The Late King Faisal: Life, Personality

and Methods of Government

Marianne Alireza

Faisal bin ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was born in 1906 to ‘Abd al-‘Aziz ibn ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Faisal al-Saud and the lady Tarfa, daughter of one of the Al-al-Shaikh family. The al-Saud had been prominent rulers for generations in most of Arabia, making Riyadh their capital after their older city site of Dir’iyah was destroyed by Egyptian forces acting on behalf of the Turkish Ottomans in the early 1800s. Their rivals for power in Central Arabia were the al-Rashid family, and at the time Faisal was born his father ‘Abd al-‘Aziz had retaken the capital Riyadh, which at the time was little more than a fortified town, for his father, ‘Abd al-Rahman, the head of the al-Saud. Thus it was that although Faisal was ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s third son, he was the first one to be born in Riyadh; his brother Muhammad was born in the same hour on the same day from another wife of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz.

Tarfa, Faisal’s mother, died when he was very young, so that he came under the care of his maternal grandmother and her learned husband, the head of the Al-al-Shaikh family descended from the religious reformer ‘Abd al-Wahab. This grandmother gave young Faisal his daily instruction in the Qur’an and the Traditions, and he was learning his lessons by heart almost before he was fluent in reading.

During this time his father had not yet consolidated his power as ruler, and the majority of the peninsula’s people were bedouin belonging to semi-autonomous tribes who rarely gave their loyalties to anyone but their tribal sheikhs. Desert life was harsh and difficult: the camel was still the main means of transport; making a bare subsistence was an ongoing struggle, be it through lack of water, lack of food, or just travelling from point to point in Arabia’s vast deserts, or through surviving the ongoing tribal fights and feuds; life had changed little from centuries past. This was a time when it was still important to learn, as young Faisal did from older boys and companions, the skills of horsemanship (usually riding mares of the Hamdani breed), how to handle weapons, knowledge of camels, the art of falconry, how to hunt, knowing the stars and how to track by them in the desert, and who the chief clans and their sheikhs were and what relationships they had with each other – good or bad – what blood feuds were current – in addition to becoming versed in the epic stories and traditions of the Arab heritage that had been passed on through poetry by word of mouth down through the years.

As he grew up the young boy Faisal, his hair in plaited ringlets, was often at his father’s side learning the daily routine of his father’s palace and watching how his father lived and directed and executed his campaign to unify and consolidate their lands. It is an incontrovertible fact that, young as he was, Faisal gained much in knowledge and insight from this close association, assimilating the talent of the father. It wasn’t so much that young Faisal was taught by ‘Abd al-‘Aziz; it was more a matter of watching his father in his daily life, observing how he treated and handled people, how he dealt with a given situation or problem, and how he succeeded in attaining his goals. Along with ‘Abd al-‘Aziz there were many others jockeying for power and influence in and around the Arabian peninsula at the time Faisal was growing up – various other regional and tribal leaders, and also the Ottomans, the British, French, Russians, Germans, Persians, Dutch, Egyptians – so working one’s way through the workings and webs of the region’s politics required a high degree of astuteness. As regards the young Faisal, who knows what he would have become had he grown up without the experience of being close to and learning from his father?

Just prior to the onset of the First World War ‘Abd al-‘Aziz at the age of 26 captured the Eastern Province of al-Hasa from the Ottomans and was recognized by the British as the Sultan of Nejd and al-Hasa. The Hejaz was under an Ottoman Wali and a Sharifian Amir of Makkah, the al-Rashid still ruled in Jebel Shammar, and the Asir was ruled by the Idrises under Ottoman suzerainty. After the war, the British Government sent a message to ‘Abd al- ‘Aziz by courier from Bahrain on 15 May 1919 inviting him to come to England on a state visit, and ‘Abd al-‘Aziz replied that ‘while he was pleased and grateful in the extreme for the invitation from His Majesty’s Government, he regrets his inability to accept at present owing to the Sharifs’ recent incursion into the Nejd ...’; whereupon it was mutually agreed that a son of his would go instead. That ‘Abd al-‘Aziz chose the fourteen-year-old Faisal is indicative of his trust and recognition of the qualities of his son’s character and of a capability beyond his years. Faisal was even to endure a British winter on that trip; but, although he was accompanied by advisers, it seems certain that his father had every expectation that the lad would carry out his mission with dignity and pride and poise.

The following is a transcription of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s letter dated 17 Ramadan 1337 to the British political agent in Bahrain:

‘After Compliments’.

