A VISIT TO BAHJÍ
BY NANCY BOWDITCH
BETWEEN the sand dunes and the sea runs a road, wave-washed and uncertain, which leads from Haifa to the ancient city of ‘Akká in Palestine. Here Richard the Lion Hearted fought across the mighty ramparts, against whose sides the persistent onslaught of the sea still makes war. Near here Napoleon laid siege from an artificial hill, which he constructed in order to reach over the double walls of the city. There still remains the moat through which the strength of the sea used to be turned in times of war. It is outside of the walls of this town that “The Most Great Prison” stands, bleak and forbidding, and in this place Bahá’u’lláh and His family and followers were imprisoned. One can see the windows from which He gazed at the first pilgrims, who could only look at Him from a distance and be content to return many miles on foot with that precious memory. In a courtyard near the prison building is the long staircase up the outside of the house which leads to some rooms where the family were permitted to move later. Here came the first European visitors to see ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, and it was here that “Some Answered Questions” was written. There is another house in ‘Akká where they were moved later, but this is a different story from the one I want to tell, for mine deals with the aftermath of those terrible and uncomfortable years, and it is with great comfort and joy that we can now turn toward Bahjí.
After driving through. the country outside of ‘Akká, and passing under an old arch of a Roman Aqueduct and through a forest of eucalyptus trees, we at last arrive at the place where Bahá’u’lláh spent His last and happiest days. On the left as we approach is a walled-in area with cypress peering over the top, and a cluster of old farm houses; on the right a lovely sweep of cultivated fields and a distant range of mountains. At this point the old mansion at Bahjí looms into view. Indeed it comes suddenly like opening one’s eyes on a ship at sea which one has not seen approaching. It is a big white house with an arched arcaded veranda around the second floor. All this is seen over the top of a high stone wall, vine covered at the base. Into this wall is set a small arch of plain white which frames the entrance door, a big green door, which seems to have been built to withstand any intrusion into this abode. But door and walls seem to cry “welcome” as the smiling Turkish Bahá’í servant swings open the gate and greets one with the “Greatest Name.” Shoghi Effendi has so carefully renovated this old place that he has not erased the air of ancient mystery and romance. So much has stirred within these walls that will never be forgotten.
But now we are eager to enter. Leaving
the lovely yard filled with lemon trees we
pass through another green door with a
knocker, which the servant unlocks for us.
We enter and mount a long closed-in marble
staircase to the second floor and turn to the
right through a small hall. Passing through
gold and blue draped damask curtains we
enter the central room of the house. This
is about twenty feet wide and thirty-one
feet long. The ceiling is supported by eight
white marble columns, and roofed with deep
blue. Around the central point is a skylight
letting in a soft light on the white
marble floor and the elaborately stenciled
walls. In the very center of the hall is a
table which stands on a square of black and
white marble with an inlaid design of simple
pattern. The table is draped with a
Persian cloth and on it rests a large vase
of plumelike sprays of coral flowers, the
favorite flower of Shoghi Effendi. There are,
below that, small vases of flowers, and yet
another set of roses of every hue floating
in flat dishes—a fountain of flowers in
a[Page 412]
still
room. There is an album placed among
them all with pictures of the Bahá’í
Temple near Chicago, showing its growth from
the first to the latest picture.
