Letters From Baghdad

by Bell, Gertrude

  I feel at this moment that I am a little tempted of discouragement, as the monk said of St. Francis.

  I shall love to hear about your Xmas party which was just assembling when you wrote.

  It is still dreadfully cold and freezing at nights. My office is icy and I sit and work in a fur coat, which doesn't keep my feet warm.

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD, Jan. 15th, 1925.

  ...But you know, though I love hearing of it, I don't feel that I should fit into an Xmas party. I've grown too much of a recluse. After all such years and years as I have had of being alone are bound to alter one's character. Not for the better, I admit and fear.

  But there it is; if you have children and grandchildren growing up round you it is very different. I haven't had that, more's the pity...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, January 15th, 1925.

  I have had rather an unsatisfactory week, the icy cold of the reception added to the daily freezing cold of my office having been finally too much. So I stayed indoors solidly for 4 days, bored to tears, and am now practically all right. There's a great deal too much doing to have anything the matter with one at this moment...

  The Frontier Commission arrives to-morrow...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, Jan. 21st, 1925.

  This is going to be a very scrappy letter I fear, for I have too much to say and too little time to say it in. It's the Commission which is running us all to death. They arrived on Friday...

  On Saturday Sir Henry sent for me, he sent me straight up to the King. I found H.M. in the charming domed room he uses as an office, sitting in full Arab dress before a blazing fire (it's still very cold). I gave my message to which he listened attentively...

  As I motored back I found the Kotah bridge cut and stood in the crowd to watch the big launch pass up with Sir Henry and the Commission...

  I dined at the Residency — a biggish party and a tail — all English. The Dobbses are being admirable, they are always cheerful and apparently amused, and all their arrangements go beautifully. They had an enormous reception on Saturday afternoon for the Bagdadis to meet the Commission ...

  January 22nd We were 58 at dinner last night! All the Iraqis appeared without a fez, the first time I had ever seen many of them bareheaded. It was a protest against the Turkish head dress — I wonder if they now intend to abandon it altogether.

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD, Jan. 28th, 1925.

  ...We are still having an amazing bout of cold weather. It has frozen almost every night since Xmas and for the last three nights the temp. has been down to 18. By day it's little above freezing point with an excruciating north wind which cuts you like a knife. The sheep are dying like flies, the benyon trees and sweet limes are all killed (I shan't wear mourning for the latter) and all the young orange trees are dead. The people suffer horribly; the price of food has doubled and trebled, and they are not clad or lodged in a manner to resist cold. Lots of people in the desert and the villages have died. In the north we hear that there is deep snow. They say there has not been such prolonged cold for 40 of 50 years. Anyhow, I hope it won't happen again in my time for it is extremely disagreeable even if it is salutary for those who have furs and fires like me. I live in a fur coat except when I'm sitting before the fire in my sitting room. It's rare in this country to be longing for a little sun and warmth.

  We are living through a very agitating time, feeling all of us that our destinies are in the melting pot. If good comes out of the Frontier Commission it will be mainly due to Sir Henry's extraordinarily tactful handling and the charming courtesy with which he and Esme treated them. ...

  The Bagdadis played up splendidly. On Thursday there was a great Boy Scout function to which I went. We were in the teeth of an almost unendurable north wind. There were 1500 Iraqi Scouts and all the Scout Masters were Iraqis. It was in the Sarai, the old Turkish military head- quarters. All the balconies were crowded with people and the great open square too — there were some 5000 spectators. Besides the ordinary Scout exercises and tent pitchings — which they did extremely well — they took the opportunity of introducing a little nationalist propaganda. They made the Iraq flag in living boys dressed in the national colours, and they drew in chalk over the square a huge map of the Iraq, with frontiers formed by a line of boys — stretching north, I need not say, far beyond the present boundary! — and boys with Iraq flags indicating the three towns, Basrah, Bagdad and Mosul.

