To her family.
BAGDAD, June 14, 1918.
I've now got a Persian cook, who, besides being able to cook (an art none of my former cooks have possessed), knows no Arabic, so I'm forced to do my housekeeping in Persian, which amuses me — doubtless amuses the cook also at times. The nuns have made me some muslin gowns which are really quite nice — also cheap. The 'essayages' are not like any other dressmaking I've ever known. I go in after riding before breakfast and stand in practically nothing but breeches and boots (for it's hot) while the Mother Superior and the darling dressmaking sister, Soeur Renée, hover round ecstatically and pin on bits of muslin. At our elbows a native lay sister bearing cups of coffee. We pause often while the Mother Superior and Soeur Renée discuss gravely what really is the fashion. The result is quite satisfactory. Soeur Renée isn't a Frenchwoman for nothing
My roses are flowering anew, rather dusty in the face, poor little things, but very sweet.
To H.B.
BAGDAD, July 5th, 1918.
...Two splendid long ones from you. And the first and most interesting thing in them is your suggestion that you might come here next spring. I can't imagine greater pleasure than showing you this world of mine. I hate your not knowing what has meant so much to Me.
I'm going to Persia on Tuesday night. I really feel as if a judgment ought to fall on me for doing anything so nice. It has been very hot this week. The temp. danced up one day to 118 and I can't keep my office under 100. I'm still very well, but I don't feel as if I could bear 3 uninterrupted months of it.
(The holiday in Persia was all that she had meant it to be. She writes from camp on her way to Kirmanshah.]
I jumped up at dawn and climbed to the top of the hills, 2,300 feet above the camp — a tough scramble up limestone rocks. But it was magnificent. The gentians and tulips were seeding — I send you some tulip seed which will you kindly give Hanagan — but the dianthus was still out, and gorgeous thistles and pediculatis — all the great garden of mountains. I came in at 10 to breakfast, a little footsore — I haven't walked for 4 years — but feeling like a new-born creature. It's about 100 in the tents at noon, but one doesn't feel it because there's a cool wind. The country is almost uninhabited here. I met a few woodcutters on the lower slopes this morning, with whom I stopped and talked, but from the top you can see no sign of human habitation — just mountain stillness. To-morrow I go on to Kitmanshah.
It's worthwhile to sit 2 years in an office in Mesop. in order to do this at the end with such enjoyment!
To H.B.
KERMANSHAH, July 13th, 1918.
It's a desert, this country; there's little difference between Persia and Mesopotamia, except that in the one the wilderness is set upright and in the other it's laid flat. We ran up 1,000 feet between steep and narrow mountain slopes. The road is a switchback, up and down over low passes, snow-blocked in winter. It's nothing short of a miracle that we can put it to use.
[She then goes to Gulahek, full of memories of her youth — and so back to Bagdad.]
To F.B.
BAGDAD, August 30th, 1918.
if Sir Percy had been here this winter I think they could have done quite well without me, but the moment I got back Capt. Wilson told me the staggering news that he had been appointed to Teheran. But his absence makes me feel that it wouldn't have been right for me to have been away this winter. But it is a disappointment, isn't it! I was looking forward so much to having him here after all these months. However, Capt. Wilson and I are excellent colleagues and the best of friends and I know I can do a good deal to help him by seeing people and being ready to sit and talk as much as they want. It will probably be my main job. But first I'm going to compile an Intelligence book on Persia, for which I've collected materials while I have been away, and I rather think I can make a passable bit of work. It's the sort of thing I love doing. I've rather lost my heart to Kurdistan, country and people. My Persian was enough to carry me through most interesting conversations — Persian is extraordinarily easy, you know, and I learnt more in that 3 weeks of riding through the country than I could have learnt in months of motoring. But it was hard work — unspeakably bad tracks and very hot in the middle of the day. There were many moments of deadly weariness which are not mentioned in my diary but remain in my memory. Still, I have come back extremely fit. We are now at what I think almost the worst moment of Bagdad, the stuffy autumn heat, temp. 104, and absolutely still and airless.
The two months in Persia have made me much more efficient — that's rather satisfactory. I have got roughly the hang of things there and can judge much better how they affect us here. Quite apart from the enjoyableness, it has been well worth doing.
To F.B.
BAGDAD, September 5th, 1918.
Why, yes, of course I wrote all the Arab of Mesopotamia. I've loved the reviews which speak of the praftical men who were the anonymous authors, etc. It's fun being practical men, isn't it. Oh, I do so agree with you as to the great luck of having something to do during the war — no matter if it's much too much to do. It would be far greater suffering to stand outside it all. Father sends me the most delightful accounts of the Geographical Society meeting and dinner. How glad I am that it was he not I — firstly because he did it much better than I should have done it, thereby keeping up the credit of the family, and secondly because he liked it much better. I really should have been ashamed to receive that medal; it's far too great an honour.
