THE SECRET OF LAWRENCE’S SUCCESS
Among the hundreds of questions that I have been asked about
Colonel Lawrence by press and public in every part of the world,
some of the most frequent have been: What was the secret of
Lawrence’s success, and how could a Christian and a European gain
such influence over fanatical Mohammedans? What reward has Lawrence
received? Is he going to write a book? Where is he now, how does
he earn his living, and what is going to become of him? What are
his hobbies? Will he ever marry? Is he a normal human being and
has he a sense of humor?
Photograph: “SHEREEF” LAWRENCE
Photograph: A CAMEL CARAVAN IN THE WADI ARABIA
Of course there have been a host of factors that have contributed
to his success, that gained him his influence, and that enabled
him to win not only the respect of the Arabs but their admiration
and their devotion as well. They respected him partly because,
although a mere youth, he seemed to have more wisdom than their
wise men. They admired him partly because of his personal prowess,
his ability to outdo them at the things in which they excel, such
as camel-riding and shooting, and also because of his courage and
modesty. He usually led them in battle, and under fire he was
courageous to a fault. Wounded a number of times, his injuries,
fortunately, were never serious enough to keep him out of action.
Often he was too far from a base to get medical attention, so that
his wounds were obliged to heal themselves. The Arabs became
devoted to him because he gained them victories and then tactfully
gave all the credit to his companions. That he was a Christian they
considered unfortunate, and they decided that it was an accident
and in some mysterious way “the will of Allah,” but some of them
regarded him as one sent from heaven by their Prophet to help free
them from the Turks.
West and East fraternize politely, if rather inharmoniously, in
the more accessible towns of Arabia and Syria, for the West has
money to spend and the East is avaricious. But away in the desert
and wild places it is otherwise. The nomads, whose ancestors have
roamed the country for four thousand years and more, resist the
inquisitive eyes and hungry notebooks of foreigners who are not
proved friends. They still regard stray Europeans with hostile
suspicion and as fair subjects for loot. But Lawrence’s minute
knowledge of their intricate customs, and his apparent complete
mastery of the Koran and complex Mohammedan law, caused them to
regard him with a tolerance and respect which are exceedingly rare
among the fanatical peoples of the Near East. And of course his
knowledge of their customs and laws was of incalculable importance
in enabling him to settle disputes between antagonistic factions.
To gain his ends it was necessary for Lawrence to be a consummate
actor. He was obliged completely to submerge his European mode of
living, even at the risk of winning the criticism and ridicule of
his own countrymen, by appearing in cities like Cairo, where East
and West meet, garbed as an Oriental. His critics scoffed and said
that he did this merely to gain notoriety. But there was a far
deeper reason. Lawrence knew that he was being watched constantly
by shereefs, sheiks, and tribesmen, and he knew that they would
regard it as a very great compliment to them if he went about, even
among his own people, dressed in the costume of the desert.
During those first days which I had spent with Lawrence in Jerusalem
he wore nothing but Bedouin garb. Nor did he ever appear to be
aware of the curiosity excited by his costume in the streets of
the Holy City, for he always gave one the impression that he was
engrossed in his own thoughts hundreds of miles or hundreds of
centuries away. And usually on the occasion when he visited
Palestine and Egypt in Arab kit, he was obliged to go direct to
Ramleh or Cairo from one of his expeditions across the desert. He
was therefore obliged to turn up at headquarters just as he happened
to be dressed for his work, without wasting the valuable days which
would have been required for him to return all the way south to
the base-camp at Akaba for a uniform, just to satisfy his critics.
When in the desert he never wore anything but Arab garb, nor could
he have succeeded in the amazing way that he did had he offended
the Arabs by wearing European costume. When off “in the blue” on
his she-dromedary, it was not feasible for Lawrence to take a
wardrobe along in his camel-bags. The speed with which he trekked
obliged him to travel light. In fact, he usually carried nothing
but a lump of unleavened bread, a bit of chocolate, his canteen,
chlorine tablets, a tooth-brush, a rifle, revolver and ammunition,
and his little volume of the satires of Aristophanes in the
original.
The rifle which he carried through the whole campaign had a colorful
history. Just one of the ordinary British Army variety, the Turks
had captured it at the Dardanelles, and Enver Pasha had adorned it
with a metal plate worked with gold and carrying the inscription,
“To Feisal, with Enver’s regards.” Enver had given it to Emir
Feisal early in 1916, before the outbreak of the Shereefian
Revolution, in order to prove to Feisal that the Turks had already
won the war. Later the Emir gave it to Lawrence, and the latter
carried it on all his raids. For every Turk he killed he cut a
notch, a big one for an officer and a little one for a soldier.
The rifle is now in the possession of King George.
Occasionally when he went to Cairo or to Jerusalem to make a report
to General Allenby, he wore the uniform of a British officer, but
even after he had attained the rank of colonel he preferred the
uniform of a second lieutenant, usually without insignia of any
kind. I have seen him in the streets of Cairo without a belt and
with unpolished boots—negligence next to high treason in the
British army! To my knowledge he was the only British officer in
the war who so completely disregarded all the little precisions
and military formalities for which Tommy Atkins and his “hofficers”
are world famous. Lawrence rarely saluted, and when he did it was
simply with a wave of the hand, as though he were saying, “Hulloa,
old man,” to a pal. He rarely saluted any one senior to him,
although he always made it a point to acknowledge salutes from men
in the ranks. As for military titles, he abhorred them, and from
general to private he was known as plain “Lawrence.” Several times
in the desert he told me how thoroughly he disliked the red tape
of the army and said that as soon as the war was over he intended
to go back to archæology.