  At the end they hoisted the Iraq flag on a tall standard. It was wonderfully moving. Some boys ran forward with the flag staff and set it up; then all the boys who carried the various scout flags ran up and formed a circle round it, while the other boys crowded in in a huge semi-circle, with the spectators crowding in behind them. When the chief Scout Master broke the flag a huge roar went up from the boys and the crowd and after it had died down the Scout Master cried out "Three cheers for King Faisal the First!" Even out of doors they made a great sound...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD Feb. 4th 1925.

  It is a trifle less cold. It no longer freezes at night and the sun is hot in the middle of the day, but the wind is still bitter. I walked out this afternoon, fetched a round outside the town and finally called on my dear Mistress of the Ceremonies to discuss a mourning party which the Queen is to give. It appears that you ought to be given the opportunity to express your sympathy and ask how she is. As soon as the French nuns have made her a plain white gown — white is Hijazi mourning — we're to issue the invitations.

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD Feb. 11th 1925.

  This isn't going to be a very bright letter for I am suffering under the shock of a domestic tragedy with which I feel sure you will sympathise- the death of my darling little spaniel, Peter, and of his mother, Sally, who was Ken's dog. I don't know which of them I loved most, for Sally was with me all the summer while Ken was on leave. But I shall now miss Peter most — he was always with us, in the office and everywhere, and he adored me, and I him. Sally had a cold a few days ago and as Ken was going out shooting with the King I offered to take her — we neither of us, nor the vet, had any idea that it was distemper which it really was, the very worst kind that ends in pneumonia. Peter caught it and died after agonies of stifled breathing at 4 a.m. this morning — I had been up with him all night — and Sally died after the same agonies at 5 p.m. Ken and I were both with her. So you will understand that I am rather shattered. My whole household was affected to tears — they all loved them. One should not make trouble for oneself by unnecessary affections, should one, but without affections what would life be? It is difficult to know where to draw the line.

  Well, that's that. They are both buried in my garden...

  I hope you are feeling a sense of relief at getting out of the rush. Your time on the sea will be very good for you, and how nice it will be seeing Elsa — my dear love to her. Tell her about Sally and Peter; she will be sorry for me, I know.

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD Feb. 18th, 1925.

  Thank you so much for the Cross Puzzle book. I have cracked my brain over it a little, with much amusement, and I'm going to bring it out on some suitable occasion at my parties...

  We have had very heavy rain and on Friday afternoon I came home to find my sitting room more like a shower bath than anything else. You who live in solid houses don't know what the vicissitudes of the weather really mean. However, the sun came out on Saturday and the world has dried up wonderfully fast. It is beginning to feel like spring though it is still very cold at night...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD Feb. 18th 1925.

  ...It did rain! On Friday my roof, having been opened up by the frosts, gave up the game and I came home after lunch to find my sitting room more like a shower bath than anything else. However, fortunately the rain ceased about 5 and next day there was sun in which to dry the carpets. The world has dried up wonderfully fast...

  I have been feeling dreadfully mopish about my poor little dogs, specially
Peter, because I miss him dancing round me all day. Everyone has been most kind and sympathetic...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, Feb. 25th, 1925.

  ...Even though I have been a govt. servant for 9 years I continue to be disappointed by the slowness with which official wheels grind...

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD, Feb. 25th, 1925.

  ...I went to the Palace and first of all we looked at the children- Ghazi in a fearful jig because he had his first lesson in developing photographs in the developing box I had given him. He really is a nice little boy. He rushed and brought me a chair and said in English "Please sit down." The two girls were having a music lesson. And then we went to see Ghazi having a writing lesson in his own little house. He is making a garden, digging and planting in it himself and much pleased with it. Altogether I had a very pleasant impression...

