards; no money was to bemade. Though reprinted three times, "from start to finish [to1950] the book earned just fifty-eight pounds.,,43 It wouldbe hard times ahead, for a poet determined to be one.

No respite from his usual bronchial problems, either. In1936, with Caitlin MacNamara, a spirited Irish young wom-an-soon to become his wife, in 1937-while hospitalized, hewrote, "I've been indoors all ... week, with a wicked cold,coughing and snivelling, too full of phlegm and aspirin towrite to a girl in hospital ... even the ink would carrysadness and influenza ... ,,44




Other occasions during this period, with dates not exact,report numerous other bouts of flu and bronchitis. Early in1937, in a letter to Caitlin from London, he wrote, "I'vebeen in a nursing home with bronchitis and laryngitis orsomething, no voice at all, no will, all weakness and croak-ing and spitting ... ,,44

When Caitlin and Dylan finally went to bed, she foundhim eager but unskilled. He was "shy and careful not to lether see him naked, though she noticed his clothes werestinking" ... he had no knowledge of foreplay ... he was a[sexual] incompetent. Yet for years after he boasted of this"conquest." Dylan was not a man of his own dreams; Caitlinconfirmed that he was hopeless in bed and that she "did notdiscover until after his death that it was possible for womento have a sexual climax.,,45 Her own direct statement cameat the outset of interviews that developed into Caitlin: LifeWith Dylan Thomas: "I never had an orgasm in all my yearswith Dylan, and that lies at the heart of our problems ... ,,46

No paternity suits-ever-for Dylan, and no tales told bywomen of his prowess between the sheets. In one instance,troublesome for their marriage, Caitlin took a night off for atryst in a hotel with William Glock, a local music critic andclassical pianist, "tall, blond, and handsome; a fine-featuredman who was altogether far more imposing than her tiny, fat,and far-from-fastidious husband.,,47 As it developed, however,having believed herself to have fallen in love with Glock,Caitlin-all perfumed and romantic-came to a rude awaken-ing with Glock, who turned out in bed to be a dud of duds, withabsolutely nothing happening.48

As for other such heady and unconsummated desires,there was that of a Margaret Taylor (always very generousin financial aid to Dylan, with or without the consent of herhusband Alan who, not long after, divorced her). Margaret'sobsession with Dylan included a note saying to him, "tosleep with you would be like sleeping with a god." Appar-ently she never did.49 Caitlin herself testified that in bedwith Dylan (and no god in the vicinity) "it was like em-bracing a child rather than a man ... he wasn't aggressivein a masculine way; he wasn't strong enough ... he had analmost juvenile approach to sex ... strange that a grownman should have wanted baby comforts ... ,,50

The sexual component would get its strong and strikingexpression in poem after poem, however, and also in thelater dramatic revelatory sketches of Under Milk WOOd.51

The actor Richard Burton,52 speaking of that drama, said hehad "spoken the words over a thousand times waking andsleeping, and that to him the whole play was about religion,sex and death.,,53 Dylan's version of Ulysses (by JamesJoyce),54 Under Milk Wood is the "rendering of a life of asmall Welsh town by the sea from the middle of one nightto the middle of the next, by voices, and using two com-mentators. The happenings in one spring day in Llaregybare recounted, by a kind of 'dramatized gossip' .,,55

Dylan had several published volumes to his credit andhad become increasingly popular. However, his work


earned an income of too few pounds. Besides Caitlin, therewere three children, two sons and a daughter, to support.

With the advent of World War II, Dylan in May 1940 setoff from Laugharne to L1andilo to volunteer for service inthe British military forces, but rejected, he returned indepression. The examining doctors finding "weak lungs"placed him in C-3 classification. The outcome upset him.

Although the reason he was declared C-3 was almostcertainly asthma and his "bronchial condition," Dylan mayhave construed it as "tuberculosis.,,56 His mother explainedthat he was unfit because of "punctured lungs." A fellowWelsh writer and friend said it was "scarred !ungs.,,57

Thus rejected for military service, Dylan Thomas-withseveral published volumes by then which, though increas-ingly popular, earned him few pounds-found another av-enue for creative endeavor. Success came first as a per-former in British Broadcasting Company (BBC) radiodramas, next reading the work of other authors, then gen-erating ideas for BBC programs, and finally launching him-self into what would become a second, more immediatelyremunerative, career as a sonorous resonant voice. Hispresentations were especially welcome and appreciated inBritain's trying times. Through arranged lecture tours, hewould become increasingly familiar to growing audiences.Eventually his escalating career offerings would create im-mense enthusiasm in America for presentations of his ownmaterials and outstanding excerpts from the works of others.

