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T. E. Lawrence to S. F. Newcombe
16. 2. 20
Dear S.F.,
I owe you five letters! At first it wasn't worth while for
you were reported to me in one week as at Aleppo, Azrak, Bagdad and Cairo:
and then it became a habit.
However the arrival of a smaller (I hope not cheaper) edition is an
occasion for a bookworm like myself. The editio princeps always has a
special value: but in some cases (Shakespeare folios e.g.) new matter is
embodied in the reprints, which give them a market reputation little, if
any, less than original. At the same time collectors, and especially
collectors of sentiment, always prefer the genuine article.
However Mrs. Newcombe will regard the graft as the first. These things,
as Solomon quoted from Adam's table-talk, depend on the point of view.
Please give her my heartiest congratulations.
Then about business. Of course Lawrence may have been the name of your
absolutely favourite cousin or aunt, (observe my adroitness in sex), and
if so I will be dropping an immodest brick by blushing - but if it
isn't, aren't you handicapping 'it'? In the history of the world (cheap
edition) I'm a sublimated Aladdin, the thousand and second Knight, a
Strand-Magazine strummer. In the eyes of 'those who know' I failed
badly in attempting a piece of work which a little more resolution would
have pushed through, or left un-touched. So either case it is bad for
the sprig, unless, as I said, there is a really decent aunt.
As for god-fathering him, I asked two or three people what it meant,
and
their words were ribald. Perhaps it is because people near me lose that
sense of mystery which distance gives. Or else it was because they
didn't know it was you - or at least yours. Anyhow I can't find out what
it means, and so I shall be delighted to take it on. Everybody agrees it
means a silver mug - but tell me first if his complexion is red or
white: I wouldn't commit a colour-discord.
Give Rose my love you will know what to say... something neat,
and
not too Newcomian. As for the rugs, please take any that seem worthy to
you. There were two Afghans in the Arab Bureau, and a big (and not bad but
thin) Shiraz, in the Savoy.
I have abandoned Oxford,
and wander about town from a bedroom in Pimlico,
(temporary, for Bethnal Green is nicer to the nose) looking at the
stars. It is nicer than looking at Lord Curzon.
Please give Mrs. Newcombe my very best regards. How odd it must be
having married you. Tell her my letter wasn’t fit for
her to see.
L.
Hogarth sends his warmest congrats. to all three.
Seriously I am changing my own name, to be more quiet, and wish I could
change my face, to be more lovely, and beloved!
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