The Chair Beneath the Mulberry Trees

A retelling based on Ten Days in the Light of Akka by Julia M. Grundy, with details from An Early Pilgrimage by May Maxwell, God Passes By by Shoghi Effendi and The Revelation of Bahá'u'lláh by Adib Taherzadeh. Words in quotation marks are as recorded in those books.

During her pilgrimage to 'Akká, Julia Grundy went out to the Riḍván with the daughters of 'Abdu'l-Bahá. They drove through the city and out through the gates, passing the barracks where 'Abdu'l-Bahá had once been imprisoned, and then along a road bordered by fine trees until they were well away from the city. The road grew rough. To the right stood the hill of Tel el Fukhar, where Napoleon had planted his batteries when he laid siege to 'Akká in 1799, a siege he abandoned when he could not overcome the city.

At last they came to the Riḍván, a garden full of palm trees and flowers, with the air heavy with their perfume. The river Na'mayn runs through the garden in two streams, forming an island on which an arbour is built. Above the arbour stand two great round mulberry trees, in whose shade Bahá'u'lláh loved to sit. A fountain was playing in the middle of the garden. Grundy called the place an oasis in the midst of a desert-like barrenness, "a Paradise upon earth, a garden of God," for there Bahá'u'lláh had spent His summers.

'Abdu'l-Bahá had rented this garden in anticipation of His Father's release from confinement. Shoghi Effendi, in God Passes By, describes it as "a small island, situated in the middle of a river to the east of the city," named Riḍván by Bahá'u'lláh, Who called it the "New Jerusalem" and "Our Verdant Isle." Together with the house at Mazra'ih, a few miles north of 'Akká, it became "the favorite retreats of One Who, for almost a decade, had not set foot beyond the city walls."

"No one sits in the Manifestation's chair under the mulberry trees," she wrote. It was January, and the two trees were leafless; they are at their best in June. But oranges, lemons and tangerines hung ripe on other trees, and there were violets, narcissus, heliotrope, roses and red anemones. In summer, she added, golden pheasants fly about the garden, and ducks and waterfowl swim in the streams under the leaves of the arbour.

Abu'l-Qásim, the old gardener who had served Bahá'u'lláh during His lifetime, took them into the cottage where He had rested and slept. Everything there, Grundy wrote, was holy and sacred to His memory. His chair stood in the same place He had left it, and tributes of love had been placed about the room. The visitors knelt at the foot of the chair while one of the daughters of 'Abdu'l-Bahá chanted a prayer.

Afterwards an Arab woman served them tea and mandarins under the single mulberry tree near the cottage. "We were indeed upon holy ground," Grundy wrote. Some day, she believed, the Riḍván would be visited by pilgrims from all over the world, "just as the Garden of Gethsemane is sacred with the memories of Jesus Christ."

---

Abu'l-Qásim came from the village of Manshád, in the district of Yazd. He was the first gardener to dedicate his life to serving Bahá'u'lláh in the Riḍván, and Adib Taherzadeh writes that it was mainly through his hard work that the garden was made for Him. His brother, Muhammad-Ibráhím, was also a gardener, at Bahjí and other places.

Some years before Grundy's visit, May Maxwell, one of the first pilgrims from the West, came to the same garden. She found it small, but "one of the loveliest spots we had ever seen," and she recorded that Bahá'u'lláh frequently said to His gardener, Abu'l-Qásim, "This is the most beautiful garden in the world." Her party stood on the threshold of the room in the little house where He used to sit in hot weather, and one by one they knelt down.

Then Abu'l-Qásim made them tea and told them the story of the locusts. One hot summer a plague of locusts had eaten most of the foliage in the country round about. One day Abu'l-Qásim saw a thick cloud coming swiftly towards the garden, and in a moment thousands of locusts were covering the tall trees under which Bahá'u'lláh so often sat. The gardener hurried to the house and said to Him: "My Lord, the locusts have come, and are eating away the shade from above Thy blessed head. I beg of Thee to cause them to depart." Bahá'u'lláh smiled and said: "The locusts must be fed; let them be."

Abu'l-Qásim went back to the garden and watched for a while in silence. Then, unable to bear it, he returned and humbly asked again. Bahá'u'lláh rose, went into the garden and stood beneath the trees covered with the insects. "Abu'l-Qasim does not want you; God protect you," He said. He lifted the hem of His robe and shook it, and immediately all the locusts rose together and flew away.

When he had finished the story, May Maxwell wrote, Abu'l-Qásim touched his eyes and exclaimed: "Oh, blessed are these eyes to have seen such things; oh, blessed are these ears to have heard such things." As they left, he gave them flowers.

This is a retelling. For the fuller account, see Ten Days in the Light of Akka by Julia M. Grundy, "Visit to the Ridván," and An Early Pilgrimage by May Maxwell.

Grundy, J. M.. (1907). *Ten Days in the Light of Akka*.