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chapter 7 | start page | single page | chapter 9 |
The Gardens Surrounding the Shrine of the Báb
MENTION has already been made of Shoghi Effendi's great love for beauty in the world of nature, love which was reflected in his eagerness to landscape most of the ground around the Shrine of the Báb, and extend the gardens on the mountain-side, below and above the Holy Edifice. Since assuming the Guardianship, his efforts, displaying originality, talent and good taste, were directed at beautifying the whole area. His keen observance of nature and love of gardens greatly assisted him in this work. When I first met him, I was astonished at the encyclopaedic knowledge he possessed on this subject, which, combined with a practical ability, made him the most outstanding landscapist in all Palestine. I vividly remember the exchange of views on gardening - as in my youth I had learned quite a lot from the gardeners on my family's estate in Sicily, where climate and flora are very similar to those of the Holy Land - and Shoghi Effendi's surprise in finding out how much I shared the enjoyment of his avocation although with a lesser degree of competence. On my part, having greatly admired the work already accomplished by him up to 1952, I was utterly fascinated with the versatility of his original mind.[*]
A few days later, on the evening after my first visit to the Shrine of Bahá'u'lláh and the Mansion of Bahji, the Guardian asked me what I had first noticed on entering the Mansion. He was looking at me intently, with an expression of expectation on his dear face, and when I replied that on the wall at the top of the staircase I had seen the framed photograph of an interesting man's head, possibly of a Persian, his face became aglow with an inner feeling of pleasure and gratification. 'Oh, I am glad you did see it,' he said smiling; 'how observant you are. I placed that picture there myself for everyone to see. It is our remarkable and celebrated gardener Abu'l-Qasim, whose services to the Master and myself will never be forgotten.' I had heard before of Abu'l Qasim,[*] and of his great competence and dedicated activities, but I had not seen his photograph, now so much honoured as to welcome every visitor who enters the Mansion of Bahá'u'lláh.
Some months later, when I visited one of the farms previously belonging to the Master, purchased by Him on the east shore of the Sea of Galilee, in commenting upon the perfection of the agricultural developments visible all around, I was told by those who were then attending the farm: 'This is not all our merit; what we are now doing is what we learned from the Persian Bahá'ís who cultivated the place formerly.' That testimonial strengthened my conviction that the enterprising spirit displayed by Shoghi Effendi in beautifying the grounds around all the Holy Places of the Faith had deep roots in the traditions of Persia, so famous since ancient times for its celebrated ornamental gardens.
It is impossible for me adequately to relate the history of the development of the gardens around the Shrine of the Báb. The difficulties in purchasing the necessary land, since the days of 'Abdu'l-Bahá and through the stewardship of Shoghi Effendi, have elsewhere been mentioned,[*] and the reader can well imagine the Guardian's anxiety to acquire enough ground on that holy mountain to ensure the beautification of the environs and the privacy which would protect the sacredness of the Mausoleum, and to permit hosts of pilgrims and visitors to come from all over the world to enjoy the spiritual atmosphere of that hallowed spot without outside intrusion. The beloved Master, 'Abdu'l-Bahá, from the very beginning of His erection of the first six rooms of the Shrine, had arranged for a small flower garden compatible with the ground then available around the building. I remember having seen, years ago, a photograph taken possibly in 1907 that showed the arrangement of some shrubs and flower plants in front (the north facade) of the Shrine. This garden extended a little to east and west of the building, and was protected by an iron fence of a simple design - perhaps four feet high - and a wood bower at one end, holding up climbing vines. Not much water was then available for the garden, other than that gathered from rain and stored in a cistern, adjacent to the Shrine. This cistern 'Abdu'l-Bahá had built well before the construction of the Shrine was initiated. I vividly recollect Shoghi Effendi speaking of this important step taken by 'Abdu'l-Bahá right after He had decided to erect that sacred building. The limitation of water prevented expanding the cultivated ground.
It was again the creative ability and eagerness of Shoghi Effendi that made it possible to bring more water to the mountain, thus permitting development of an extensive plan of beautification of the grounds. The result was a departure from the formality of English or Italian gardens, as he adapted his cultivated taste to the nature of the ground, the type of trees, of shrubs and flowers that would survive and thrive in the climate of that country, and to the general landscape of the whole region.