One of his favorite authors to read from was DjunaBarnes, particularly her novel Nightwood.58 In a 1939 letterreferring to Henry Miller's59 Tropic of Cancer, Dylan said,"The only recent prose I've had as much pleasure out of,loud, meaty pleasure, has been another American book,Nightwood (far different, with original writing too). I re-member you said, in Laugharne, that you hadn't read it:would you like to?,,60 Caitlin, in relating to authors Dylanused in his American tours, also speaks of his raving aboutNightwood, arguing that it was the finest work of literatureever written by a woman.61

Dylan was brought to America for tours by John MalcolmBrinnin. Beginning in 1950 in New York as reader/per-former, he would become an early "rock star" type. In facthe constituted "a first" in what was to evolve into a tremen-dously profitable and popular field.62 One biographer hasprovided an appendix list of over 150 Dylan broadcasts ofreadings from 1940 to 1953.63

Still, old problems persisted. In 1944, William Saroyan,64with two other writers, met him on a dreary day in February.According to his observation, Dylan "seemed to be swollenby sleeplessness, nervousness, boredom, bad eating, andgeneral poor health." Dylan also seemed "to need a bath anda change of clothing.,,65

In 1947, Dylan wrote to his American sponsor, JohnBrinnin, that he'd been ill with influenza "so perfectlybloody that I just groaned at all my obligations and put myhead under the blankets.,,66

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In the last four years of his life ... Dylan's body hadthickened ... he remained as "chesty" as in childhood,smoking constantly and coughing at great lengths. Hisfamily doctor said he rarely ever saw Dylan. 67

In the winter of 1949-1950, before flying to America, ina letter to Margaret Taylor he wrote that he "fell down againand cracked some ribs ... also I have gout in my toe,phlegm in my lungs, misery in my head.,,68 To submit tobone x rays was acceptable, but not much more. Beyond thefractured ribs, Dylan-when an old friend saw him againafter many years-had teeth that were not good, "which hetried to conceal in smiling, his nose had become enormous,his face bloated and pale.,,68

Igor Stravinsky, who after the war wished Dylan tocollaborate with him on an opera, confided in an interview."As soon as I saw him ... the only thing to do was to lovehim ... he was a shorter man than I expected ... with alarge protuberant behind and belly. His nose was a red bulband his eyes were glazed ... ,,69

In time Dylan did manage to have some interaction withdoctors, to obtain some medications: for instance, a jar ofinsomnia tablets; he took them for his hangovers. On thefirst American tour, in March 1950, contemporary poetDavid Daiches was alarmed at Dylan's behavior, seeing himpass a fountain, cram pills into his mouth, and swallow thembecause "Dylan was feeling queasy" prior to a scheduledpoetry reading at Bryn Mawr College.7o Brinnin himselfreports that on the way to that Bryn Mawr site outsidePhiladelphia, the trip was "punctuated by several badcoughing spells." The next day, arriving in Washington,D.C., he was ill and downcast in the morning as he coughedand flushed his way through breakfast ... ,,71On that tour itwas reported that, while in Iowa, he coughed and retchedevery morning.70 In a sum-up, one biographer has pointedout that no one knows what other drugs Dylan was takingfor his difficulties apart from benzedrine, although he hadstarted to boast about his drug-taking. Caitlin-although shesaid at the end, in New York "there was a lot of talk aboutdrugs"-did not pursue the matter of what drugs he mayhave tried or used, since by then he was already dead.72

Back at the Boat House in Laugharne, in early October of1951, Dylan wrote, "I have gout, a strained back, bronchitis,[coughing] fits, and a sense of disaster, otherwise very ill."In a later letter he adds, "Day after day I grow lazier andfatter and sadder and older and deafer and duller ... I falldownstairs; I frighten myself in the night, my own plumpbanshee ... and next week I shall be thirty-seven horrors0Id.,,73

Caitlin claimed his father-like his mother, certainly nofool either in this respect, in observations of their son-"used to say that Dylan would never make it to forty. Hisfather was right. I heard Dylan say that, too ., .,,74 Sheperceived his coughing fits, and trying to cough up blood, asefforts to convince her he "had something serious.,,75 Cait-lin viewed much of Dylan's behavior-his claims of iII-

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health-as hypochondria, "mainly attempts to get sympa-thy, what he was always after.,,74 It may have suited her tobelieve so, but she sometimes in her accounts both believedand disbelieved alternately, perhaps needing to think, as sheoften said, that he was very strong, only done in by the threevices of drink, cigarettes, and women, with her maintaining"he was very tough." Caitlin continued:

Every morning he would cough violently: he had al-ways done that over the years but the coughing gotworse with all the drink and the cigarettes. Laugharnemay have been the wrong place for someone with hiscough: it's so damp there in autumn and winter, espe-cially living where we were, right over the estuary.Dylan hardly ever went to see a doctor; he didn't likethem. [The family doctor, Dr. Hughes ... when Dylanhad broken a bone, one of his arms ... would come anddo what had to be done ... setting Dylan's arm] ... but

Dylan would never go to a doctor if he could possiblyavoid it, probably because he was terrified of being toldto cut down on his smoking and drinking. He did sufferfrom gout. I don't know how bad it was, but he cou1dn'tbear anyone knocking against his leg, and of course thechildren sometimes did. 76