‘I have the honour to acknowledge receipt of your letter enclosing therewith a message from His Majesty’s Government, may their honour be preserved, which was sent through their Civil Commissioner in Mesopotamia stating that His Majesty expressed the wish to have a mission of one of my sons to represent me at His Majesty’s capital London as soon as possible that is to say before the stormy weather sets in in order to have the honour to pay respects to His Majesty, and also to strengthen the friendly relations and bonds existing between us and by which I feel exceedingly pleased, but as it is not concealed from you, I am unable to send the proposed mission, just at present, as I have been busy since the Sharif has come out to my territories in Nejd, and also because of his transgressive acts against my tribesmen and dependants. Insha-Allah, after I am free of my business I shall avail myself of the opportunity ... and I offer my thanks and gratitude for all that you have expressed towards me with your good conscience.

I hope you will continue your kind regard and inform me of your welfare. This is what had to be said and may you be preserved.’ ^l

Also invited on this trip was Sheikh Ahmad bin Jaber, heir to the principality of Kuwait, because he had ‘expressed a keen desire to share the privilege accorded to the sons of the chiefs of Bahrain and Nejd’, and the British Government agreed because ‘the same benefits would accrue to His Majesty’s Government if an invitation could be extended him – It is in this direction … that we must look for an improvement in Central Arabia affairs.’ ²

A Mr Humphrey Bowman was sent to accompany Prince Faisal and Sheikh Ahmad Ibn Jaber on this trip, Bowman first meeting young Faisal in Bahrain (because the port of Jeddah was still under the Hashemites) and then proceeding on a thirty-nine-year-old Arabian Gulf paddleboat called the Lawrence to Kuwait, where Sheikh Ahmad joined them. From Kuwait they sailed for Muscat, whose Sultan received them in state, and then they embarked for the longer trip to Bombay. Who among us could ever have imagined how a fourteen-year-old lad accustomed only to life in a limited area of unchanging Arabia would have been able, as young Faisal was, to take in his stride every new experience that came to him and carry it all off with the undiminished dignity that was his birthright? Mr Bowman gives the following account of the trip and of the personages in his care:

The difficulties between the representatives of Najd and Kuwait, arising partly from the bad blood then existing between their respective States, partly from the desire of each to maintain a prestige suitable to his own position, grew as the voyage down the Gulf proceeded. We did our best to treat each party with equal respect; but by the time we reached Bombay, we felt we had not succeeded altogether in bridging the gulf between them. Shaikh Ahmad of Kuwait was a man of thirty, stout, hearty, friendly and good-tempered; but he saw no reason why he should always give way before a boy of fourteen, and told me so. Shaikh Feisal of Najd, on the other hand, was shy and delicate. Of charming but retiring character, he would have made no trouble, had he not been continually reminded of his position by Ahmad Thaniyan, his cousin and guardian, who told me he had received definite instructions from the Amir Ibn Sa‘ud to see that his dignity was upheld.

...The Najdis wore the finest linen; their ‘abbayas’ of black or brown camel hair, finely woven, were richly embroidered with gold thread between the shoulders; their headdresses white, encircled by wide ‘aqals’ of gold thread. The Kuwait party were more simply dressed; the kerchief of blue or red and white, and ‘aqal’ less gorgeous.

‘The voyage to England was made in the Kigawa, an ex-German ship taken over after the war. The Shaikhs soon settled down, and comparative peace reigned between the two parties. Feisal, who suffered from malaria, and was under medical treatment from the ship’s doctor, rapidly improved in health. He and I made close friends, and I was never far from his side. Thaniyan, too, was an engaging companion. He was never tired of singing the praises of Ibn Sa‘ud, and of declaiming against the Sharif. He referred to the former as King of Najd, though at that time he had no claim to the title; and hinted darkly at the future, when his master might be the monarch of a much vaster kingdom than that he then ruled. This prophecy was fulfilled not many years later; but at that time Great Britain had put her money on the Sharif, and no one expected Ibn Sa‘ud to extend his rule to the Hejaz. We might perhaps have guessed.