The rocky and impervious slopes of the mountain presented many difficulties to the habitual gardener, firstly because of limited accessibility, and secondly because of the erosive action of the winter and spring torrential rains which would wipe out any growing thing other than well-rooted trees.
The answer, as Abdu'l-Bahá had anticipated, was terraces that would retain the soil and provide level ground on which to plant flowers and shrubs. My impression, when I first beheld that part of Mt. Carmel on which the Shrine is located, was that of a huge stage set up for an epic drama. I find it difficult to convey in words the feeling that overcame me as I considered the details, so well thought out, of the delightful and harmonious landscape surrounding the focal point - the Shrine of the Báb. I recalled childhood memories of the crib of the infant Jesus, at Christmas time, surrounded by clay angels and awed figures of men and animals, trees and flowers and burning candles, and the music of a mechanical carillon, repeating a seraphic tune over and over again. Then, as that memory faded, I saw the Shrine in its true reality, half erected, emerging from a garden of enchantment, which like a precious mantle of green would enhance the beauty of the golden-crowned 'Queen of Carmel', the dramatic creche of a New Revelation for a new world!
Immediately after starting his historic Guardianship, Shoghi Effendi devoted some of his precious and busy hours to laying out a general pattern of a garden which would surround the original Shrine erected by Abdu'l-Bahá, and to preparing a setting for embellishment of the Shrine.
In the early 1920's, the pattern started to unfold. The ground was leveled in front of the Shrine; the sharp pendency of the mountain was lessened in the rear and at the sides of the building, permitting hedges and flowers to be planted,[*] and paths, walks and steps to be laid out, much as we see them today.
"Men really know not what good water's worth."[**]
Although in earlier times an aqueduct had been built to bring water from the Lebanese mountains to the city of Ptolemais ('Akka), it had been rendered ineffective by neglect. A real system of water distribution did not come into existence until after the creation of the State of Israel. Wells and cisterns - the latter to conserve rainfall - were generally used to provide water for domestic consumption. As mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, Shoghi Effendi solved the problem of watering the Shrine gardens with ingenious and practical technique. When the house of 'Abdu'l-Bahá, at 7 Persian Street, was built in the first decade of this century, a deep well, located on the south side of the building, had at the time an excellent supply of water, which was at first drawn up by the ancient method of a pulley, cord and pail, and subsequently by other methods, including a pump actioned by a windmill. The only way to secure the water needed for the Shrine gardens was to bring the water of that well up the mountain. The Guardian personally related to me what a challenging task it was to find so much iron pipe locally; pipes of various diameters, assembled with the use of different junctures, had to be used, until the whole distance from the house of the Master to the Shrine of the Báb could be covered.
The reader should consider the technical elements that had to be overcome in negotiating both the distance and the difference of levels. The other problem to be solved was the high pressure needed to lift the water from the level of almost zero to over five hundred feet. The old windmill was unable to accomplish this task and was discarded for an electric piston pump which later was replaced by an electric high-pressure rotative pump, that increased the supply of water brought up the mountain to fulfil the needs of the ever-expanding gardens.
The steepness of the slopes was overcome by terraces made by filling retaining walls with earth. The first was the large terrace in front of the Shrine which extended on its east and west sides. Other terraces followed at the rear of the Shrine, in parallel, and of the same length as the first one. Some rather steep paths and a series of steps made it possible to circulate around the Shrine with some facility. Shoghi Effendi adopted the same system for the Monument gardens to the south, and later again when the International Archives garden was being laid. Once I asked him why some of the paths were so steep. He looked at me with a mild expression of surprise on his face, as if I should have known the answer, that the beauty of the gardens surpassed in importance the convenience of the ever-increasing number of visitors.
The terrace in front of the Shrine was considerably extended to the east during the spring of 1952. Most of the retaining walls had hitherto been built of dry stones, that is, without mortar or cement; this extension, however, and the two lower terraces towards the east, were supported by cut stone and steel-reinforced concrete.