On Dylan's second American tour, with Caitlin along,Brinnin reports Dylan stopped on the sidewalk to "coughhimself out of a paroxysm once or twice.,,77 In the monthsfollowing his return from America in June 1952, Dylan wasfrequently ill. In that one month, exhausted, he sufferedwhat he called "sunstroke," followed by what he called"pleurisy." He went home to Laugharne. In October, hewrote: "I've had pneumonia, and worse." In November, "inbed with bronchitis." And in February, "down with flu."And his gouty toe had gotten worse.78 During August 1953,Brinnin visited Dylan and Caitlin in the Boat House, report-ing "Dylan asked me how I could possibly bear the contrastbetween life on the Riviera and life with him in the gloomof God-forsaken Laugharne.,,79

For all that, Laugharne-and Caitlin and family-repre-sented Dylan's beloved roots. His best work, including themuch revised Under Milk Wood, a radio play commissionedby the BBC, reflected those origins, the Swansea place, andits inimitable people, however poor. "Dylan loved Walesand sang its countryside more clearly than any other bard orminstrel had done.,,8o Dylan's were longing recollections ofhis boy's time on the farm at Fern Hill or being invited toAunt Dosie's manse at Newton ... and at L1angain, wherethe remote farm stood under Fern Hill, Dylan was really"young and easy under the apple boughs about the liltinghouse and happy as the grass was green ... "

Like Cwmdonkin Park, the farmhouse was surroundedby tall old trees, the survivors of ,hat Milk Wood whichonce used to cover nearly all of ancient Wales. Al-though the house smelt of rotten wood and damp and




animals, the kitchen was lamp-lit and warm, and AuntAnnie loved Dylan ... 81

When Dylan, in the fretful period of 1940-1943, wasobliged to sell something-any thing-to scramble for hisdebts, he sold his exercise-books, containing the early po-ems together with a prose book and some worksheets, to theState University of New York at Buffalo for 41 pounds.This was at about the same age as Keats at his death, 26:

Certainly Dylan must have been aware of a break. Hefelt himself being separated from his past, whether itwas long Sundays with strawberry jelly at the Tricks' orSwansea before the fires. Nostalgia came easily all hislife; at seventeen he was already contemplating hisvanished past, remarking (in a poem in one of theexercise-books now up for sale) on "how much washappy while it lasted"; he had the Welsh weakness forbackward glances. 82

Still, in this period, for a variety of depressing reasons,only three new (minor) poems came into being, as he spenttime scribbling, struggling, and collaborating on filmscripts. In London, their house was a broken-down studio inChelsea, "one large room with a kitchen behind a curtain,with a leaking roof, hearing mice and rain and air-raidsirens.,,83 Caitlin said it was their London base for yearsafter.84

Financial scrape: In 1939, Dylan made a plea for employ-ment to Edward Marsh, secretary to the British statesmanWinston Churchill, who in the following year would moveup to his wartime tenure of leadership as prime minister."I've been a journalist and an actor in a repertory theatre; Ihave broadcast, and lectured. I am twenty-five years old" (inresponse Marsh sent Dylan perhaps 10 or 20 pounds).85

Also in that month a plea to Bert Trick, a fellow poet andradical: "Help; we're living in my father's house; he's avery poor man; we're almost an intolerable burden on him... I'm writing only poems now, those extremely slowly,and can expect very little money for them.,,86

In an ineffectual scheme proposed to friend John Daven-port in May of 1939, Dylan promoted regular receipt of fiveshillings each from a group of acquaintances (includingDavenport and Peggy Guggenheim, and Richard Hughes,among others). "Of course they won't all agree. I want morepossibilities for this Trifling Subscription."87

Again, to Davenport, from Glamorgan, in January of1941, "We're waiting for little sums to carry us over ...Today the pipes burst, and Caitlin, in a man's hat, has beenrunning all day with a mop from w.c. to flooded parlor,while I've been sitting down trying to write a poem about aman who fished with a woman for bait and caught a horriblecollection" (eventually Ballad of the Long-Legged Bait,"220 lines).88

Friends and family, did help; John Davenport provided ahaven for the young family; Margaret Taylor bought one


place for Dylan and his family, then another in Laugharne-the Boat House-in 1948. The Thomases' fortunes wouldimprove somewhat, and the poetry drought was finallybroken in 1944 with Poem in October ("it was my thirtiethyear to heaven") followed by others like Fern Hill, Over SirJohn's Hill, and A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, ofa Child in London. ,,89

It would take the lecture tours in America, however, toprovide real financial opportunity. Irony of ironies: on theday before Dylan's collapse in New York in the fall of1953-on his fourth American lecture tour-he had signeda contract with a lecture agent that would have guaranteedhim $1000 a week.9o

His popularity by then had increased exponentially.

[Dylan had] found and kept an audience that does notusually read poetry, buy books of short stories, or"quality" papers. He was a people's poet who caughtthe ear of the people through radio in that brief post-war period when wireless was the main form of familyentertainment. Men and women of all ages somehowidentify with him as they do not identify with the Eliotsand Audens. They talk of his voice. And it is impressiveto observe their emotional reactions to this humble,shy, confused, fearful and in many ways objectionableman who was great fun in a smoky pub on a winter'snight but neglectful of his family and a poor lover; aselfish man who believed himself touched by angels,one of the chosen ones.91

The critical consensus seems to be that-mostly-all thisderives from a rather small oeuvre of actual work, not much,perhaps two dozen poems (including all those cited in thisessay), a few short stories from Portrait of the Artist as aYoung Dog (1940), and Under Milk Wood.