I've had an uneventful week, but a busy one. Lots of people coming in to see me, and then lots of strings to pick up, and a report to write covering the whole time of my absence — fortunately not many things had happened — and then the Persian Intelligence book which is fairly under way. I've been making a Persian tribal map to-day and wishing I knew as much about Persian tribes as I do about Arab. Sir Percy goes to Teheran in 3 days' time.
To F.B.
BAGDAD, September 19th, 1918.
I must announce the good arrival of some gloves and a felt hat, just what I wanted, and General Cobbe tells me that Richard is bringing me some clothes, which is splendid. Woad is the only suitable wear at present. It's infernally hot, 113 and absolutely airless. I don't think I've ever felt the climate more. Also I've had a cold and though I'm taking every means to be better until the weather changes I don't look forward to much vigour. At sunset the dust and mist lie in thick bars over the world and you gasp for breath. When this reaches you I shall probably be shivering, so I write untrammelled — two l's? — by any fear of causing you anxiety.
We have had a tremendous function this week — a Durbar of Sheikhs held by the C. in C. It really was rather wonderful. We had all the leading men of the country, sheikhs and tribal saiyids, from Samawah to Tikrit — the Chief had seen the Basrah people there the week before. There were about 80 of them, only the very biggest from each district had been selected. The Durbar was held in the public gardens and all the notables of Bagdad attended to see it, an immense concourse. It was terrifically hot, but I fortunately was in the shade on the platform, with Consuls and distinguished foreigners, French and American, who happened to be here. At 5 o'clock the C. in C. came up in procession through the garden with all his Major-Generals behind him, very splendid it looked. The sheikhs filed past him by districts, each group introduced by its Political Officer and the Chief.
To H.B.
BAGDAD, November 28th, 1918.
I am having by far the most interesting time of my life and thank Heaven I am now well and can grapple with it adequately. The Franco-British Declaration has thrown the whole town into a ferment. It doesn't happen often that people are told that their future as a State is in their hands and asked what they would like. They are all talking and mercifully they all come in to me with the greatest eagerness to discuss what they think. On two points they are practically all agreed, they want us to control their affairs and they want Sir Percy as High Commissioner. Beyond that all is divergence. Most of the town people want an Arab Amir but the
y can't fix upon the individual. My belief is (but I don't yet know) that the tribal people in the rural districts will not want any Amir so long as they can have Sir Percy — he has an immense name among them — and personally I think that would be best. It's an immense business setting up a court and a power. The whole situation requires very delicate handling. We can't be too wary at this moment when the public mind is so fluid that anything serves to divert it in one direction or another. I always speak quite frankly and they believe me, I think. They know I have their interests more deeply at heart than anything else and they trust me in the same sort of way that they trust Sir Percy.
I'm so thankful to be here at this time, whatever happens I must remain till Sir Percy is brought back. We've telegraphed very fully, A. T. Wilson and I, and I think we have given a just view of the state of things...
...I'm quite sure that I prefer Generals to Bps. Two days later I went with Generals Lubbock and Stuart Wortley to Baqubah to see the Nestorian refugees in camp. We have 80,000 of them; they tramped down from Urumiah to escape from the Turks. The camp is wonderful — like a huge town. Then I walked with my generals in the orange gardens on the other bank, made friends with one of the proprietors and came away laden with oranges. Baqubah oranges are certainly the most beautiful in the world. The gardens are an amazing sight now — 5 and 6 huge yellow globes hanging clustered on & boughs — all the groves aglow with them.
To H.B.
BAGDAD, December 6th, 19 18.
We have had a day's rain this week and the world is pretty muddy. Luckily my first Tuesday party took place the day before. I had about 50 ladies, mostly Moslems — they flock now, and I shall get them all in time. We had tea in the garden and sat talking for nearly 2 hours most cheerfully. I talk Arabic perhaps not quite as well as French, but nearly. The younger men are trooping in now of a morning to give me their views on the political future.
A. T. Wilson and I spend a considerable part of our time laying down acceptable frontiers — by request. It's an amusing game when you know the country intimately, as I do, thank goodness, almost all of it. Was ever anything more fortunate than that I should have criss-crossed it in very nearly every direction.
To H.B.
BAGDAD, December 27th, 19 18.
...About Arab rule. In Mesopotamia they want us and no one else, because they know we'll govern in accordance with the custom of the country. They realise that an Arab Amir is impossible because, though they like the idea in theory, in practice they could never agree as to the individual...
To F.B.
BAGDAD, January 3rd, 1919.
On the chance of an outgoing boat I make haste to write you and wish all yours a good new year...
But more interesting was a lecture given one afternoon last week by Prof. Margoliouth. He lectured for 50 minutes by the clock on the ancient splendours of Bagdad in classical Arabic and without a note. It is the talk of the town. It's generally admitted that he knows more of Arabic language and history than any Arab here...