  Sunday was a delicious spring day. We lunched in the sun on the river bank. The peasants were all planting their summer vegetables. The whole family turns out for the day; the babies lie in the furrows and the dogs sit by. [A dinner followed by Bridge.] I introduced the Cross Puzzle book and Iltyd became so wrapped in it that he could scarcely remember what was trumps. It is very entertaining.

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, March 4th, 1925.

  I got in from Ur at 6 a.m. this morning and not having slept in the train, I slept all this afternoon till 6...

  Our excavations this year, without being so sensationally exciting as they were last year, have been extremely good and there were some wonderful objects to divide. The division was rather difficult but I think J.M. and I were very fair and reasonable — I hope Mr. Woolley thinks the same.

  I do miss my Peter so. I longed for his little cheerful presence when I went to Ur. He would have loved that boring journey — so many dogs to look at out of the window...

  H.M.G. has appointed the Financial Commission to enquire into the finance of Iraq — Hilton Young and Mr. Vernon (the latter financial adviser to the Col. Office). They arrive on March 15th. Excellent, we think, and it really looks like business. Our spirits are all going up.

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD, March 4th, 1925.

  ...It has been a good season, though not so sensational as last year, but still there were some wonderful finds, rather more difficult than usual to divide. This year I left the great piece to them — it is a huge stele with amazingly interesting reliefs, but as it was all in fragments and needed a great deal of careful reconstruction, which we can't do here, I thought it was in the interests of science to let it go to some big museum — the British Museum or Pennsylvania — where it can be properly treated...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, March 11th, 1925.

  ...Upon my soul I almost wish there weren't a desert route — it brings silly females, all with introductions to me...

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD, March 12th, 1925.

  ...I spent Sunday morning rearranging the Museum in a horrible dust storm which prevented J.M. and me from making a brief archaeological expedition by train that night. It was lucky we decided not to go as the train was held up by floods which wrecked the line and it never got anywhere...

  Esme leaves next week to my great regret — she does make such a difference. We all love her. Sir Henry and she and I went for a little walk yesterday along the river bank where it was not too muddy, and it was so nice. It's a great pity that Esme won't be here to entertain the secretaries of state.

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, March 18th, 1925.

  ...Hilton Young has come bringing me a letter from Moll. He was to have dined with me the day after his arrival, but the High Commissioner pinched him. He is coming next Sunday. Everyone likes him, I hear, but he is gravelled to invent any way to make our budget balance for the next few years...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, March 25th, 1925.

  Uncle Lyulph's death came in Reuters yesterday — I feel very sad about it. It makes a great hole in the family, doesn't it...[This was Lord Sheffield.]

  J.M. and I had a pleasant night at Kish, did our work and got safely back without motor accidents, contrary to our habit. The digging this year has been rather disappointing — -nothing but grave finds, good of their kind but not specially important. One gets blasée about small Sumerian objects which were once so exciting and I do wish the ancients hadn't used so many copper pins. They are very dull in a museum. I spent most of Sunday morning arranging them, with Madame La Caze to help me...

  On Sunday afternoon Ken and I took Hilton Young out to some marshes near the Baquba road to see birds. That was very nice. The birds played up and I brought out tea — partly in your thermos which is still one of the mainstays of existence — and Hilton Young was delighted and delightful.

  Chiefly we are busy preparing for the Secretaries of State who arrive to-morrow. There are to be no end of functions for them.

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD, March 25th, 1925.

  ...The Secretaries of State arrive to-morrow and we seem to spend our time in the office making arrangements for their parties and sightseeings. I hope they will be as nice as Mr. Hilton Young, who is charming. We all loved him. Tell Molly...

  J.M. and I had a pleasant night at Kish. The finds aren't very good, at least, they are good of their kind but it's rather a boring kind, nothing of any great importance. I have a feeling that Kish is not going to yield much and I am sorry for the excavator, Mr. Mackay, who is looking very well and carefully without much to reward him...

  Yes, I'm sure the snapdragons will be nice [at Rounton] if the peacocks don't sit on them.