The poet John Betjeman once asserted, "Dylan is not onlythe best living Welsh poet, but is a great poet. He issometimes difficult but always rewarding, rich, and arrest-ing."92

David Daiches adds In the white giant's thigh and Incountry sleep to the group of "really first-rate poems." At"his best he is magnificent, as well as original in tone andtechnique."93 Not to be left out, from the same 1952 Col-lected Poems, is Do not go gentle into that good night.

John Ackerman maintains, "The distinctive characteris-tics of his work are its lyrical quality, its strict formalcontrol, a romantic conception of the poet's function, and areligious attitude toward experience." The Welsh influenceon Dylan was strong, though he "knew no Welsh." VernonWatkins, fellow Welsh poet, added "When [Dylan] said hewas a Puritan he was not believed; but it really was true."

Elder Olson took the time and trouble to uncomplicateDylan's going beyond metaphor and simile-though Dylanexploited the basic powers in those- by exploring the sym-bols in his poems, because symbols have greater range andpower. "His imagination is a strange one, an odd one ... we

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should see flowers on a grave; he sees 'the dead whoperiscope through flowers to the sky' ... we should seegeese high in the air; he sees 'geese nearly in heaven.",95

John Bayley points out Dylan's relations to the surrealistArthur Rimbaud and the metaphysical Gerard Manley Hop-kins in the use of single words as symbols, with a "naturalmomentum of syntax": the chitterlings of a clock ... thepuffed birds hopping and hunting ... socket and grave, thebrassy blood. 96

And beyond those word-symbol occurrences, Dylan'sword choices-as Bayley demonstrates-often exemplifysynaesthesia, the merging of senses, transformations inwhich the senses are compressed and interchanged-matterof the air, a voice itching, thoughts smell in the rain.97 (Sucheffects can be illuminating. To those of us without breathingproblems, air is never a conscious presence. For an asth-matic, however, air is palpable, a thing, matter, often need-ing a strenuous reaching for.)

Dylan Thomas' last days were extremely difficult-be-ginning October 24, 1953 through his 39th birthday threedays later and after-with some remaining controversyabout the real cause(s) for his death. During a rehearsal ofUnder Milk Wood, Dylan was "restless, sometimes too hotand then freezing; all the symptoms of a chill. Later hebecame nauseated and had to vomit, retching so violently helost his balance and fell to the floor." He said, "I'm too tiredto do anything ... I'm too sick too much of the time." In themorning, on being asked "Sick this way, how long?" hereplied, "Never this sick ... I've come to the melancholyconclusion that my health is totally gone. I can't drink at all.I always could before ... but now most of the time I can'teven swallow beer without being sick ... ,,98

Liz Reitel, a Brinnin associate, and the man (Herb Han-num) who would become her husband, took Dylan to see aDr. Milton Feltenstein, whom Dylan nicknamed "the manwith the winking needle" because of his inclination to useinjections. He gave Dylan "a shot of cortisone, which wasthen a relatively new drug with unknown side effects."Brinnin remarks on his own reaction of shock on observingDylan shortly after at rehearsal. "His face was lime-white,his lips loose and twisted, his eyes dulled, gelid, and sunk inhis head. He showed the countenance of a man who hadbeen appalled by something beyond comprehension." Dylanseemed to recover afterward ("by then the cortisone wouldhave worn off,,).98

Partying: he ate little (other than the candies TootsieRolls and Milky Ways).99 On November 3rd, on awaking,he told Liz Reitel, "I want to go to the Garden of Eden ...to die, to be forever unconscious ... I adore my little boy[Llewellyn] ... I can't bear the thought of not seeing himagain. Poor little bugger, he doesn't deserve this." "Deservewhat?" "He doesn't deserve my wanting to die. I truly wantto die ... ,,100

November 4th, at 2 a.m., Dylan awoke and left the hotelfor an hour and a half, coming back saying he'd drunk 18whiskeys. 101 He fell asleep, then on awakening complained

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that "he was having trouble breathing, that he must getoutside right away."

Liz took him for a brief walk. At his insistence, theystopped at the White Horse [where he had downed athird of his purported 18 whiskies the previous night],but this morning he could scarcely hold down a singlebeer, and even it so nauseated him that they had tohurry back to the hotel. At Liz's insistence, Dr. Felten-stein was summoned and gave Thomas "medicationthat eased his suffering sufficiently for him to sleep. "By late afternoon, however, his nausea returned and hebegan retching violently. Again Feltenstein was sum-moned.,,99

This time he gave Thomas an injection of ACTH. Oncemore Thomas fell asleep. Later-the ,details are difficult tocorroborate-Dylan asked to be "put out." Feltenstein gavehim an injection of half a grain of morphine sulfate.