The Municipality of Haifa was selling a large quantity of stones from buildings which had been torn down to make room for new constructions, and Shoghi Effendi contracted to buy as much as possible and cart it away with our own truck. The construction of the Shrine had reached the level of the pinnacles and he was extremely anxious to complete the extension of the garden at an early date. We had a crew of workers unloading the truck and bringing the stones to the masons; no matter how fast they worked, there was a constant excess of stones to be moved to make room for the successive arrival of a new load. I was not aware that sometime during the forenoon hours, the Guardian was following with powerful binoculars the work on the wall from one window of his home which looked directly towards the Shrine. One morning we were short of a workman, and to help expedite the work, I helped to move the stones, little knowing that I was being observed from a distance by Shoghi Effendi. That night at the table - perhaps I looked a bit fatigued by the unusual labour - Shoghi Effendi asked me what I had been doing during the day, and I answered that I had spent the forenoon at the terrace wall, and the afternoon at the Shrine. He looked at me intensely and then he said, 'I saw you this morning carrying stones; you must not do that; when you will see your Guardian carrying stones, then you shall be authorized to do the same.' There was such a tone of love and compassion in his voice that I could hardly contain my tears, but I keenly felt how much he had appreciated that humble action of devotion. This was Shoghi Effendi, the planner, the engineer, the essence of justice, the liberal and loving true brother!
By the time the huge wall was finished, and the great pit filled with stones and earth, there had been planted trees and hedges, flowers and grass. In two weeks the carpet of tender green new grass extended from one end to the other of this terrace, which enjoys one of the most beautiful views over the city of Haifa, the bay of 'Akka, and the endless Mediterranean Sea. Cypress trees were planted along the northern aspect of the terrace, new lampposts were ordered in Italy, and later erected, and iron fences, gates, urns, eagles and peacocks were placed on marble or stone bases, to enhance the grandeur and the mystic beauty of that blessed spot. Looking out from the north side of the terrace, one sees, immediately at the foot of the mountain, Carmel Avenue, a straight thoroughfare which passes through the midst of the German Templars' Colony and reaches the port of the city. All the land between the Shrine and the foot of the mountain, at the beginning of Carmel Avenue, which the Guardian had purchased in various lots over many years, was to be transformed into luxuriant gardens, thus completing the ornamental sylvan frame around that blessed focal point, the Shrine of the Báb. To Shoghi Effendi, the connection between the Shrine and Carmel Avenue was essential, for it had been planned by 'Abdu'l-Bahá a quarter of a century before with a series of nine terraces, and this plan was set in his mind. Technical difficulties arose which only his inventiveness and perseverance were able to overcome. My heart still pains at the thought of the arduous and Herculean efforts of the beloved Shoghi Effendi, who, single-handed and overburdened by a magnitude of other activities and anxieties, planned and brought into existence the nine terraces, upon which 'the bare feet of the pilgrim kings of the world' - as he often repeated - 'would tread the hallowed ground to reach and circumambulate the Shrine of the Báb in adoration.'
I was told that during the clearing of that ground, one small house stood in the way, which the Guardian wanted removed. He waited for days to have the work done by a crew of bungling men, until, unable to contain his disappointment, he went to the place and, seizing a heavy sledge-hammer, with unsuspected skill demonstrated to the workers, by well-aimed blows, how to deal with the matter. By evening the house had been torn down, and the stones were later utilized in terracing the ground. Because of the interference of some Covenant-breakers, the work which had been initiated in the late 'twenties was completed only in the early spring of 1951, when the last two terraces, closest to the Shrine, were finished to his joy and satisfaction. Palms and cypresses were planted and electric lights set all along both sides of the nine terraces, fulfilling what had been one of the cherished wishes of Abdu'l-Bahá.
When this writer reached Haifa in March 1952, at the request of the Guardian, he was informed of certain plans Shoghi Effendi had devised for the beautification of the lower end of the terraces at Carmel Avenue, the embellishment of the grounds around Bahji, and the construction of a magnificent Shrine around the existing Tomb of Bahá'u'lláh. 'I have asked you to come here, to consult with you on these matters,' he said to me right after my arrival, 'and I shall want you to secure estimates of costs for such projects; do not think that your work will terminate with the completion of the Shrine of the Báb,' and in saying so he looked at me as if he wanted me to be at his service for a long time to come. It was a moment of great inner happiness for me, because I wished nothing more than to make his burden lighter on matters in which physical efforts and aptitude were essential.