He was no parlor conversationalist. Lawrence rarely said anything
to any one unless it was necessary to give instructions or ask
advice or answer a direct question. Even in the heat of the Arabian
campaign he sought solitude. Frequently I found him in his tent
reading an archæological quarterly when the rest of the camp was
worked up to fever-pitch over a plan of attack. He was so shy that
when General Sir Gilbert Clayton, the distinguished commander of
the Secret Corps, or some other officer sought to compliment him
on one of his exploits, he would get red as a school-girl and look
down at his feet.
Several years ago, in Calcutta, Colonel Robert Lorraine, the
eminent actor-airman, said to me, “But if Lawrence is so extremely
modest and shy, why did he pose for so many photographs for you?”
A keen question and a natural one. And out of justice to Lawrence
I think I ought to answer it, even at the expense of disclosing a
professional secret. My cameraman, Mr. Chase, uses a high-speed
camera. We saw considerable of Colonel Lawrence in Arabia, and
although he arranged for us to get both “still” and motion pictures
of Emir Feisal, Auda Abu Tayi, and the other Arab leaders, he would
turn away when he saw the lens pointing in his direction. We got
more pictures of the back of his kuffieh than of his face. But
after much strategy and after using all the artifices that I had
learned as a reporter on a Chicago newspaper, where it was worth
one’s job to fail to bring back a photograph of the fair lady
involved in the latest scandal, I finally manœuvered Lawrence into
allowing Chase to take a “sitting shot” on two different occasions.
Then while I kept Colonel Lawrence’s attention away from Mr. Chase
by keeping up a rapid fire of questions regarding our projected
trip to the “lost city” of Petra, which he believed to be the
primary object of our visit to Arabia, Mr. Chase hurriedly took a
dozen pictures from as many different angles, and in less time than
it usually requires for a fussy studio photographer to set up and
expose two plates. Any one familiar with the methods of newspaper
photographers will appreciate the simplicity of this where you are
working out of doors in good light. If you’ve got a graphlex and
don’t get stricken with buck-fever at the critical moment, you can
get photographs of St. Vitus himself. I realized that Lawrence was
one of the most romantic figures of the war. I knew that we had a
great scoop. And I had made up my mind that we would not leave
Arabia until we had the photographs we wanted. Frequently Chase
snapped pictures of the colonel without his knowledge, or just at
the instant that he turned and found himself facing the lens and
discovered our perfidy. When two experienced hunters start out for
game, one to act as decoy and the other to do the shooting, the
poor victim has about as much chance as the Bengal tiger who has
been selected as the target for visiting royalty.
But to get back to the topic of how Lawrence succeeded in obtaining
such a wonderful hold over the Arabs by dressing like them and
mastering the smallest details of their daily life, by his courage,
his modesty, his physical prowess and his mature wisdom, there can
hardly be any question that the way in which this youth gained the
confidence, not only of the more cosmopolitan descendants of the
Prophet who rule over the cities of Holy Arabia, but also of the
Bedouin tribes of the desert, will be regarded by historians of
the future as one of the most amazing personal achievements of this
age.
The phenomenal character of his accomplishment can be more
accurately appraised if we keep in mind that for thirteen hundred
years, since the days of Mohammed, fewer Europeans have explored
Holy Arabia than have penetrated mysterious Tibet or Central
Africa. The zealous Mohammedans who live around the sacred cities
of Mecca and Medina prevent Christians, Jews, and other
non-Mohammedans from profaning holy soil, and the unbeliever who
ventures into this part of Arabia is indeed lucky if he returns
alive. So Lawrence’s achievements seem all the more extraordinary
when we remember that he admitted openly that he was a Christian.
For even though he did wear the robes and accoutrements of a
shereef of Mecca, he only actually posed as an Oriental when he
slipped through the Turkish lines wearing the veil of a native
woman.
Of course the vast wealth which he had at his disposal, the
seemingly inexhaustible supply of gold sovereigns with which he
paid his army, was of vast importance. But though the Germans and
Turks also tried using gold, their weakness lay in the fact that
they “had no Lawrence,” declares H. St. John Philby, the Arabian
authority, who represented Britain in the Central Arabian Desert
ruled over by Ibn Sa’ud.
Colonel Lawrence played the part of a man of mystery endowed with
the ability to do everything superlatively well, outvying the Arabs
at everything from statecraft to camel-riding, and even to using
delicate shadings of their own language. In fact, language seems
easy for him. In addition to his mother-tongue, he speaks French,
Italian, Spanish, and German, some Dutch, Norwegian, and Hindustani,
is a master of ancient Latin and Greek, and can manipulate many of
the Arabic dialects of the Near East.
Lawrence was exceedingly careful never to enter into competition
with the Bedouins unless he was quite certain of excelling them.
He also gained a reputation as a man of deeds rather than words,
which greatly impressed the desert-dwellers, who for the most part
chatter as incessantly as the crows of India. When he did speak he
had something of importance to say and knew whereof he spoke. He
seldom made errors, and when he did he took care that the Arabs
should ultimately regard it as a success. He was an indefatigable
worker even under conditions of ever-insistent hospitality, and he
would work far into the night when his Arab colleagues were asleep.
It was late at night, or while trekking across the desert swaying
in the camel-saddle, that he would plan his far-reaching policies
of diplomacy and strategy. Small and wiry, he seemed made of steel.
But the desert war left its indelible mark on him in more ways than
one, for one of his brothers confided to me that ever since his
return from Arabia he has suffered from severe heart-strain.
Auda Abu Tayi, always sincere in his judgment of people, once said
to me: “I have never seen any one with such a capacity for work,
and he is one of the finest camel-riders that ever trekked across
the desert.” A Bedouin can pay no finer compliment. Then added
Auda, “By the beard of the Prophet, he seems more than a man!”