A normal dose to relieve acute pain is one-sixth of agrain ... The "breathlessness" from which Thomas

had suffered in Wales was probably the result ofasthma and smoking, which impaired the function of hislungs. (Alcohol could depress his breathing ... or hemight have aspirated particles of vomit.) /fThomas wassuffering from any difficulty in breathing, the effect ofhalf a grain of morphine could be catastrophic. 102

Unconscious, he was taken by ambulance to St. Vincent'shospital, November 5, 1953. "By night-time, mucus hadbegun to obstruct Thomas' breathing, and an emergencytracheotomy had to be performed." Diagnosed with "acuteand chronic ethylism" (alcoholism) and "hypostatic bron-chopneumonia," his death at age 39 followed soon after.

In retrospect:Of Dylan Thomas' Illness: His projected image can be

viewed as that of a gifted man who used many stratagems toachieve sometimes contradictory goals, i.e., to be a publicfigure, but also to remain private in areas he reserved forhimself, such as his "bronchial condition." In this regard hewas misapprehended by many, including his wife, but notby his parents, who had shared the scene and circumstancesof his childhood asthmatic attacks and bouts of coughing.Although information relevant to causative factors and thenature of his asthma is not apparent in biographical sources,it might have been possible that his respiratory symptomscould have responded to one or another of the medicationsavailable in his time. Unfortunately, he resisted-even washostile to-physicians. In the same way some affected byneuroses would resist a Freud, 103 he "cleaved to his condi-tion" fearing that to do otherwise-consistent with psycho-logical concept-runs the risk of impairment, even loss, ofcreativity.




Of particular interest is the part that the circumstance ofasthma played in the genesis of Dylan Thomas' initiatives inradio broadcasting and book reading tours. As an indirectconsequence of his rejection for military service because ofphysical disability, he sought an alternative outlet for war-time contribution. In this regard the outcome was similar tothe experiences of Djuna Barnes and Francis Bacon; 104because of their asthma, new careers were evolved.

Had Dylan Thomas sought appropriate medical assis-tance before the onset of his serious illness while on tour inNew York, early incipient diabetes might have been de-tected and treated. Tragically, irreversibility was the pricepaid for the first finding of markedly elevated blood andspinal fluid sugar levels during his terminal comatose state.

The exact cause of his death is difficult to ascertain in aconsideration of the multiplicity of identified clinical fac-tors.105 Pertinent were cerebral edema (swelling of the braincells, diagnosed post mortem), presumed secondary to re-spiratory tract disease with consequently impaired oxygen-ation, and excessively elevated blood sugar levels leading toa serious metabolic disorder with progression to a poten-tially fatal comatose state ("diabetic shock").106

Although not known for certain, possible contributingroles for adverse effects of drugs-administered prior tohospital admission and definitive diagnostic study-cannotbe ruled out, i.e., injections of 1) cortisone, with secondaryside effects of elevated blood sugar; and 2) morphine sul-fate, with side effects of depression of respiration. In thetreatment of asthma, the double-edge (beneficial and ad-verse) actions of corticosteroids became increasingly wellknown after their introduction into clinical medicine in1949,107 just four years before Dylan Thomas' death.

Regarding contraindication of morphine, as early as the12th century, Moses Maimonides (1135-1204), while con-currently serving as a Cairo rabbi and physician in theEgyptian court of Saladin-in a treatise addressed to hisasthmatic patient, the Sultan's son Al-AfdalI04-cautionedagainst the use of opiates.108 Some 500 years later in theEnglish medical world, Thomas Willis-with first-handknowledge of the problems of treating asthma from his owncasel04-wrote of his prudent use of opiates only when allelse failed. "Whereas more or less they hinder breathing(already difficult and too impaired), they frequently bringthe patient into danger of life.,,109

There is the likelihood that relevant knowledge of thoseworks might have been limited primarily to historians ofmedicine, and in the instance of Maimonides, to Hebraicand Islamic scholars, even after translation of his text intoEnglish in 1963.108 Nevertheless, the point at issue had notbeen neglected in mainstream medical literature. Particu-larly in 1860, there were the published pertinent observa-tions and experiences of Henry Hyde Salter, the Londonphysician whose clinical studies and books were foremost inproviding teaching and insights on asthma. Like Willis,Salter also was affected by asthma,103 and similarly warnedagainst its uncritical use ... " I am not certain that I have


ever seen (opium) do good ... I have often seen it do harm... by lowering sensibility (opium) prevents acute andprompt perception of normal (respiratory) stimulus (to)breathing efforts (that are) necessary to restore balance ...Not only have I seen asthma worse for it when given duringa fit, but I have seen it brought on when it did not previouslyexist. I would say ... prefer any other sedative to opium,and, unless there is some special complication that indicatesit, never give it at all." 110

Of Dylan Thomas' Cultural Heritage: acclaim for hiswork may not be universal; no modern poet can claim that,but he has left a body of material which, admittedly modestin size, will endure. In the process he created a genre: poetrywhose effects appreciably increased what has never been avery large popular audience for such literature. The reader-ship of this Welshman (and his voice-recorded works mustbe included) holds steady, even in multiples, nearly half acentury after his death.