Mr. Maxwell, at the request of the Guardian, had prepared architectural plans for a monumental gate to be built at the lower end of the terraces facing Carmel Avenue. It was a classic project, somewhat on the order of the gate at the entrance to the gardens on UNO Avenue, but on a wider front and more dramatic. It consisted of two posts of considerable height, and four smaller ones, all of marble, which would support a large iron-wrought gate of conventional baroque design, and four smaller iron panels. These smaller panels matched the same design, and would be placed two on each side of the central gate. The four smaller posts were to rest on a dressed marble wall about four feet high. The plan of Mr. Maxwell included also an artistic circular fountain which Shoghi Effendi at the time felt would not yet be feasible; the fountain was to be placed at a certain distance before the gate. The whole project was indeed handsome, and would have enhanced considerably the beauty of the whole area. Bids for this project were secured, approved and contracted for the work to be executed over a period of a few months. When the material - marble and iron-work - arrived in Haifa, I had already left the Holy Land, and could not explain why Shoghi Effendi, after seeing some of the finely executed parts of the gate, suddenly decided to use all that material in the beautification of the grounds at Bahji.[*] In a later chapter I shall indicate where the many component parts of it are to be found.
To add some final words to the subject of the gardens, I would like to mention that one section of the grounds, in the proximity of the Eastern Pilgrim House on Mt. Carmel, almost in front of it, was transformed by the Guardian into an enchanting tropical oasis, with desert plants and many varieties of cacti, which lend to the spot a highly admired exotic appearance.
Among other things of interest is the varied colour of the paths; some are bright white, filled with pebbles from the Sea of Galilee while others are ochre-red, covered with crushed roof tiles of French manufacture. During the last century, when the influence of France was strong in Syria, red roof tiles, made in Marseilles little by little supplanted the crushed stone on arched ceilings used by the Arabs, according to the Roman method of making roofs. Nearly all homes, before the advent of reinforced concrete, had such roofs. Shoghi Effendi, whose talent for originality was immense, devised the idea of alternating paths of different colours in the gardens, and kept on buying discarded roof tiles - from demolished houses or other sources - and having them crushed into small fragments by an ingenious, hand-operated, small machine. In the late 'fifties, however, the supply of red tiles became scarcer and scarcer, and crushed bricks were used as a substitute.
I would like also to call the attention of the reader to the fact that it was Shoghi Effendi who, since the early days of his ministry, organized the outer illumination of the Shrine of the Báb and of the gardens. Long before the new superstructure of the Shrine was initiated, the building erected by 'Abdu'l-Bahá had been illuminated on the outside by small electric reflectors, the light of which became more and more powerful and luminous, as conditions permitted and better equipment was secured. I remember how often he would tell the visiting pilgrims that because a simple candle was denied the beloved Báb during His imprisonment in Mah-Ku, His resting-place was to be eternally a temple of light. This was also true inside His tomb, where there is a magnificent chandelier, with almost a hundred electric bulbs that, when lighted, turn the sombre dim light of the inner chamber into the full glory of brilliant sunshine. The adjacent tomb of Abdu'l-Bahá is also illuminated by another crystal chandelier, a splendour which can hardly repay the beloved Master for the glorious light of His exemplary life diffused over three continents of the world.[*]
One other outstanding and yet most attractive feature of the gardens is provided by decorative objects spread throughout the grounds, in positions where they produce an impressive effect. They include vases, obelisks, urns, fountains and birds, placed on pedestals of dressed local stone or of Carrara marble. Some urns are beautiful examples of Italian carving; others are reproductions of peacocks, eagles, or flowers - mostly tulips - made of pewter or other lead alloy, which Shoghi Effendi purchased from time to time in Europe. They are fine works of art endowed with graceful elegance which add considerably to the beauty and magnificence of the gardens surrounding the Shrine. I well remember the eagerness of Shoghi Effendi in placing such ornamentations as soon as the ground of the terrace was made ready. Often I was charged with the purchase in Italy of pedestals, marble blocks, columns, and bird-baths, and with making sure that such valuable ornamentations were securely fastened to their bases, to discourage souvenir hunters. Visitors or pilgrims would often ask the meaning of peacocks and eagles situated in the proximity of the Shrine, imagining that perhaps an esoteric or mystical significance was connected with the Bahá'í Revelation. The beloved Guardian, at times much amused, always infinitely patient, would explain how in ancient Persian literature the peacock was considered the symbol of eternal life, while the eagle he considered the symbol of victory. Therefore they were befitting ornaments to decorate the earth ennobled by the 'Dust' of the Martyr-Prophet, the Báb, Whose ancient roots stemmed from the land of Fars (Persia).
chapter 7 | start page | single page | chapter 9 |
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