A curious episode occurred in the Captain’s cabin, where he had invited both parties to tea. They showed him the swords of honour which they were bringing as presents for His Majesty King George V; those from Najd were made in Hassa, the hilts and sheaths of solid gold, inlaid with pearls and of exquisite craftsmanship; that from Kuwait good of its kind, but less ornate. The Captain, after duly admiring these gifts, remarked that the colour of the gold on the swords from Najd differed on hilt and scabbard; one light, the other darker. He asked for an explanation, which Thunaiyan readily gave: ‘You see, we have no gold in Najd, and when we wanted to make these swords we had to melt down gold coins. The hilt comes from Turkish money, but the scabbard, so much bigger, is from English sovereigns.’ The English sovereigns were part of the subsidy received from the British Government, and Ibn Sa‘ud was thus literally paying King George back in his own coin.

In London, I handed over my charges to Mr. St. John Philby … but kept in close touch with the Shaikhs and towards the end of their visit accompanied them to the Houses of Parliament. We had tea in the Members’ restaurant. Sugar was still rationed, and a meagre amount was served. ‘Do you take sugar, Amir?’ asked my friend. ‘Yes,’ said Feisal, emptying the entire contents of the bowl into his cup. The others looked glum at being deprived of their share, and only after great difficulty, and arguments in favour of His Majesty’s guests, was more procured. As we left, my friend Charles Foxcroft said: ‘Please ask the Amir if he has enjoyed his visit to the Houses of Parliament.’ ‘Indeed,’ naively replied Feisal: ‘I have enjoyed it greatly, but undoubtedly the House of Lords is the better of the two.’ Pressed for a reason, he explained: ‘For two reasons: those who sit in the House of Lords are dressed as nobles [meaning tall hat and tail-coat], while the members of the Commons have ordinary clothes. Then the roof of the Upper Chamber is of red and gold, while that of the Lower is dark and not beautiful.’ ‘One more question,’ said Foxcroft: ‘ask him what he has enjoyed most during his visit to England.’ He had been received by the King, had seen the Fleet, the Army and Air Force; had visited many places of interest. Without a moment’s hesitation, Feisal replied: Going up and down the moving staircase in Piccadilly Circus.’ It appeared that he had spent the better part of a morning in so doing. As a boy, he had our sympathy. He was only fourteen; and it was natural that he should have enjoyed, more than official visits and receptions, what even to an English boy was at that time a novel form of entertainment. Since his manhood, Prince Feisal has carried out valuable public service in Sa‘udi Arabia. He has revisited England more than once, the last time, in 1939, as his father’s representative at the Conference on Palestine.’³

Faisal had received two signed photographs during his audience with King George V, plus assurances that the political questions they discussed would be addressed, and the king’s offer of condolences on the deaths of three of his brothers and many others in the Nejd during the influenza epidemic of 1918. Before he left England Faisal was also to visit the Bank of England, to see himself in a film taken of him on a surrendered German ship, to tour the industrial plant of a Welsh steelworks (a first for him, as was almost everything else in and around London town and the rest of Britain), and to see two Gilbert and Sullivan operettas.

Before he left England on that first trip Faisal met British Major R. E. Cheesman of the Regular Army Reserve of Officers, His Britannic Majesty’s Consul in North-West Abyssinia, and later Private Secretary to the High Commissioner for Iraq from 1920 to 1923. Their first meeting was at the Canton Hotel in London, and years later they met twice more in Hofuf, where Major Cheesman, on a wildlife observation and collection expedition in Arabia, had gone to see ‘Abd al-‘Aziz. These are Major Cheesman’s accounts of those meetings:

‘I asked ‘Abd al-‘Aziz if I might pay my respects to his son Faisal whom I had met in London. He replied: ‘He is here now. Would you like to see him?’ and called ‘Taal, Faisal!’ (‘Come, Faisal’). From among the crowd of soldiers at the back of the hall a tall, slim, handsome boy arose and advanced up the middle of the room. I had met him some five years before when, as a sedate and dignified child, he had headed the mission sent to London by his father. I had gone with him to the London Zoo and had recollections of him standing among the rocks of the sea-lion house while the animals were being fed, a stately little figure with flowing robes, gold sword and gold aqal. The keeper deftly threw fish into the water and on the far side of the pool, and then, unnoticed by anyone but the biggest sea-lion, quietly dropped one at the feet of the little prince. For a moment a large face emerged from the water, followed by a dripping body which lolloped straight for the fish and the prince. For a moment the boy stood firm; then his courage deserted him and he picked up his skirts and fled for his life. Another day we went to the Natural History Museum, South Kensington, where he was particularly attracted by the large gorilla. This was the boy, now grown almost out of recognition, who advanced down the room. I went to meet him, and we shook hands in the centre. Although his carriage and bearing were now those of a man, his features retained the delicate beauty that he had as a child. As he seemed inclined to return to his corner after the greeting, I rejoined the Sultan. It would not have been considered decorous for the son to detain a guest in his father’s presence.

