Comparing the texts of Seven Pillars of Wisdom
by T. E. Lawrence, PART 1

Last Updated 22 NOV. 2008 ver.1.10
Comparing the two editions of Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T. E. Lawrence, PART 1
[A] The 1922 Oxford text, printed in 1922; edited by Jeremy Wilson and published in 1997 and 2003. [ See Castle Hill Press' prospectus ]
[B] The Subscribers' edition (abridged edition), 1926; Trade edition, 1935, 1940 and 1973.
1922 Oxford text (J. and N. Wilson 2004 edition) 1973 edition (Book Club Associates)
[Sherif Hussein, 1916]
[A] Father: Sherif Hussein
Sherif Hussein (Sayidna as they called him) was outwardly so clean and gentle-mannered as to seem almost weak, but this appearance hid a crafty policy, deep ambition, and an un-Arabian foresight, strength of character, and obstinacy. There was never need of an Arab secret society in Mecca, for the had been always an Arab Government. In the towns he played Arabs' advocate with the Turkish Government, but in the country districts his influence was strong enough to be administrative and there his power lay, with his tastes and sympathies. His interest in natural history reinforced his sporting instincts, and made him, when he pleased, a fair copy of a Beduin prince, while his Circassian mother had endowed him with qualities foreign to both Turk and Arab, and he displayed considerable astuteness in turning now one, now another of his assets to advantage.

An instance of his worldly wisdom was the upbringing of his sons. (Chapter 16; 2004 ed. pp.83-84)
 [B] Father: Sherif Hussein
Sherif Hussein (Sayidna as they called him) was outwardly so clean and gentle-mannered as to seem weak; but this appearance hid a crafty policy, deep ambition, and an un-Arabian foresight, strength of character and obstinacy. His interest in natural history reinforced his sporting instincts, and made him (when he pleased) a fair copy of a Beduin prince, while his Circassian mother had endowed him with qualities foreign to both Turk and Arab, and he displayed considerable astuteness in turning now one, now another of his inherited assets to present advantage.

Yet the school of Turkish politics was so ignoble that not even the best could graduate from it unaffected. Hussein when young had been honest, outspoken . . . and he learned not merely to suppress his speech, but to use speech to conceal his honest purpose. The art, over-indulged, became a vice from which he could not free himself. In old age ambiguity covered his every communication. Lake a cloud it hid his decision of character, his worldly wisdom, his cheerful strength. Many denied him such qualities: but history gave proof.

One instance of his worldly wisdom was the upbringing of his sons. (Chapter 14; Penguin ed. pp.100-01）
[Emir Ali]
[A] the eldest son: Ali
To Ali himself I took a great fancy. He was of middle height, thin, and looking already more than his thirty-seven years. He stooped a little. His skin was sallow, his eyes large and deep and brown, his nose thin and rather hooked, his mouth sad and drooping. He had a spare black beard and very delicate hands. His manner was dignified and courteous, but simple, and he struck me as a conscientious careful pleasant gentleman, without great force of character, nervous, and rather tired. His physical weakness (he was consumptive) made him subject to quick fits of shaking passion, preceded and followed by long moods of infirm obstinacy. He was bookish, learned in law and religion, and pious almost to fanatical degree. He was too conscious of his high heritage to be ambitious; and his nature was too clean to see or suspect interested motives in those about him. Consequently he was much the prey of any constant companion, and a little too sensitive to advice for a great leader, though his purity of intention and conduct would gain him the affectionate regard of those who came into direct contact with him. (Chapter 12; 2004 ed. pp.59-60）
 [B] the eldest son: Ali
To Ali himself I took a great fancy. He was of middle height, thin and looking already more than his thirty-seven years. He stooped a little. His skin was sallow, his eyes large and deep and brown, his nose thin and rather hooked, his mouth sad and drooping. He had a spare black beard and very delicate hands. His manner was dignified and admirable, but direct; and he struck me as a pleasant gentleman, conscientious, without great force of character, nervous, and rather tired. His physical weakness (he was consumptive) made him subject to quick fits of shaking passion, preceded and followed by long moods of infirm obstinacy. He was bookish, learned in law and religion, and pious almost to fanaticism. He was too conscious of his high heritage to be ambitious; and his nature was too clean to see or suspect interested motives in those about him. Consequently he was much the prey of any constant companion, and too sensitive to advice for a great leader, though his purity of intention and conduct gained him the love of those who came into direct contact with him. (Chapter 10; Penguin ed. pp.76-77）
[Emir Abdulla, 1921]
[A] the second son: Abdulla
Abdulla, on a white mare, came to us softly with a bevy of richly-armed slaves on foot about him, through the silent and respectful salutes of the townsmen. He was flushed with his success at Taif, and inclined to be happy in his outlook upon life. This cheerfulness made a facourable impression on me. I was seeing Abdulla for the first time, while Storrs was an old friend, and on the best of terms: yet, before long, as they spoke together, I began to suspect a constant cheerfulness in him. His eyes had a confirmed twinkle, and though only thirty-five, he was already beginning to put on flesh. This might be due to too much laughter. Life seemed very merry for Abdulla. He was short, strong, fair-skinned, with a carefully trimmed brown beard, a round smooth face, and full short lips. They called him the Albanian behind his back, because of his fair colour. In manner he was open, or affected to be, and was charming on acquaintance. He stood not at all on ceremony, but jested with all comers in most easy fashion: yet, when we fell into serious talk, the veil of humour seemed to fade away. He then chose his words carefully, and argued shrewdly. Of course, he was in discussion with Storrs, who demanded a high standard from his opponent. (Chapter 10; 2004 ed. pp.48-49）

