BAGHDAD, 20 April 2003 — In the shadows of the charred reading room, Shakur Khozai scooped up a handful of ash, then shuddered and tossed it to the ground. As director of Iraq’s national library, he has spent years caring for the nation’s collection of rare books and archives.

Now, there is little left but soot and broken glass. Many of the one million tomes were lost Monday when an Iraqi mob gutted and set fire to the library, a five-story repository of irreplaceable ancient books, maps and handwritten archives.

“They burned the history of this country,” Khozai said. “Now we are standing here beginning from zero. Our memory is destroyed.’’

As the residents of this rattled city venture slowly forth to take stock of the war’s wastes, one thing has become tragically clear: many of Iraq’s most precious cultural institutions are now a thing of memory. After surviving the US-led bombing attacks, many of the nation’s historical centerpieces have been lost to riots and rage.

There were the ancient Qur’ans, Islamic holy texts that had previously withstood the sacking of the Mongols, only to be burned this week. The national museum, with its colossal sculptures and the first known calendar — pillaged.

Musical instruments — snatched from the conservatory. Universities — sacked. Government archives — missing or burned. Many Iraqis blame the United States for failing to protect their national treasures from the mobs that stormed through Baghdad’s cultural institutions after the city fell and the American military failed to immediately halt the looting.

“This is the freedom they promised us?” asked Acaeel Husan, a 37-year-old volunteer at the library.

Some blamed the looting on pent-up rage after decades of dictatorial rule by Saddam Hussein.

“They do these things without thinking because they hated the government,’’ said Ehmad Al-Aziz, 49, a watchman at the national theater, which was looted. “They had guns. What could I do?”

These are twilight times in Baghdad, uncertain days somewhere between war and peace. Even as bullets continue to crackle in the streets and fires cloud the horizon, many trickle out of their homes, and shops re-open. Slowly, thoughts are turning to the project of rebuilding the nation.

But with most cultural institutions destroyed, intellectuals and artists fear the nation has been robbed of its soul.

“How can we build a new Iraq after this?” said librarian Saib Al Suhaib. “We can buy computers, we can make new buildings. But we can’t buy a museum, or these books, or history.”

On the ground floor of the national library in downtown Baghdad, piles of embers still sent an eerie heat into the darkness Thursday. The remnants of a staircase rose precariously from the old stone floors. Library workers trailed mournfully among the piles of soot, their faces smudged.

Some point out that the oil ministry building was spared while museums and hospitals were sacked. Baghdad University has been turned into a US military compound — Iraqi civilians aren’t allowed to enter.

“We need freedom, yes, but not this freedom,” said Abdul Rahmad Hamed, who teaches history at Baghdad University. “This is destruction, and I feel awful for my people.”

Until the war, there stood on the banks of the Tigris River a cool stone haven for artists and intellectuals. Amal Khudeiri, 64, spent a decade turning the old house into a shaded complex of artists’ studios and salons. Khudeiri’s aim was to showcase and revive her nation’s handicrafts.

She hosted art exhibitions and poetry nights. Hibiscus and violets bloomed in the garden. Out back, beyond the ornate doors, the river stretched smooth and long under the desert sky.

This week, coarse dust streams in the shattered windows. The floors are a mess of oil paint tubes, broken Beethoven records and shredded books. What they couldn’t cart off, they smashed.

When Khudeiri returned to the complex, she fell into a teary rage. “What have I done?” she cried. “I am not the government. I am not the party.”

The national theater is also a jumble of broken wood, smashed glass and sandbags. Upturned tables cover the missing lobby windows to prevent more damage. Overhead, the marquee still splashes an advertisement for a play called “The Thieves.”

“This theater is a part of me,’’ said Aziz, the watchman. The mobs came at night, he said, after the US forces stormed the city.

At the national music school, three teachers sought to stand their ground, but in the end, were forced to flee.

“We were afraid,” said Abu Muhamad, 48, who taught psychology and music. “We realized we couldn’t protect the building.”

In the courtyard, sheet music lies crumbled in the fountain. A tangled mess of keys is all that is left of a piano. Muhamad walks through the rooms in a daze. At first he is reluctant to talk; he says he is afraid Saddam will return. But then he turns defiant.

“I don’t care,” he says. “In a way I’m not sorry. You know why? We wanted freedom; we wanted to breathe fresh air. Saddam Hussein destroyed us.”

In a city where many institutional records have been burned or destroyed, it could take months for an in-depth accounting of what has been stolen and lost.

On Thursday, the United States announced it has sent federal investigators to Iraq to help find those responsible for looting and to locate stolen items.

As many as 25 FBI agents and Justice Department investigators will participate in the probe, which will include cooperating with Interpol to track artifacts on both the open and black markets.