As we look about we notice that the walls under the skylight and the walls above the columns are thickly stenciled with a design of small pink roses with green leaves on a white ground. All of the ceiling in the hall is blue, and the rest of the wall under the arcade is stenciled in broad perpendicular bands of designs in various dull shades of red and blue. A deep wainscoating of three broad stripes of blue, green, and red gives a strikingly Oriental look to the general effect, and sets off the beauty of the white marble. Under the arcade are hung, on one side, two old colored prints, one of Mecca and one of Medina. At one end is a large picture of the “Greatest Name,” and at the other a view of the tomb of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and the Báb, showing the gardens and a view of the sea, with ‘Akká and Haifa. On the opposite wall there is a colored print of Jerusalem, and a painting, by Miss Marion Jack, of the view from the Mansion looking toward ‘Akká. There are ten doors leading off to various rooms, and one to a kitchen which is not used at present. These doors are dark brown with a panel of deep blue running crosswise about half-way, and each has a small brass knocker and a heavy lock. In the extreme left corner hangs a brown portier with a life-sized “Greatest Name” in gold, and behind this is the room in which Bahá’u’lláh used to stay, and where Professor Browne, one of the only two Europeans to do so, visited Him in 1890. The account of that visit is framed and hangs outside the door. We read Prof. Browne’s words:
“My conductor paused for a moment while I removed my shoes. Then with a quick movement of the hand he withdrew, and, as I passed, replaced the curtain; and I found myself in a large apartment, along the upper end of which ran a low divan, while on the side opposite to the door were placed two or three chairs. Though I dimly suspected whither I was going, and whom I was to behold (for no distinct intimation had been given me), a second or two elapsed ere, with a throb of wonder and awe, I became definitely conscious that the room was not untenanted. In the corner where the divan met the wall sat a wondrous and venerable figure, crowned with a felt headdress of the kind called táj by dervishes (but of unusual height and make), round the base of which was wound a small white turban. The face of him on whom I gazed I can never forget, though I cannot describe it. Those piercing eyes seemed to read one’s very soul; power and authority sat on that ample brow; while the deep lines on the forehead and face implied an age which the jet-black hair and beard flowing down in indistinguishable luxuriance almost to the waist seemed to belie. No need to ask in whose presence I stood, as I bowed myself before One who is the object of a devotion and love which kings might envy and emperors sigh for in vain.
“A mild dignified voice bade me be seated, and then continued: ‘Praise be to God that thou has attained. . . . Thou hast come to see a prisoner and an exile . . . We desire but the good of the world and the happiness of the nations; yet they deem us a stirrer-up of strife and sedition worthy of bondage and banishment . . . That all nations should become one in faith and all men as brothers; that the bonds of affection and unity between the sons of men should be strengthened; that diversity of religion should cease, and differences of race be annulled—what harm is there in this?. . . Yet so it shall be; these fruitless strifes, these ruinous wars shall pass away, and the Most Great Peace shall come . . . Do not you in Europe need this also? Is not this that which Christ foretold? Yet do we see your kings and rulers lavishing their treasures more freely on means of the destruction of the human race than on that which would conduce to the happiness of mankind. . . These strifes and this bloodshed and discord must cease, and all men be as one kindred and one family . . . Let not a man glory in this, that he loves his country; let him rather glory in this, that he loves his kind. . .’
“Such, so far as I can recall them, were
the words which, besides many others, I
heard from Bahá. Let those who read them
consider well with themselves whether
such[Page 413]
doctrines
merit death and bonds, and
whether the world is more likely to gain or
lose by their diffusion.”
But who can describe this room or this house where Bahá’u’lláh lived in exile, and from where mighty Tablets from His pen went forth to a world in need. We visited this room the last. The shoes, the bed of Him who lived there were set out for us to see. We stood just where Professor Browne was standing when he received this wonderful impression. But it is the whole house that speaks of those souls who lived under its roof. Some one said “people forget but places remember.” That is the feeling I had about the walls of Bahjí. They have seen and remembered, and we can take from them if we will.
Shoghi Effendi has arranged a pleasant and convenient writing room for the friends. In it are two writing tables with every convenience, with the seal of the Mansion to stamp on the letter written there. Candles and flowers adorn the tables. A heavy straw matting covers the floor, on top of which are spread soft Oriental rugs. On the right hand table, among other things, is a framed “Greatest Name” in gold on white. Above this hangs a rug with a picture of the Temple woven into it, and on one wall is a large picture, a copy of one of Mr. Bourgeois’ designs for a window in the Temple, an exquisite piece of architectural drawing by the hand of a genius. There are various photographs of Bahá’í groups, and other objects concerning the Cause, among which is a hanging bookcase of Bahá’í literature in different languages. Two big windows overlook the garden.