And on another afternoon:

A message was brought to say that Faisal ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was ready to receive me. In Arab clothes and carrying the large ivory-handled hunting-knife with many gadgets, which I had brought as a present from London, I made my way to the house. He was in small but comfortable quarters, and his reception-room was packed on both sides with people. A camel-saddle and sheepskin rugs occupied the top end of the room and against these he was reclining. Everyone got up when I entered, but I shook hands only with him, and he motioned me to the other side of the camel-saddle. He is of a serious temperament and was possibly a little shy, till I produced a smile by asking if this was the Canton Hotel. He had forgotten some of his London experiences, but others he remembered well, and he asked after the sea- lions at the Zoo. He thought he should have enjoyed his visit to England better had it been summer instead of winter, for he had found it very cold and had also been rather unwell at the time.⁴

After returning to Arabia from London Faisal was given command of a force to go to Asir where, for one thing, the al-Saud had historic claims (its eastern part had already been annexed by ‘Abd al-‘Aziz when the Turks evacuated it in 1919), and for another, Aidh chieftains, in a power struggle with the Idrisis, had requested the help of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz. He responded by sending his son Faisal, now eighteen, to the south with 5,000 men, and this young general marched his troops 700 miles in 30 days to a victory that led to the establishment of a Saudi protectorate in the Asir. Two years later the Asir as a whole became part of his father’s territories.

When Faisal and his troops returned to Riyadh the Sultan rode out to meet the victors, who, with a camel corps following the cavalry and green standards flying, entered the city to be reviewed in front of Faisal’s 83-year-old grandfather, ‘Abd al-Rahman: ‘When Faisal, carrying a spear, came galloping up to the reviewing place ... he was 18 and looking not so much tired as care-worn. He had a calm dignified expression. He dismounted and received repeated embraces from his grandfather before remounting to lead a review, which consisted of charges up and down a distance of about four hundred yards, with the shaking of spear or sword and the shouting of war cries by the Ikhwan ...’.⁵

When the Turks renounced the Caliphate at the end of February 1924, the Hashemite King Husain of the Hejaz declared himself Caliph of the entire Muslim world, causing grave concern to many within the Muslim world and outside it, and most certainly to Sultan ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, who wrote many manifestos outlining his objections and the reasons for them, and why Husain should be deposed. He had Faisal sign these, and they were sent to Muslim organizations, leaders, and societies worldwide.

In October 1924 the town of Ta’if surrendered to the forces of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz. ‘Abd al- ‘Aziz and Faisal then entered Makkah, shortly after King Husain had been pressured by the notables of Jeddah to abdicate in favour of his son Ali, who in turn had quickly retreated to Jeddah. Faisal then proceeded to Jeddah, where he commenced a year-long siege, at the end of which ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was proclaimed King of the Hejaz and Nejd.

And presently year-long siege was over, and the last remaining member of the Hashemite Sharifs of Makkah, who had ruled for 1,300 years, had left the Hejaz. The twenty-one-year-old Faisal had played his part in the success of the campaign, and once again had been close at hand to observe the ways and skills of his father. That ‘Abd al-‘Aziz in turn was sure of Faisal’s own ways and skills was shown by his appointing him Viceroy of the Hejaz and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs – he had often said, ‘I wish I had several Faisals.’⁶

In August 1926 Faisal was off to England again, leaving this time from his home port of Jeddah. During his three-week stay he participated in meetings and talks with British officials about the changes in his father’s regime; he was given a luncheon at Claridge’s Hotel; and he went to Crabbet Park Stud Farm to see the descendants of the Arab horses brought from Ha’il in Arabia to England in the 1870s by Lord Wilfrid and Lady Ann Blunt. Faisal, being an accomplished horseman, was undoubtedly interested in seeing this latter-day line of thoroughbred horses from Arabia. Lady Blunt had made detailed records on the raising and training of the colts from her new strain of Arab horses, and one of her statements concerning them was: ‘At three years old he should be trained to gallop. Then, if he be of true blood, he will not be left behind. Yalla!’⁷

The most important result of Faisal’s visit, of course, was the international recognition that followed on 20 May 1927 with the signing of the Treaty of Jeddah, in which the conquests, position and power of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz were acknowledged and his title was changed to ‘King of the Hejaz and of Nejd and Its Dependencies’. Russia was the first formally to recognize the ‘complete and absolute independence’ of his regime, followed by Britain, France, Holland, Turkey, Belgium, Switzerland, and Germany two years later, in 1929.

