The eldest son of Baha-'ullah is our dear and venerated Abdul Baha ('Servant of the Splendour'), otherwise known as Abbas Effendi. He was born at the midnight following the day on which the Bāb made his declaration. He was therefore eight years old, and the sister who writes her recollections five, when, in August 1852, an attempt was made on the life of the Shah by a young Bābī, disaffected to the ruling dynasty. The future Abdul Baha was already conspicuous for his fearlessness and for his passionate devotion to his father. The gamins of Tihran (Teheran) might visit him as he paced to and fro, waiting for news from his father, but he did not mind—not he. One day his sister—a mere child—was returning home under her mother's care, and found him surrounded by a band of boys. 'He was standing in their midst as straight as an arrow—a little fellow, the youngest and smallest of the group—firmly but quietly commanding them not to lay their hands upon him, which, strange to say, they seemed unable to do.' [Footnote: Phelps, pp. 14, 15.]
This love to his father was strikingly shown during the absence of Baha-'ullah in the mountains, when this affectionate youth fell a prey to inconsolable paroxysms of grief. [Footnote: Ibid. p. 20.] At a later time—on the journey from Baghdad to Constantinople—Abdul Baha seemed to constitute himself the special attendant of his father. 'In order to get a little rest, he adopted the plan of riding swiftly a considerable distance ahead of the caravan, when, dismounting and causing his horse to lie down, he would throw himself on the ground and place his head on his horse's neck. So he would sleep until the cavalcade came up, when his horse would awake him by a kick, and he would remount.' [Footnote: Phelps, pp. 31, 32.]
In fact, in his youth he was fond of riding, and there was a time when he thought that he would like hunting, but 'when I saw them killing birds and animals, I thought that this could not be right. Then it occurred to me that better than hunting for animals, to kill them, was hunting for the souls of men to bring them to God. I then resolved that I would be a hunter of this sort. This was my first and last experience in the chase.'
'A seeker of the souls of men.' This is, indeed, a good description of both father and son. Neither the one nor the other had much of what we call technical education, but both understood how to cast a spell on the soul, awakening its dormant powers. Abdul Baha had the courage to frequent the mosques and argue with the mullās; he used to be called 'the Master' par excellence, and the governor of Adrianople became his friend, and proved his friendship in the difficult negotiations connected with the removal of the Bahaites to Akka. [Footnote: Ibid. p. 20, n.2.]
But no one was such a friend to the unfortunate Bahaites as Abdul Baha. The conditions under which they lived on their arrival at Akka were so unsanitary that 'every one in our company fell sick excepting my brother, my mother, an aunt, and two others of the believers.' [Footnote: Phelps, pp. 47-51.] Happily Abdul Baha had in his baggage some quinine and bismuth. With these drugs, and his tireless nursing, he brought the rest through, but then collapsed himself. He was seized with dysentery, and was long in great danger. But even in this prison-city he was to find a friend. A Turkish officer had been struck by his unselfish conduct, and when he saw Abdul Baha brought so low he pleaded with the governor that a ḥakîm might be called in. This was permitted with the happiest result.
It was now the physician's turn. In visiting his patient he became so fond of him that he asked if there was nothing else he could do. Abdul Baha begged him to take a tablet (i.e. letter) to the Persian believers. Thus for two years an intercourse with the friends outside was maintained; the physician prudently concealed the tablets in the lining of his hat!
It ought to be mentioned here that the hardships of the prison-city were mitigated later. During the years 1895-1900 he was often allowed to visit Ḥaifa. Observing this the American friends built Baha-'ullah a house in Ḥaifa, and this led to a hardening of the conditions of his life. But upon the whole we may apply to him those ancient words:
'He maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him.'
In 1914 Abdul Baha visited Akka, living in the house of Baha-'ullah, near where his father was brought with wife and children and seventy Persian exiles forty-six years ago. But his permanent home is in Ḥaifa, a very simple home where, however, the call for hospitality never passes unheeded. 'From sunrise often till midnight he works, in spite of broken health, never sparing himself if there is a wrong to be righted, or a suffering to be relieved. His is indeed a selfless life, and to have passed beneath its shadow is to have been won for ever to the Cause of Peace and Love.'
Since 1908 Abdul Baha has been free to travel; the political victory of the Young Turks opened the doors of Akka, as well as of other political 'houses of restraint.' America, England, France, and even Germany have shared the benefit of his presence. It may be that he spoke too much; it may be that even in England his most important work was done in personal interviews. Educationally valuable, therefore, as Some Answered Questions (1908) may be, we cannot attach so much importance to it as to the story—the true story—of the converted Muḥammadan. When at home, Abdul Baha only discusses Western problems with visitors from the West.