Of Dylan Thomas' pragmatic heritage: In a follow-upbiographical note:

His fame has not diminished in the years since hisdeath .... His home in Laugharne, The Boat House, isnow a museum restored with funds provided by theEuropean Economic Community, and there is a marketfor Dylan Thomas memorabilia of every kind. There areposters, postcards, plaques, mugs, sculptured busts,tableware, thimbles, trays and tea towels carrying ei-ther the Dylan Thomas or Boat House motif[or both] aswell as a wide array of books, video films and record-ings. One entrepreneur even marketed glass phials ofwhat was claimed to be Dylan Thomas's sweat. I I I

Would this often amusing Swansea Welshman beamused? Probably, but, knowing what he knew, he likelywould not be surprised.

NOTES1. Ferris, Biography, p. ]01.2. Ibid, p. 138.3. Fitzgibbon, Life, p. 17.4. Tremlett, Mercy of Means, p. ]9.5. Fitzgibbon, p. 33.6. William Blake (1757-]827), English poet, painter, engraver, and

visionary mystic; noted for ]yrical and epic poems; one of theearliest and highest regarded tigures of Romanticism. Thomas DeQuincey (1785-1859), English essayist and critic; best know forwork, Confessions of an English Opium-Eater (addiction for reliefof pain of facia] neuralgia). Christopher Marlow (1564-1593),English poet and most important pre-Shakesperean dramatist. EdgarAllan Poe (1809-]849), U.S. poet, critic, and short story writer;internationally famous for fictional mystery and macabre works.Jacob (1785-1863) and Wilhelm (1786-]859) Grimm, Germanbrothers, famous for classic folk songs and folklore (Grimm's FairyTales); also historical linguistics and Germanic philology. JohnKeats (1795-182]), English poet, noted for Romantic lyric versecharacterized by imagery, sensuous tone, and classical legend asmedium for philosophic expression. Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), English romantic poet; noted for lyrical verse and liberal

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values. Lord (George Gordon) Byron (1738-1824), English poetand satirist; preeminent representative of the Romantic movement.

6a. Biographical sketch of Wilhelm Grimm as an asthma sufferer ap-pears in an earlier section of this book.

7. Fitzgibbon, pp. 40-41.8. Ibid, p. 45-47.9. Ibid, p. 59.

10. Ferris, pp. 67-68.II. Caitlin Thomas, Life. p. 90.12. Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbraud (1854-1891), French poet.13. Ferris, p. 178.14. Ibid, p. 139.15. Jones, Poems, p. 26.16. [bid, p. 93.17. Ibid, p. 96.18. Ibid, p. 49.19. Sinclair, More Magical, p. 197.20. Tremlett, p. 19.21. Ibid, p. 60.22. [bid, p. 142.23. Brinnin, In America, p. 23.24. Ibid, p. 48.25. Ferris, pp. 189-190.26. Ibid, p. 32.27. Tremlett, pp. 24-27.28. Brinnin, pp. 46-47.29. Oscar Wilde (Fingal O'Flahertie Wills) (1854-1900), Irish wit,

poet, and dramatist; noted for comic masterpieces. Aubrey (Vincent)Beardsley (1872-1898), foremost English illustrator of the I890s;illustrated work of Oscar Wilde with whom he shared prominence inthe Aestheticism movement (doctrine that art exists for the sake ofsolely its beauty).

30. Tremlett, pp. 26-27.31. Fitzgibbon, p. 106.32. Ferris, p. 55.33. Ferris, p. 102.34. Nashold and Tremlett, Death of Dylan Thomas, p. 114.35. Letter to Pamela Hansford Johnson; Ferris, pp. 101-102.36. Tremlett, p. xxi.37. Ferris, pp. 229-230.38. Tremlett, p. [43.39. Fitzgibbon, pp. 108,241. John Davenport was a few years older than

Dylan. A heavily built and immensely strong man, at Cambridgehad acquired a considerable reputation both as a boxer and a poet.But he abandoned boxing and poetry sadly abandoned him, thoughin 1940 he was not yet fully aware of this. (In 193], when he feltpoetic inspiration flagging, he had asked T. S. Eliot for advice. Eliothad recommended that he not force his muse, and that he return toher in ten years' time. This advice he accepted, but when he soughther again in 1941 she had fled.) He has since become one of thebest-known non-academic critics of literature writing in English; aman of immensely wide culture, multilingual, a pianist of distinc-tion, a connoisseur of painting, and a wit. Both physically andintellectually this great bull-of-a-man whose mind is so fastidiousthat it has prevented him from any commitment other than occa-sional criticism is almost the exact opposite of bone-snapping,coughing, cocky Dylan, who gave himself away in every sense, andin almost every line he ever wrote. They had met and becomefriends in the very early Parton Street bookshop, days. When Johnhad gone to America with his first wife, Clement, the daughter of arich Bostonian, he wrote to Dylan: "I went to Hollywood to write afi1m for Robert Donat (also an asthma sufferer whose biographicalsketch appears in this book) ... RKO bought a thing ... theproducer discovered that the Young Pretender wasn't Charles II.He'd got the two Charlies mixed up ... Luckily Donat broke hiscontract at about that time, and I moved to another studio. I finishedup with $750 a week."

