T. E. Lawrence to his family

Carchemish

 Nov. 10, 1912

I wrote about a week ago: but no matter I'll write again. Our last novelty was a letter from Mr. Fontana, prophesying the fall of the Turkish Empire, and apparently he has some justification for his ideas. You will know what has happened, and we only get news by back-stairs and in delays: still I think it is obvious that the Balkan states have the better of it. Posts and telegraphs have come to an end, so far as Aleppo is concerned: Fontana hopes to send these to Beyrout and Egypt: all boats have stopped coming except French warships arriving in Beyrout. The really serious affair for us at the moment is that the B.M. frightened at the prospects, has written to say that it withholds the last £550 that Mr. Hogarth gave it for us this year; by paying out our salaries and travelling expenses we can just meet our bills in Aleppo: but we must stop work this week for the most part, and borrow afresh from Mr. Fontana to get home! We won't come yet (indeed with the possibility of trouble in Beyrout it would be silly) but will sit out here and look on at what is going to come of Turkey. You must not be alarmed at a cessation of letters from me for about a fortnight: or even more.

You will note in the papers the date at which communications with Asiatic Turkey are renewed by mail steamers, and expect letters about ten or twelve days later. Till then all I write will accumulate in the hands of our consuls. I hope this gets round to warn you.

The Armenians of the N. intend a small demonstration to show Europe their claims to separate treatment: don't jump to the idea that we are in Armenia and revolting or being revolted. We are in Jerablus (and probably camped out) digging the tombs cut in the rock behind the lower village with the ten or twenty men we can afford to employ. And we can find the wages of these men for another six weeks. That will give us time to receive Mr. Hogarth's answer to our cheque (we have drawn bills on him) and relieve the situation. We give up the Museum in disgust. Mr. Hogarth paid them over £1,200 for our use this season, and they send us (in slow relays) £650 and then write (in the middle of the season) that they intend to hold on to the remainder of our credits! It is very good business for them, but we are insolvent. However, the weather is warm and pleasant: our house roof now water-tight and mudded over, our mosaic complete and waxed to act as a damp-course; Kurd carpets, a huge boat-load of olive-tree roots for firewood, and a scientifically constructed hearth with stone pillars to flank it on Hittite column bases, and copper back and hood to refract the heat. All this makes us delightfully comfortable. Eleven boxes of stores Mr. Fontana found arrived one morning, and set up by a cavass (the celebrated Fattuh, of Miss Gertrude Bell): so we have loganberry jam, and wheatmeal biscuits and linen sheets and shortbread: and everything possible photographic and chocolate and asparagus and medicines to stock a ship: not to mention the eleven pound tins of curry-powder in stock, which we feel to be a great stand-by. You will be glad to hear of 10 tins of Cooper's marmalade. Our jams this year are from eleven firms, and our stores in all from 19 countries: origin has to be given for customs purposes: did you know that rubber sponges were made in Russia: we have those with caviare from that country. Cerebos salt got through this year labelled chemically: salt is here bad, and a government monopoly.

Got a letter asking if I was Flecker's "archaeologist". He wrote the poem about ten years back about one Beasley a don at Ch. Ch. I wrote and asked you for Middleton: no doubt that letter failed, and I will be back before the reply to this reaches here: many thanks indeed for the Doughty: Go on writing to the consulate at Aleppo: though much of it will be waste labour.

N.