To H.B.
BAGDAD, January 10th, 1919.
We have been having rather a difficult time here. The East is inclined to lose its head over the promise of settling for itself what is to become of it. It can't settle for itself really — we out here know that very well, because it might hit on something that certainly wouldn't simplify state government and that we can't allow in the interests of universal peace. But it is not going to be an easy job to hold the balance straight. I'm thinking of leaving in the last week of February, something like that.
Meantime I'm hard at work at the log book of Iraq Personalities, a gigantic task. I think I shall get it into shape by the end of this month. Further I'm seeing a great many people and incidentally a good many of the women. We have got a lady doctor. I'm taking her to see some of my friends and arranged a series of lectures for her in the home of a Pasha's wife. The ladies seem to be very keen about the classes.
The last day or two I've had a feverish cold — it is curious how everything turns to fever and knocks you out.
To H.B.
BAGDAD, January 17th, 1919.
I was deeply grieved about Beatrice [Chamberlain]; I've written to Mr. Austen. There were few people who were her equal in fair sanity and I realise now how much I always counted on her friendship. It's Possible that I may come home a little earlier. A. T. Wilson shows signs of wanting someone at home who can help to give a guiding hand, if that's possible, keep him closely informed of how things are shaping and at the same time represent the experience we have gathered here. I really don't mind one way or the other myself. I should like to be back here in October, but we'll see what happens. I think on the whole I'm more useful here than in England, but just at this moment I might be able to help to keep things straight — if they'll let me...We are having rather a windy time over self-determination. I'll tell you some day. I wish very much that Sir Percy were here...
I flew with a young man last week — literally not figuratively. We flew for about three-quarters of an hour up and over the Tigris. For the first quarter of an hour I thought it the most alarming thing I had ever done and eagerly wished that that good young man would return to the ground. It was a windy day, the aeroplane wobbled a good deal. However, I presently became accustomed to it and was much interested and excited. I shall go up whenever I have an opportunity so as to grow quite used to it.
To F.B.
January 25th, 1919.
...The best thing this week was a lecture of Prof. Margoliouths on Abbassid history. I asked him the other day what he thought of the Bagdadis, to which he replied, "You will I trust forgive me for quoting a sentence of the Prophet's of which I am often reminded by the people of Bagdad: seek the advice of women in order to do the contrary."
To F.B.
January 31st, 1919.
Col. Wilson telegraphed home this week saying he would like to send me to England more or less as his liaison officer while so much is under discussion there. My own view is that he will get no answer.
If we get a permanent form of Government established here by this time next year I think we shall be lucky... It is an immense job, the conversion of a military organisation into a civil administration, all the technical part of it is so overwhelming, forts, telephones, medical and sanitary organisation, etc.; and it means that you cannot demobilise wholesale as if you did there would be a sudden breakdown in all the functions of Government. I haven't anything to do with these things, but I can see how intricate they are...
I have planted my garden most beautifully with hedges of chrysanthemums — it ought to be a sight next Autumn ...I'm sorry I shall not see the country here this Spring it will be wonderful after such a winter of rain.
But I shall see you and I'm immensely looking forward to it. I can't quite believe yet that in 6 weeks or so I shall be in England. I expect I shall be pretty busy, you know. Anyhow I think it will be good for me to go away for a bit. I feel I've become very provincial. How can one help it when one's whole time and thoughts are given to one's province? But it is not a good plan to get quite out of touch. One is more useful here for knowing what the pulse is like at home. I would like to do some propaganda for my province — lectures perhaps, though my mind rather shrinks from the idea at this moment. The Geog. Soc. would perhaps be a good platform but it will probably be too late in the year for them — they don't, if I remember, have meetings after Easter. Heaven knows I shan't regret it personally; it's only that I want to advertise my province, you understand.
And do you know what I look forward to very much? A leg of mutton! That's not poetic, is it, but you should see and try to eat the meat I live on. I can't think what part of an animal it grows on. I must learn to cook mutton chops while I'm at home — and then see if I can't get them here.
[She goes to the Conference in Paris.]
To H.B.
HOTEL MAJESTIC, PARIS, March 7th, 1919.
You must have been surprised at not hearing from me before, but
I've dropped into a world so amazing that up to now I've done nothing but gape at it without being able to put a word on to paper. Our Eastern affairs are complex beyond all words, and until I came there was no one to get the Mesopotamian side of the question at first hand. The magnates have been extremely kind... They have all urged me to stay and I think for the moment that's my business. I'm filling up the time by getting in touch with the French and finding out for myself what their views are...I would love above everything to come motoring with you but it depends on how busy I am seeing French people. If I can keep a day or two clear of course I'll come and in any case I'll manage to come to Boulogne and see you for an hour or two there. I hope you'll think I'm right to stay. I can't do anything else.
Letters From Baghdad Page 48