Paris, 1911
(‘Abdu’l-Baha entered. With one impulse we arose, paying
unconscious homage to the majesty of the station of servitude. Surely there can
be no greater station than this! Instantly one felt an intangible something
that stamped him as one apart. Try as one would it could not be defined. All
that was tangible was the dome-like head with its patriarchal beard and eyes
that suggested eternity. After greeting us he waved us to our seats and
inquired if there were any questions we would like to ask. When informed that
my editor had sent me to ascertain if he would speak of his prison life,
‘Abdu’l-Baha began at once to tell his story in a simple, impersonal way)
“At nine years of age, I was banished with my father,
Baha’u’llah, on His journey of exile to Bagdad, Arabia; seventy of His
followers accompanying us. This decree of exile after persistent persecution
was intended to effectively stamp out of Persia what the authorities considered
a dangerous movement. Baha’u’llah, His family and followers were driven from
place to place.
When I was about twenty-five years old, we were moved from
Constantinople to Adrianople and from there went with a guard of soldiers to
the fortressed city of Acca where we were imprisoned and closely guarded.
There was no communication whatever with the outside world.
Each loaf of bread was cut open by the guard to see that it contained no
message. All who believed in the universal precepts of Baha’u’llah, children,
men and women, were imprisoned with us. At one time there were one hundred and
fifty of us together in two rooms and no one was allowed to leave the place
except four people who went to the bazaar to market each morning under
guard.
Acca was a fever-ridden town in Palestine. It was said that
a bird attempting to fly over it would drop dead. The food was poor and
insufficient, the water was drawn from a fever-infected well and the climate
and conditions were such that even the natives of the town fell ill. Many
soldiers succumbed and eight out of ten of our guards died. During the intense
heat of that first summer, malaria, typhoid, and dysentery attacked the
prisoners, so that all the men, women and children were sick at one time. There
were no doctors, no medicine, no proper food and no medical treatment of any
kind. I used to make broth for the people and as I had much practice, I made
good broth, (said ‘Abdu’l-Baha, laughingly).
