‘Abdu’l-Baha tells the story of His prison life at the request of a reporter in Paris

<div class="MsoNormal"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWOeaev5E_jVzlqVGrGnARZkKjfeggv81BTGXDwL4bDFCdRw-OZMm2kpAt9lP-xFzvaxGjuhG1Y2mb8UidpooJopxELxUCZOgjrP7sWIWECm4OcPAPTTy6vJtD6SrQZhqti-emHZlfTI/s1600/Paintings-7-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="72" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWOeaev5E_jVzlqVGrGnARZkKjfeggv81BTGXDwL4bDFCdRw-OZMm2kpAt9lP-xFzvaxGjuhG1Y2mb8UidpooJopxELxUCZOgjrP7sWIWECm4OcPAPTTy6vJtD6SrQZhqti-emHZlfTI/s1600/Paintings-7-1.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>(‘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.

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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.

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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)</i></span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“At nine years of age, I was banished with my father, Baha’u’llah, on His journey of exile to Baghdad, Arabia; seventy of His followers accompanying us.

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This decree of exile after persistent persecution was intended to effectively stamp out of Persia what the authorities considered a dangerous movement.

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Baha’u’llah, His family and followers were driven from place to place.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There was no communication whatever with the outside world.

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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.

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</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <o:p><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span></o:p></div> <a name='more'></a><br /> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">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.

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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.

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I used to make broth for the people and as I had much practice, I made good broth, <span style="font-size: x-small;">(said ‘Abdu’l-Baha, laughingly)</span>.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After two years of the strictest confinement, permission was granted me to find a house, so that we could live outside the prison walls but still within the fortifications. Many believers came from Persia to join us, but were not allowed to do so. Nine years passed.

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Sometimes we were better off and sometimes very much worse.

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It depended on the governor, who if he happened to be a kind and lenient ruler, would grant us permission to leave the fortification and would allow the people free access to visit the house; but when the governor was more rigorous, extra guards were place around us and often pilgrims who had come from afar were turned away.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One year before Abdu’l-Hamid was dethroned, he sent an extremely overbearing, treacherous and insulting committee of investigation.

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The chairman was one of the governer's staff, Arif Bey, and with him were three army commanders of varying rank.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Immediately upon his arrival, Arif Bey proceeded to try to get proof strong enough to denounce me to the Sultan and warrant sending me to Fezan, or throwing me into the sea. Fezan is a caravan station on the boundary of Tripoli, where there are no houses and no water.

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It is a month's journey by camel route from Acca. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The committee, after denouncing me in their report, sent word that they wanted to see me, but I declined. I assured them that I had no desire to meet them. This infuriated them and when they sent for me again I sent this word back: 'I know your purpose. You wish to incriminate me.

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Very well, write in your report just what you like; send me a copy with instructions as to what you want me to write, and I will seal it myself and give it to you.'</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A ship came into port reputed to be the one that was to take me to Fezan or drop me into the sea.

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The people used to stand on the wall of the city and look at this ship; but Arif Bey, rising in supreme wrath, declared that he would return to Constantinople and bring back an order from the Sultan to have me hanged at the gate of Acca.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">About this time another ship appeared in the harbor, an Italian vessel sent by order of the Italian consul.

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On it I was to escape by night.

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The friends implored me to go, but I sent this message to the captain: 'The Báb did not run away; Baha’u’llah did not run away; I shall not run away' -- so the ship sailed away after waiting three days and three nights.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was while the Sultan's committee of investigation was homeward bound that the first historic shell was dropped into Abdu’l-Hamid's camp and the first gun of freedom was into the home of despotism.

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That was God's gun, (said Abdul Baha, with one of his wonderful smiles.)</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When the committee reached Constantinople they had more urgent things to think of. The capital was in a state of uproar and rebellion and the committee, as members of the government staff, were delegated to investigate the insurrection.

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Meanwhile the people established a constitutional government and Abdu’l-Hamid was deposed.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With the advent of the Young Turk's supremacy, realized through the Society of Union and Progress, in 1898, all the political and religious prisoners of the Ottoman Empire were freed. Events took the chains from my neck and placed them about Hamid's.

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‘Abdu’l-Baha came out of prison and Abdu’l-Hamid went in!</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(What became of the committee?

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was asked).</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Arif Bey, was shot with three bullets; the general was exiled; the next in rank died suddenly and the third ran away to Cairo where he sought and received help from some of the friends there.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(We are glad you are free, I said.)</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Again the wondrous smile.)</span> Freedom is not a matter of place.

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It is a condition. I was thankful for the prison and the lack of liberty was very pleasing to me, for those days were passed in the path of service under the utmost difficulties and trials, bearing fruits and results.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Unless one accepts dire vicissitudes he will not attain.

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To me prison is freedom; troubles rest me; incarceration is an open court; death is life and to be despised is honor. Therefore, I was happy all that time in prison. When one is released from the prison of self, that is indeed freedom, for self is the greater prison. When this release takes place, one can never be imprisoned.

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They used to put my feet in stocks so, <span style="font-size: x-small;">(and he put out his feet before him to illustrate and laughed as though it were a joke he enjoyed.)</span></span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I would say to the guard 'You cannot imprison me, for here I have light and air and bread and water.

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There will come a time when my body will be in the ground and I shall have neither light nor air nor food nor water, but even then I shall not be imprisoned.' The afflictions which come to humanity sometimes tend to center the consciousness upon the limitations. This is a veritable prison.

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Release comes by making of the will a door through which the confirmations of the spirit come.</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(What do you mean by the confirmations of the spirit?

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I asked.)</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The confirmations of the spirit are all those powers and gifts with which some are born and which men sometimes call genius, but for which others have to strive with infinite pains.

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They come to that man or woman who accepts his life with radiant acquiescence.”</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <br /></div> <div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(Radiant acquiescence -- that was the quality with which we were suddenly seemed inspired as Abdul Baha bade us good-bye.) (‘Abdu'l-Baha, quoted by Isabel Chamberlain (d. 1939), who compiled the book, ‘Abdu’l-Baha on Divine Philosophy’, consisting of talks delivered in Paris.)</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>

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