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, April 1st, 1925.

  I feel that I have been addressing myself to the winds and waves for a long time; I wonder when I shall get your first letter from Australia.

  We have been remarkably busy with secretaries of state. They arrived last Thursday and I met them at lunch on Friday and carried off Mr. Amery in the afternoon to look at birds...They are all very sympathetic and I do like Sir John Shuckburgh so much...

  On Monday we began again with an official dinner at the Residency to meet the Secretaries of State and the Cabinet...And on Tuesday everyone flew away to Mosul except Sir John who has stayed to study our difficulties and see what he can do to help...

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD, April 1st, 1925.

  ...The description of Uncle Lyulph's funeral was so touching and beautiful. I can't yet picture the difference that his death makes in the family — I did care for him so much.

  I have had rather a rushing week. The Ministerial party came back from their northern tour on Saturday. The Prime Minister gave an official dinner for them that night. I had a dinner for Sir John Shuckburgh on Sunday and another for Mr. Amery on Monday...

  To-morrow we go off for a three days' Easter jaunt, Ken and Lionel and I, to Ukhaidhir. J.M. was to have come but can't get away. Mr. Cooke is coming in his place. I haven't been to Ukhaidhir since 1911.

  The Secretaries of State flew down to Basrah to-day. I feel sure that their visit has been very useful and advantageous, but I shan't be sorry to relapse into a more humdrum existence when they go next week... Naturally, I have had nothing to do with their conferences; I have only heard the hopes and fears which they evoked in subsequent echoes.

  There was a terrific dust storm last week after which the temperature fell to lower than it should normally be and we all shivered.

  What a tale about Father's nearly missing his boat at Ceylon! Haven't heard from him yet from Australia — it's a terrific way off, isn't it.

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, April 8th, 1925.

  I seem to be much busier outside the office than in it and I'm going to write to you this morning while I'm waiting for more files to turn up. The Secretaries of State were to have come back from their northern flights last Friday, but the whole country was wrapped in the most terrific dust stormlike a yellow London fog, we worked in the morning by electric light — and the
y were delayed in Kirkuk...

  Mr. Amery's knowledge is encyclopaedic — he acquires it with extraordinary speed and never forgets what he has once acquired. He is not the least a pedant; what he knows, he knows quite naturally and simply...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, April 15th, 1925.

  [The "Easter jaunt" to Ukhaidir to which she had been looking forward.]

  It made me feel rather ghostlike to be in these places again, with such years between, and I was glad I wasn't there alone. Next day we motored back to Bagdad, lunching on the bank of the Euphrates under willow trees.

  The Secretaries of State also returned from Bastah that day but I did not see them on Sunday, which I spent partly at the Museum in the morning and riding after tea, with the usual Bridge party at night.

  Yesterday morning the Secretaries of State flew away in clouds of dust and glory and we all went down to the aerodrome to bid them farewell. And then, though relieved, we felt a little flat! But there's no doubt that their visit has done good. I love Sir John and Mr. Amery. The latter distinguished himself by conversing in Turkish which he hadn't done since 1898

  To F.B.

  BAGDAD, April 16th, 1925.

  The Secretaries of State left on Tuesday. I went with Mr. Amery to the Museum on Monday morning and on the way back he said very satisfactory things. He said he had been much struck by the admirable relations between the British officials and the Arabs, and thought the former had done wonderful work and that the whole administration was much better than he expected. I was very glad because I felt that he was giving praise where it was due...

  I really am surprised that The Verge was a success on the stage — I should have thought it would have been too bewildering...

  To H.B.

  BAGDAD, April 22, 1925.

  I am very much interested by your accounts of the fifth continent and its inhabitants, but what you say confirms my feeling that I should never want to go there or to see them at home. But I like hearing about them from you. It must be horrid to have to cook one's own dinner always — it would be horrider to eat always the one I should cook, I'm bound to say.