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40. Ferris, p. 303. One biographer degrades the matter of gonorrhea toa suggestion only that Dylan may have caught the disease from a girlhe met at an exhibition in 1936. Dylan himself boasted in Londonthat he "caught a dose of clap." He wrote, "I have battled with avenomous doctor who wanted me to go places with him and dothings but ... I won by a short lung. [ have to stay indoors for sixto eight weeks; don't tell the details of my present indispositions ...they might ruin my lecherous chances. No, I shan't begin dyingyet." In a 1936 letter to Geoffrey Grigson, quoted by Ferris, pp.136-137.

41. Jones, pp. 92-93; Ferris, p. 98.42. Tremlett, p. xvi. Review by Dame Edith Sitwell.43. Ferris, p. 146.44. Ibid, pp. 151-152.45. Tremlett, pp. 60-64.46. Caitlin Thomas, p. xi.47. Tremletl, p. 89.48. Caitlin Thomas, pp. 73-75.49. Tremlett, p. 116.50. Ibid, pp. 121-122.5!. Ferris, p. 288. One ingenious critic suggested a connection to milk

wood trees, which secrete latex. The implication-since the wood isa haunt of courting couples-is that Thomas was making a privatejoke about condoms; the "milk" could also be semen. Given hissense of humor and fondness for wordplay, this is not impossible.

52. Richard Burton (Richard Walters Jenkins, Jr.) (1925-1984), leadingBritish stage and motion picture actor of his time; known forpremier performances in historical and Shakespearean roles.

53. Sinclair, p. 197.54. James Joyce (1882-1941), Irish novelist, noted for experimental

approaches to language usage and exploring new literary methods inlarge fictional works.

55. Cox, Collection of Essays, pp. 99-100.56. Fitzgibbon, p. 239.57. Ferris, p. 172. Vernon Watkins, fellow Welsh writer and friend.58. Djuna Bames (1892-1982), American author whose biographical

sketch appears in an earlier section of this book.59. Henry (Valentine) Miller (1891-1980), U.S. author; novels noted

for free and easy style and sexual frankness.60. To Glyn Jones; Fitzgibbon, Letters, p. 236.61. Caitlin Thomas, p. 67.62. Tremletl, pp. 179, 182.63. Fitzgibbon, pp. 347-350.64. William Saroyan (1908-1981), U.S. author; noted for irreverent

tenor of stories dealing with joy of living regardless of trials ofpoverty, insecurity, and hunger.

65. Ferris, p. 188.66. Ibid, p. 226.67. Tremletl, p. 143.68. Letter to Margaret Taylor; Ferris, pp. 230-231. Thomas knew [his

teeth] were unsightly ... In Peter de Vries's Reuben, his [Dylan]Thomas-figure, McGland, suffers "the agonies of hell" worryingabout his teeth, and commits suicide when he hears he must havethem all out. This is an odd fancy to get from nowhere. De Vriessays (in a letter): "An interview with Dylan Thomas, I think in theNew York (Sunday) Times Book Review, in which he said somethinglike, 'say I'm balding and toothlessing', put me on the track of hisprobably acute dental problems. He was ostensibly satirizing Amer-ican journalese, which makes verbs of nouns and adjectives, butpublicly betraying an actual private obsession-so I surmised. Itwas only a step, or leap, of the imagination to make me suspect whata horror terminal tooth loss might be to a chronic womanizer,something tantamount to emasculation .... We've all sufferedenough in a dentist's chair to know that dental can become mental,and hindsight makes me seriously suspect clairvoyance in my div-ination of Dylan's teeth woes and anxieties vis-a-vis McGland's."(Ferris, p. 357.)




69. Igor (Fyodorovich) Stravinski (1882-1971), Russian-born composerespecially renowned for ballet scores.

70. Ferris, pp. 242-244.71. Brinnin, pp. 44-45.72. Tremlett, p. 12.73. Ferris, pp. 267-268.74. Caitlin Thomas, p. 90.75. [bid, pp. 67-68.76. Ibid, pp. 174-175.77. Brinnin, p. 149.78. Fitzgibbon, p. 335.79. Brenner, p. 225.80. Sinclair, p. 212.81. Ibid, p. 25.82. Ferris, p. 177.83. [bid, p. 185.84. Caitlin Thomas, p. 200.85. Fitzgibbon, Letters, p. 238. Sir Winston (Leonard Spenser)

Churchill (1874-1965), World War II British prime minister; asauthor received the 1953 Nobel prize for literature. Sir EdwardHoward Marsh (1872-1953), British man of letters and art collector,editor, translator and biographer; served as Churchill's private sec-retary for 20 years.