By 1932 all ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s wars of unification and of consolidation were over, and a royal decree was pronounced on 18 September of that year unifying all his established provinces and proclaiming the new political entity of The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Now Faisal undertook the further duties of official trips to France, the United Kingdom, Poland, Russia, and Turkey, countries that were showing interest in new business opportunities in the Kingdom; and having accomplished all these and returned to his land he was once more asked to march an army southwards into Yemen during a serious border dispute with the Imam Yahya of Yemen, who was attempting to seize the Asir. Faisal led one detachment of troops down the Red Sea coast, while his elder brother, Crown Prince Saud, led another through the desert and the southern mountains, and it was hard going for both. Faisal had to use dhows to convey some of his men, while Saud’s troops, using mechanized transport for the first time, were obliged at times to lower their machines down sheer cliffs. It took Faisal three weeks to reach and occupy the Yemen’s main port of Hodeida, where he received his father’s orders not to proceed farther. British and Italian warships had made an appearance on the scene out of concern for their interests in the Yemen, causing some complications; but Faisal was able to initiate a temporary truce that held firm until the Treaty of Ta’if between Saudi Arabia and the Yemen was signed and the Saudi forces withdrew. The border dispute was not conclusively ended, however, even with a later agreement signed in 1936, and conflicting boundary claims still continue to surface.

Another agreement signed in 1936 by Prince Faisal and the British Minister in Jeddah, Sir Reader Bullard, had to do with slavery, and years later in 1962 Faisal as Crown Prince announced a ten-point programme for the new government in which one of the edicts was the abolition of slavery in the Kingdom.

King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz received the news that oil had been discovered in the Kingdom in commercial quantities on 16 October1938, and seven months later, in May 1939, he went to Ras Tanura to open the pipeline for the first Saudi oil to leave the country. A few months before that Prince Faisal had left Saudi Arabia via Egypt for London to represent his country in an Arab-Jewish Conference sponsored by Britain to try to negotiate a settlement of the Palestine problem. His strict instruction from his father was not to give an inch, nor did he, refusing, along with his Arab colleagues from Egypt, Iraq, Transjordan and the Yemen, to sit at the same table with the Jewish delegates, thus making things difficult for the British hosts, who at every turn in the negotiations had to shuttle back and forth between the two sides. It all resulted in no decision on the fate of the British-mandated Palestinian territory; but Sir Reader Bullard, who met with Faisal later in Ta’if to talk about ‘the attempt of Iraq to secure a leading position in the Arab world at the expense of Ibn Saud’, said that Faisal’s readiness then in responding to the considerations that he put forward was perhaps due to his having gained greater self-confidence from the sessions in London. The truth is, however, that, both then as Foreign Minister and later as King, Faisal was always strong in his beliefs and opinions on Palestine, and never wavered in them – over the years he continued to proclaim his support for the Palestine cause while voicing unbending opposition to Zionism, a movement that he considered evil, and akin to communism.

The King and Prince Faisal felt sympathy with the Allied cause during the Second World War, but had no troops involved. A posture of ‘benevolent neutrality’ was maintained – trying to be fair to all; but eventually Saudi Arabia did take sides, declaring war on Germany some five months before the end of the war, though still supplying no troops. At one point during the war, when faced with the presence of Italian prisoners in their country, they saw to it that these were interned in Ta’if, out of the reach of Allied officials. As for the accredited Italian Minister and the small Italian community in the then very small town of Jeddah, the King, fearing that some folk might actively object to their presence, had them lodged on one of the quarantine islands off Jeddah, and provided them with all possible amenities for as long as they stayed. Then in 1940 Faisal came to his father to say that he had received a request from the German Minister in Iraq to open a Legation in Jeddah. Now, because wartime restrictions on shipping and commerce had been making things very difficult for the Jeddawis – markets depleted, prices high, essentials hard to come by² – Faisal had already asked the British for a loan and a guarantee that their ships would bring supplies to Arabia, and Faisal, in making this known to the German Minister, said that if the requested supplies were guaranteed by Britain no permission would be given to Germany for a Legation. If ‘Abd al-‘Aziz and Faisal had allowed their country, the protector of Islam’s holiest sites, to be diplomatically linked to Germany at the time of its war against the Allies, one wonders what effect that might have had on the millions of Muslims who were citizens or subjects of countries fighting on the Allied side.