Opposite the writing room is a sitting room. On the central table is a lovely framed picture of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, and two beautifully bound books in morocco, one red and one green, gold embossed. One of these has recently been presented to Shoghi Effendi. It is the “Hidden Words” translated into Albanian by the first Albanian pilgrim, Refo Chapari, and the other is Shoghi Effendi’s translation of the same. On the left is a filing case on whose shelves rest translations of the Bahá’í writings in thirty-nine languages, and nearby is a map of the United States with the different Assemblies marked in red. The opposite wall has eight framed Tablets of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and Bahá’u’lláh, and above these Tablets is an old formal painting of the Mansion. Here also is another picture of the Temple, a rug with the Temple woven in it, a picture of the view from the Mansion looking towards the tomb of Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Akká, the matting and Oriental rugs, and many other things of interest to the pilgrims.
Now we pass through the central hall, through a large corner bedroom, around the walls of which are long seats covered with white linen commonly found in this house, and out to the big veranda. Here is a marble fountain with gold fish and gently splashing water. The window sashes are of green, the blinds and doors of blue, the floor of white marble, and beyond all this the vistas of landscape through the pillars and arches which support the roof. These are the lovely scenes at which Bahá’u’lláh and His family must have gazed so often. Through some of the arches a distant view of the city of ‘Akká is framed. In the foreground are grey-green olive groves, and in the middle distance stately rows of cypress, then the old farm house, and a grove of pine trees with rounded tops. To the left are more framed vistas of the rolling cultivated fields and distant mountains. Here, as we stand in the refreshing sun and breeze of spring, a camel caravan may pass slowly by reminding us that we are in Palestine, but otherwise it is hard to realize,—this place has such a feeling of freshness and freedom.
On the extreme right of the porch we have a lovely view of the enclosed garden adjoining the Tomb of Bahá’u’lláh, and from there we can view the sea and the big trees under which ‘Abdu’l-Bahá used to stroll. Here a white donkey is tethered as of old, but this one is a descendant of the one ‘Abdu’l-Bahá used to ride. But now, before we leave this veranda, we notice painted at intervals on its clean white walls above doors and windows, all sorts of interesting designs in ancient mode, having been skillfully renovated under Shoghi Effendi’s careful direction. The subjects are put on as one would paint a coat of arms
Interior Views of the Mansion at Bahjí
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above
a door, giving the effect of concentrated
masses of color from a distance.
We spent a night of perfect rest in one of the comfortable high-studded chambers. We arose early the next morning and the birds were singing in the garden below our window; a wind tossed the breakers on the shore which we could see in the distance. It was quiet in the big Mansion so we moved cautiously about, did some writing, and then found our way under the arcades of the lower porch into the garden. The clouds were racing overhead, letting the sun in and out. How lovely it would be to live at Bahjí and paint the views from there. ‘Akká in the sunlight for one picture, with the sea beyond and Mt. Carmel in the distance, olive groves with cypress, and old houses peeping through the green.
Before leaving we visited the Shrine of Bahá’u’lláh. We approached it through the closed garden, by gorgeous hedges of red geranium, over the red gravel paths to the white pebble path before the door that leads to the outer shrine. Here a lemon tree stood heavy with golden fruit, and a great cypress pointed heavenward. In the shrine the air was sweet with yellow jasmine that is thickly strewn on the threshold to the inner shrine. The outer room is a bower of green, reaching to the high skylighted ceiling, and the floor is completely covered with the finest silky Persian rugs, so fine that it seems wrong to tread them even without shoes. It is a place of indescribable sweetness and peace. But each pilgrim’s heart knows best what sort of a place is the Shrine of Bahá’u’lláh. I shall but say that next to this divine spot stands the old, old Mansion in which Bahá’u’lláh moved and lived, shut away from the world,—He who was for light and glory. The pilgrims of His following are greatly privileged in being permitted to go there and spend a night. We rejoiced to sit about the table where ‘Abdu’l-Bahá used to receive the pilgrims in former days. We saw His simple little room just as He left it; and back of all these lovely experiences the painstaking hand of His grandson, Shoghi Effendi, in every room, among the books and relics and treasures saved, and so he it was whom we thanked in our hearts.
So at the end of the day, tired and happy, with our arms full of fragrant flowers, we returned along the tide-swept road, and home to Haifa and the Pilgrim House. We had slept at the Mansion of Bahá’u’lláh, and our hearts were full of the richness of this experience.