86. Ibid, p. 248.87. Ibid, p. 229. Not on this list was Kingsley Amis (Lucky Jim, 1954;

That Uncertain Feeling, 1955; Collected Poems. 1944-1979, 1979).As late as 1991, Amis still flailed away at Dylan, feeling no pity forstruggling poor boy Thomas making a mess of things: ''Thomas wasan outstandingly unpleasant man ... a pernicious figure, one whohelped to get Wales and Welsh poetry a bad name he cheatedand stole from his friends and peed on their carpets " (Tremlett,p. xxxiii). John Davenport, see note 39. Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979), U.S. art collector and patron; owned and operated galleries inEngland, New York, and London. Richard (Arthur Warren) Hughes(1900-1976); noted for plays, poetry and novels.

88. Ibid, p. 250.89. Ferris, p. 192.90. Brinnin, p. 270.91. Tremlett, p. 2. T(homas) S(tearns) Eliot (1888-1965), American-

born English poet, playwright, literary critic, and editor; leader ofpoetry's modernist movement and author of poetic dramas. W(ys-tan) H(ugh) Auden (1907-1973), British and subsequently natural-ized American poet; man of letters and critic; work had leftistorientation dealing with society's ills, intellectual and mora] prob-lems of public concern.

92. Ibid, p. 102.93. Cox, p. 24.94. Ibid, p. 27.95. Ibid, p. 54.96. Ibid, pp. 140-141. John Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891),

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1879).97. Ibid, p. 158.98. Tremlett, pp. 168-169.99. Prochnik, pp. 176-180.

100. Brinnin, pp. 271-272. Another instance of such suicidal talk, in1940, in a letter to Vernon Watkins: "in stinking and friendlessLondon, we've been having an awful time, and I have felt likekilling myself." (Ferris, p. 179). And, in Caitlin's telling, latesummer of 1951, "Dylan telephoned, and announced he was


going to commit suicide. Elizabeth Lutyens and I left the BoatHouse ... and found him in a pub ... drunk. I really went forhim, shouting " (Caitlin Thomas, pp. 160-161). About Dy-lan's children L1ewe]yn (b. 1939) attended Harvard, thenjoined J. Walter Thompson, the advertising agency, in London,where he became a successful copywriter, and currently worksfor the same company in Australia ... Colin (b. ]949) attendedan Australian university; like his brother, settled in that countryand is in Government service ... Aeronwy (b. 1943) lives in aLondon suburb and is married to a Welsh social worker ... Abook of her poems, Later than Laugharne. was published in1976, under her married name of Aeronwy Thomas-Ellis. (Ferris,p. 370).

101. Fitzgibbon, p. 345.102. Ferris, pp. 306-308.103. Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), Austrian neurologist and pioneering

psychiatrist; founder of the psychoanalytic school.104. See their biographical sketches as asthma sufferers in corresponding

titled sections of this book.105. Nashold and Tremlett, pp. 164-168.106. "diabetic shock," the diagnosis given in his case analysis. The term

likely was used to denote commonly fatal diabetic coma eventuatingfrom the metabolic disorder of inadequately treated and severediabetes; resultant development of toxic chemical (ketoacidosis) anddisturbance of water and electrolyte balance affecting the centralnervous system.

107. Hench P, Kendall E et al. The effect of a hormone ... on rheumatoidarthritis. Proc Soc Meetings Mayo Clinic 24: 181, 1949.

108. Munter M, ed. Maimonides M. Treatise on Asthma. Philadelphia:Lippincott; 1962, p. 64.

109. Willis T. Pharmaceutice Rationalis: Or an Exercitation of the Op-erations of Medicines in Humane Bodies. London: 1878, T. Dring,C. Harper, and J. Leigh, p. ]47.

110. Salter HH. On Asthma: Its Pathology and Treatment, 2nd ed.London: Churchill, ] 860. (Philadelphia: Blanchard and Lea, 1864,pp. 137-138).

111. Tremlett, p. 181.

BIBLIOGRAPHYBrinnin JM. Dylan Thomas in America. Boston: Little, Brown, 1955.Cox CB, ed. Dylan Thomas: A Collection of Critical Essays. Englewood

Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1966.Ferris P. Dylan Thomas, A Biography. New York: Dial, 1977.Fitzgibbon C. The Life of Dylan Thomas. Boston: Little, Brown, 1965.Fitzgibbon C, ed. Selected Letters of Dylan Thomas. New York: New

Directions, 1965.Jones D, ed. The Poems of Dylan Thomas. New York: New Directions,

1971.Nashold J, and Tremlett G. The Death of Dylan Thomas. Edinburgh:

Mainstream, 1997.Prochnik L. Endings. New York: Crown, 1980.Sinclair A. Dylan Thomas: No Man More Magical. New York: Henry Holt,

Rinehart & Winston, 1975.Thomas C, and Tremlett G. Caitlin: Life With Dylan Thomas. New York:

Henry Holt, 1986.Tremlett G. Dylan Thomas: ]n the Mercy of His Means. New York: St.

Martin's, 1991.

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Documents

Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), by Cohen SG, Rizzo PL