The United States sent an invitation to King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz before the war ended inviting him to visit. This time he sent two of his sons, Prince Faisal and Prince Khalid, who with their retinue routed their voyage through Central Africa and South America, arriving in Miami, Florida in September 1943. Met by a representative of President Roosevelt, it was a whirlwind trip for them from then on: one night as guests in a private home; received by President Roosevelt and Secretary of State Cordell Hull; state visitors at Blair House (the government’s guesthouse for visiting dignitaries); a state dinner in their honour; a second meeting with President Roosevelt, who received from them a beautiful sword with jewels and gold mountings that King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz had sent him; and then off to various cities around the country. They went to New York, and to Los Angeles and San Francisco by private railcar; and tours were arranged for them: visits to the natural wonders of the Grand Canyon and Arizona’s Petrified Forest; trips to a date farm and to a renowned stud farm for Arab horses, and to factories, dams and other waterworks; and visits to motion-picture studios, and to an oil refinery, involving meetings with American oilmen and talk of building a refinery in Saudi Arabia. Then to Washington once more, meeting with Mr Stettinius (the acting Secretary of State for the US) in policy talks on the Middle East, and in discussions on ‘Lend-Lease for Saudi Arabia’, a US aid programme in which it was made legal for Saudi Arabia to be a participant after President Roosevelt’s letter to Stettinius stating that ‘the defence of Saudi Arabia is vital to the defence of the United States’. Then a few more days in the country, visiting the Naval Academy in Maryland; and thence to New York again for departure to England. In various accounts on record, the Americans who hosted, met with and accompanied them on their meetings and tours were very impressed with how quickly Prince Faisal’s English was improving and with the way he always evinced interest in all that he saw, down to the most minute details, and remarked how pleasing to them all was his quiet but attentive manner, his command of the background information and the topics discussed, his dignified bearing, and his poise.

Faisal and Khalid had hoped to follow up their stay in America with a trip to England but there was a problem in obtaining permission for the visit, and the details had not been arranged in advance, so that it took days of cables flying back and forth between England and Arabia before the issue could be settled. Upon arrival in London Prince Faisal’s party was installed at the Dorchester Hotel, and then he and his entourage were taken to visit a number of British army units. They stepped inside a British bomber and met its crew, who were preparing to leave on a mission within the hour, but were cautioned not to wish them good luck or a safe return, because, so they were told, it was considered bad luck to do so. Prince Faisal, however, was not content to let it go at that – he was concerned for them, and wanted to be assured that they would have good luck and return safely, so before leaving he asked the crew’s commander to please let him know of the outcome of that particular mission. In due time a message was delivered to him at his hotel that the aeroplane and its crew had indeed returned safe and sound, and so the good Prince Faisal could be at ease on their account. This incident gave clear evidence of Faisal’s character, his sensitivity to the well-being of others, and his quality as a caring human being.

The beautiful Arabian sword the two princes had brought to give to Winston Churchill had instead to be presented to Mrs Churchill, because the Prime Minister was away. They did see King George, however, who talked of the two wars Britain had undergone in the twentieth century, an account that the two princes could well understand and have sympathy for. They had seen the terrible destruction from the London bombings, and from witnessing this had also gained a sense of how sturdily and well the British people had coped with the wartime attacks and the consequent devastation and disruption to their lives.

On their return trip home the two royals met General de Gaulle of France, had an overnight stay with the Bey of Tunis, were in Tripoli the next night, and finally spent a few days in Egypt. Over a three-month period the Princes Faisal and Khalid had without question broadened their horizons: they had comported themselves with the aplomb of seasoned travellers, had been good emissaries for their country, and had learned much of other people and other lands. They were still quite young men; yet they had borne their responsibilities with conscientious resolution, and held their own in every situation that had been presented to them.

The ongoing Arab/Zionist differences were never-ending concerns for Faisal: so when President Franklin Roosevelt met with King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz on board a United States Navy ship in Egypt’s Great Bitter Lake and gave assurances to the Saudi monarch of friendly support on the Palestine problem, both father and son were most encouraged. After the meeting Roosevelt told his Congress, ‘Of the problems of Arabia I learned more about that whole problem, the Moslem problem, the Jewish problem, by talking with Ibn Saud for five minutes than I could have learned in exchange of two or three dozen letters.’⁸ Roosevelt’s follow-up letter, dated 5 April 1945, to King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz said the following:

Your Majesty will recall that on previous occasions I communicated to you the attitude of the American Government toward Palestine and made clear our desire that no decision be taken with respect to the basic situation in that country without full consultation with both Arabs and Jews. Your Majesty will also doubtless recall that during our recent conversation I assured you that I would take no action in my Capacity as Chief of the Executive Branch of this Government, which might prove hostile to the Arab people.