[...] and as our conversation proceeded, I became more and more sure that Abdulla was too balanced, too cool, too humorous to be a prophet: especially the armed prophet whom history assured me was the successful type in such circumstances. His value would come perhaps in the peace after the movement had succeeded, as it had been before the outbreak, in laying the political groundwork of the Sherif's magnetism, self-sacrifice and devotion were needed, Abdulla would be an inefficient instrument, a tool too complex for a simple purpose. (Chapter 10; 2004 ed. p.49）
 [B] the second son: Abdulla
Abdulla, on a white mare, came to us softly with a bevy of richly-armed slaves on foot about him, through the silent respectful salutes of the town. He was flushed with his success at Taif, and happy. I was seeing him for the first time, while Storrs was an old friend, and on the best of terms; yet, before long, as they spoke together, I began to suspect him of a constant cheerfulness. His eyes had a confirmed twinkle; and though only thirty-five, he was putting on flesh. It might be due to too much laughter. Life seemed very merry for Abdulla. He was short, strong, fair-skinned, with a carefully trimmed brown beard, masking his round smooth face and short lips. In manner he was open, or affected openness, and was charming on acquaintance. He stood not on ceremony, but jested with all comers in most easy fashion: yet, when we fell into serious talk, the veil of humour seemed to fade away. He then chose his words, and argued shrewdly. Of course, he was in discussion with Storrs, who demanded a high standard from his opponent. (Chapter 8; Penguin ed. p.67）

As our conversation continued, I became more and more sure that Abdulla was too balanced, too cool, too humorous to be a prophet: especially the armed prophet who, if history be true, succeeded in revolutions. His value would come perhaps in the peace after success. During the physical struggle, when singleness of eye and magnetism, devotion and self-sacrifice were needed, Abdulla would be a tool too complex for a simple purpose, though he could not be ignored, even now. (Chapter 8; Penguin ed. p.68）
[Emir Feisal, 1918]
[A] the third son: Feisal
Obeid said something to a slave who stood there with silver-hilted sword in his hand. He led me through a second gate into an inner court, and across it I saw framed between the post of a black doorway, a white figure waiting tensely for me. This was Feisal, and I felt at the glance that now I had found the man whom I had come to Arabia to seek, the leader alone needed to make the Arab Revolt win throught to a success. He looked very tall and pillar-like, very slender, dressed in long white silk robes and a brown headcloth bound with a brilliant scarlet and gold cord. His eyelids were dropped; and his close black beard and colourless face were like a mask against the strange still watchfulness of his body. His hands were loosely crossed in front of him on his dagger. (Chapter 14; 2004 ed. p.75-76）

His movements were impetuous; he showed himself hot-tempered and proud, sometimes unreasonable, and he ran off soon tangents. He communicated a sense of abounding desire, untamed except by physical weakness, waiting always to leap out and strile. His personal charm, his imprudence, the pathetic hint of weakness in reserve made him the idol of his followers. One never asked if he were scrupulous: but he showed later that he could return trust for trust, and suspicion for suspicion. He was fuller of wit than of humour. (Chapter 15; 2004 ed. p.82）
 [B] the third son: Feisal
Tafas said something to a slave who stood there with silver-hilted sword in hand. He led me to an inner court, on whose further side, framed between the uprights of a black doorway, stood a white figure waiting tensely for me. I felt at first glance that this was the man I had come to Arabia to seek -- the leader who would bring the Arab Revolt to full glory. Feisal looked very tall and pillar-like, very slender, in his long white silk robes and his brown head-cloth bound with a brilliant scarlet and gold cord. His eyelids were dropped; and his black beard and colourless face were like a mask against the strange, still watchfulness of his body. His hands were crossed in front of him on his dagger. (Chapter 12; Penguin ed. p.92）

His movements were impetuous. He showed himself hot-tempered and sensitive, even unreasonable, and he ran off soon on tangents. Appetite and physical weakness were mated in him, with the spur of courage. His personal charm, his imprudence, the pathetic hint of frailty as the sole reserve of this proud character made him the idol of his followers. One never asked if he were scrupulous; but later he showed that he could return trust for trust, suspicion for suspicion. He was fuller of wit than of humour. (Chapter 13; Penguin ed. p.98）
[Emir Zeid, 1918]
[A] the Fourth son: Zeid
Zeid was a shy, white beardless lad of perhaps nineteen, cold and flippant, no enthusiast for the Revolt. Indeed, his mother was a Turk, and he had been brought up in the house all his life, so that he could hardly feel great sympathy with an Arab revival; but he did his best this day to be pleasant, and surpassed Ali, perhaps because his feelings were not much outraged at the departure of a Christian for the interior of the holy province under the auspices of the Emir of Mecca. Zeid of course was even less qualified even than Abdulla to fulfil my quest for the born leader: though I liked him, and could see that he would be a decided man when he had found himself. (Chapter 12; 2004 ed. p.60）
 [B] the Fourth son: Zeid
Zeid was a shy, white, beardless lad of perhaps nineteen, calm and flippant, no zealot for the revolt. Indeed, his mother was Turkish; and he had been brought up in the harem, so that he could hardly feel great sympathy with an Arab revival; but he did his best this day to be pleasant, and surpassed Ali, perhaps because his feelings were not much outraged at the departure of a Christian into the Holy Province under the auspices of the Emir of Mecca. Zeid, of course, was even less than Abdulla the born leader of my quest. Yet I liked him, and could see that he would be a decided man when he had found himself. (Chapter 10; Penguin ed. p.77）

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