Letters: Eric Warburg
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My dear boy,
Now that you’re old enough to think about other things than just drinking and sleeping, you should concern yourself a little with what is going on in the world. I would love to talk with you about a few matters, however that is difficult in the presence of ladies. First they don’t let you get a word in edgewise, then they don’t let you finish what you were saying, and meanwhile pay no attention. This is especially true in the case of Mrs. Petzold, your first love, and does not apply to your mother – my wife, since I am after all your father. Your mother differs completely from other mothers, and I, mind you, never expect, as other fathers do, that you should consider me infallible – no, I don’t, but you should always thank me for giving you your mother, for I chose her specially for you.
Since you’ve been here, I’ve asked myself again and again if you are musical? Not musical in the usual sense of the word, but rather whether you might have the ability to lead a harmonious life. Will you try to conduct yourself according to what you really feel inside? Or will you let yourself be blinded by empty talk? Will you fall into the same rut as others, too lazy to strike out in your own direction? Only one thing gives life satisfaction: struggle with yourself until you achieve self-knowledge – and live life through your own personality.
Why do I write you such things, even though you aren’t even three months old? Because right at this moment the world around you has become a playground for self-deception and lies: the Kaiser is sending his troops to China, where his missionaries are supposed to proclaim the religion of love, and is swearing to avenge the assassination of his envoy in Peking. The Czar who convened The Hague peace conference is violating his undertakings to the Finns. The English and the Boers pray to the same Protestant God of justice requesting success in battle, and continue to kill each other in Christian love.
We are in an era of historical regression: chauvinism and religious fanaticism rule the world; so every individual has to be strong enough to resist being influenced, and to help keep this unfortunate historical moment as brief as possible. Now even established civil rights seem less than firm (in France, the Dreyfus case, in Germany, the Konitz ritual murder affair) and so we must rally our forces, and show some backbone. So drink: milk, milk, and yet again milk, and I’m sure that the harmony I wish for you – because the world has none – will surely be yours!
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Somewhere in North Africa, 19 March 1943
My dear Gisi
I think it was on the 19 January that you wrote to me from Palm Beach. It is about 2 weeks ago that your letter arrived and about 1 week ago that I started to answer you. Since then I have been so constantly on the go that there was no ghost of a chance of finishing it. Well, I have not got it handy but thought of making use of waiting at a different place to start all over again.
All what you write interested me so very much. So you still see the oil king or has he got a successor?
I cannot visualize even getting any leave. Such things do not exist and if I do: I am very far from Palestine so that - much as I would like to - I will hardly get there. The vastness of this landscape, geographically and its timelessness, historically, of course, is fascinating. Still it is all very alien to me and I would not like to live here. The climate is impossible. If you could only have seen me with my little French car in the mud. The question only is: am I in the right or in the left ditch to be pulled out of. The car is much like the little fourseater you last owned. 3 days ago I got stuck with a jeep. Had to be pulled out. After such a day it takes about 2 hours to rid oneself of the mud and when it dries: dust. And dust and mud live so close together! In time, too. It is interesting to watch the storks leave. They are charming brids. Ever so graceful. They all leave just now in great quantities on their way to Europe. The rainy season should come to an end in some weeks but then I suppose the heat and the mosquitoes will start. The Arabs for whom I have no use are the most degenerate, laziest, foulest, unattractive race I could think of, have certainly let this country go to hell. By irrigation and proper reforestation I am sure that a great deal could be done but it would take generations and just now we have - as you can imagine - slightly different tasks to perform. My job remains fascinating and I would not exchange it for anything.
I am delighted that Father is taking the criticism on his book like a lamb and is it. It should then become good. If it will be published just now or not, will be then of almost secondary importance once compared to the necessity to have it "ready" for publication.
If you see Margaret Ichermast, give her my best. Also to all our other friends. And don't work too hard. It is not worth it. (The North African tents aren't worth it either!)
Lots of love
yours as ever,
Eric.
Write soon again. Give mother a big hug from me and tell her that the shirts arrived today. Many thanks!
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Somewhere in North Africa,
Dear Gisi,
Thanks for your letter of 6 March which just arrived - both pages. Out here I rather like your inability to condense your mental flow to 1 page like a soldier. - The judge in Boston sounds alright if he is just as decent as brilliant. Decency comes first. We have too much brilliance. Don't get yourself a Walter Str. - I have a longing to read and get in once in a while a few pages of Kipling's Jungle Book which I found here but my work is so absorbing, I am so constantly on the move that one does not find the peace for it or for painting - and the country longs for being immortalized also on my cameras. This morning you should have been at the breakfast table. Present: a captain from Boston who is a great archaeologist. Topic: Palestine, where he was for quite some time digging. He agrees with me so (or I with him) that I shall not quote him for then you might start writing letters to me which I would regret. Just keep that flow up the way you have it now started. Yest, all the boys are very homesick and it worries me as a detrimental factor for America winning this time, not just the war but also the peace. I feel that way too but know perfectly well that as soon as I had seen you all I would be longing to get back here or wherever the job needs finishing.
Much love
your Eric
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Somewhere in North Africa, July 18th 1943
Dear Gisi: Thanks for your letter of the 5th of June, written on Father's bristling. It was the first I got from you in about 2 months (not weeks!). I am sorry about Rico and wrote to mother and sister. - The normalcy of your life in the woodlands family lap is funny indeed when looking around here and the slight differences of surroundings and life.
Your Judge sounds OK and I hope you'll have made up your mind by the time this reaches you. As much as I like R. you will remember that I'll always tell you that he'll never make up his mind, and perhaps that's very much better for with all his charm, he is a difficult customer, certainly to be married to.
Mother had a row as you might have learned. I am not in any contact with her. That chapter is closed.
I had a very nice letter from Fabien Wrede. They are well. He lost his father who went sailing with me once. You were not along that time and I do not know if you ever met him. He was quite a fellow.
It is very hot here now and I hope that favorable breezes will carry us soon far away.
What do you say about Sicily? Some achievement and one can be altogether very optimistic although the show is far from over.
Did I tell you about here? And what is the general reaction? I hear and see so little outside my world but of the latter plenty and it's all very very interesting, I must say.
Just now I live in a stately home about which I wrote to the parents.
Let me hear from you.
As always yours fondly,
Eric