It gives me pleasure to renew to Your Majesty the assurances which you have previously received regarding the attitude of my Government and my own, as Chief Executive, with regard to the question of Palestine and to inform you that the policy of this Government in this respect is unchanged.⁹

Sadly for the world, Roosevelt died shortly thereafter.

It had been President Roosevelt who had given impetus to the idea of gathering representatives of governments around the world in an effort to promote and maintain peace on a worldwide basis; but his successor, President Harry Truman, was in office when Roosevelt’s idea finally became reality with the convening of the San Francisco Peace Conference of 1945, with delegates from fifty nations attending. The Saudi delegation consisted of HRH Prince Faisal in company with his brothers, Their Royal Highnesses Muhammad, Khalid, Fahd, Faisal’s eldest son Abdullah, and his younger brother Nawaf. The present writer’s husband, Ali Abdullah Alireza, was also a full delegate, receiving notice of his appointment in a cable from HM King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz addressed only to ‘Ali Alireza, U.S.A.’, which nonetheless by some miracle was delivered to our door in Berkeley. Ali was still at the university at the time, so that he had to take leave of absence to participate in the Conference; but I had graduated by the time we had married two years before, and we had a month-old daughter.

Soon after the Saudi delegation’s arrival in San Francisco – an arrival that caused quite a flutter and an excited stir in the newspapers and all around the Bay area – it was only natural, I guess, that Prince Faisal would one day say to Ali that he wanted to meet his American wife and come to lunch in our home. And come he did; and I shall make the account of that meeting and others throughout their stay into a story that I believe is worth telling, because it conveys something of this extraordinary man’s nature – his openness, his charming manner, his ability to relax in informal situations.

First of all, even if it was ‘only natural’ for Prince Faisal to want to come to the home of his fellow Saudi, it was certainly not a natural situation for me – it was PANIC time! The many things I had done in my young life before and after becoming a young wife had never included meeting a Royal Highness, let alone cooking a meal for one; and besides, I hadn’t a clue about the rights and wrongs of royal protocol. So the more I thought about the upcoming visit the more I wondered and worried how I should act, what I should say, what I could serve, what I should wear – finally working myself into such a dither that when the great day came and the big black limousine bearing His Royal Highness pulled up at our door and Prince Faisal and Ali started coming up the drive I left the front bedroom curtain (to which I had been glued in excruciating anticipation) to rush down the hallway, turn at the stairwell – and promptly fall flat on my face down the three steps leading to our living-room. I burst out laughing while picking myself up, and laughed uproariously all the way to the door. That fall had ‘cut me down to size’, as it were: it restored me to my real self, and it was a big lesson for me – just be yourself, silly, because that’s all you really are!

And it was a wonderful visit. Prince Faisal was gracious and friendly, natural and charming, evidenced a quick sense of humour, and knew how to warm a mother’s heart by expressing an interest in our baby. One of the first things he did was to ask for our infant daughter to be brought to him, and he bounced her on his lap, and made endearing noises at her until lunch was served. His easy nature made his presence a delight, and I was pleased that he seemed to be enjoying himself and relishing the food I had prepared (food that was as ‘Arabian’ as I had learned to produce at that point in time). He later told Ali that he wondered throughout the meal why I kept getting up from the table and going to the kitchen and doing all the serving and changing of plates, finally asking Ali, ‘Where were your servants?’ And to that I say now: ‘Ah, to have had such help in those university days!’

His Royal Highness’s English was good, and always getting better, because whenever he heard a word he didn’t know he’d take out a small notebook and jot the word down after asking its meaning; and one just knew that the next time around that word would no longer be strange to him.

In the months that followed, Prince Faisal and his royal brothers were to share with us in many activities behind the scenes of the formal diplomatic and official and social functions that kept the colourful Saudi Arabians and their entourage in the public eye. I presume that the hours we spent with them were for them much appreciated times of relaxation and a welcome kind of entertainment, well away from the limelight with all the newspaper photographers snapping their official comings and goings; and I felt so privileged to be part of this.

Ali and I planned for the entire Saudi entourage a great American picnic day at the beautiful Tilden Park in Berkeley, with all of us driven there in several limousines, shocking other picnickers into wondering who in the world we were, going to a picnic in limousines, of all things. The picnic fare we served was what people in America normally serve at a picnic – fried chicken, beef frankfurters, hamburgers, potato salad, pickles and relishes, except that because Ali had done the shopping we also had the exotic delicacies he favoured – caviare, ripe cheeses, smoked herring, cornichons, gourmet relishes, and the like – and never will I forget the sight of Prince Faisal preparing, several times over, his favourite morsel of the day, which was a frankfurter perched on a bun and topped with caviare!

After lunch it was someone’s decision to rent boats and to go rowing on Tilden Lake, despite the fact that never in their lives had any of the Saudi group ever wielded any oars on any boat. Prince Muhammad was the ‘captain’ of the boat I was in, and it caused him great glee that his unwieldy way of manipulating the oars unintentionally (or so he said!) splashed and soaked to the skin all his passengers. That divertissement produced a wave of hilarity on which we rode back to our home, where our day ended with the taking of tea, after which royals and commoners alike shared in the serving and cleaning-up chores. Good memories of good people!

Returning to serious matters, during that auspicious time in San Francisco, Prince Faisal gave an important and well-received speech to the United Nations General Assembly on the signing of the Charter, in which he said that the document:

Did not represent perfection as visualized by the small states, but nevertheless the best ever produced by people representing fifty states, many of which have suffered much in their struggle for liberty, the defence of humanity, and its liberation from slavery ... We have seen the powers of tyranny succeed in Europe, and, with God’s help, these powers have been completely defeated. We, the sons of the Near and Middle East and particularly of the Arab Nations, are filled with happiness and joy at the collapse of these powers of evil. We look forward to rejoicing at the collapse of the last stronghold of tyranny and oppression. Indeed, the whole world is indebted for its survival to the Allied Nations, which engaged themselves in war, sacrificing the best of their youth and the wealth of their resources for their security and for the security of mankind.

In such a moment as this we should not forget the resolute efforts of the late Franklin Delano Roosevelt in the cause of peace and his farsighted action in initiating this Conference ... Once and for all let us put an end to selfishness, greed, persecution, tyranny, and oppression. Let this Charter be the solid foundation upon which we shall build our new and better world.¹⁰

At the Conference’s end, Prince Faisal told Ali to forget about the university; he should instead return to Saudi Arabia and work under him in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. So we crossed the Atlantic on a blacked-out Queen Mary, a majestic ship still carrying wartime troops, our own group forming part of a much smaller civilian passenger contingent that was allowed to travel on board in wartime. The ‘Queen’ bore little resemblance to her usual luxurious accommodations, her cabins being stripped to bare necessities, and meals being somewhat limited in variety and quantity owing to wartime shortages; but the one advantage was that this great ship was so fast that she needed no protective convoy on the crossing. We arrived in Southampton, England on schedule, and then went on to London, and during our short stay in England we celebrated with the deliriously happy crowds in Trafalgar Square when the victory over Japan and the end of the war were announced in August 1945. We then proceeded to Cairo via Malta in a British military aircraft, and for the final leg King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz sent us his new DC-3 aircraft, a gift from President Roosevelt, to convey us the rest of the way. The pilot of that remarkably versatile aircraft landed us on a cleared strip of desert outside the walls of Jeddah. It was there that I disembarked on to the sand to begin a new life in Arabia, and there that Prince Faisal and his delegation on the following day re-boarded to continue on to Riyadh to report to the king.

With the Second World War now over, it soon became apparent that on the subject of the Palestine/Zionist issue President Truman of the United States was ready neither to honour nor to support the assurances given by his predecessor President Roosevelt; so Prince Faisal in 1946 went to Washington to try to persuade Truman to change his mind. In that he was unsuccessful, and, because he perceived this as failure, Faisal was stunned and hurt. He had trusted in and counted on support from the American Government; but Truman gave that support instead to the creation of a Jewish state in Palestine, exacerbating Faisal’s strong sense of betrayal through his resultant anguish at having let down his fellow Arab delegates. They had accepted him as their spokesman, and he had given assurances to them that such a letdown would not happen. Britain, of course, had by then finally given up and handed the Palestine problem to the newly formed United Nations, which, after intense lobbying by the United States, voted in 1947 to partition the land of Palestine to accommodate the creation of the state of Israel.