Through the mist of tears that fill my eyes I can clearly see, as I pen these lines, thy noble figure before me, and can recognize the serenity of thy kindly face. I can still gaze, though the shadow of the grave separate us, into thy blue, love-deep eyes, and can feel, in its calm intensity, the immense love thou didst bear for the Cause of thine Almighty Father, the attachment that bound thee to the most lowly and insignificant among its followers, the warm affection thou didst cherish for me in thine heart. The memory of the ineffable beauty of thy smile shall ever continue to cheer and hearten me in the thorny path I am destined to pursue. The remembrance of the touch of thine hand shall spur me on to follow steadfastly in thy way. The sweet magic of thy voice shall remind me, when the hour of adversity is at its darkest, to hold fast to the rope thou didst seize so firmly all the days of thy life.

Bear thou this my message to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, thine exalted and divinely-appointed Brother: If the Cause for which Bahá’u’lláh toiled and laboured, for which Thou didst suffer years of agonizing sorrow, for the sake of which streams of sacred blood have flowed, should, in the days to come, encounter storms more severe than those it has already weathered, do Thou continue to overshadow, with Thine all-encompassing care and wisdom, Thy frail, Thy unworthy appointed child.

What the Greatest Holy Leaf had done for Shoghi Effendi at the time of the Master’s passing and in the years that followed is beyond calculation. She had played, as he said, a unique part throughout the tumultuous stages of Bahá’í history, not the least of which had been the establishment of Shoghi Effendi’s own ministry after the death of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. “Which of the blessings am I to recount,” wrote Shoghi Effendi, “which in her unfailing solicitude she showered upon me, in the most critical and agitated hours of my life?” He said that to him she had been an incarnation of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s all-encompassing tenderness and love. As her life had waned his had waxed. With what deep satisfaction she must have seen, as the tide of her own life receded from the shores of this world, that Shoghi Effendi was become strong in his Guardianship, able to face the incessant blows he received with the fortitude of a man now fully grown into his stupendous task.

After the passing of the Master Shoghi Effendi had become Bahíyyih Khánum’s all in all, the very centre of her life — for him she had always been, next to his grandfather, the most beloved person in the world. I recall how, on one occasion during my 1923 pilgrimage with my mother, there was a large meeting attended by the Bahá’í men in the central hall of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s home; my mother and Edith Sanderson were seated there beside the Guardian but I had joined the women in a room opening on to it. We sat in the dark so that we could leave the door open (in those days the eastern men and women, following the custom of the country, were entirely sequestered) and hear a little of what was going on. It seems that some oriental believer, suddenly overcome by emotion, had got up and flung himself at the feel of Shoghi Effendi; we in our room could not see what had happened but only hear a great hubbub going on outside. The Greatest Holy Leaf, so slender and frail, jumped to her feet with a loud cry, fearing that something had happened to the young Guardian. She was quieted when someone brought news nothing serious had occurred, but her anguish had been so evident the scene imprinted itself on my mind forever.

Until the time of her death it was Shoghi Effendi’s custom to have his one meal a day alone with her, served on a small table in her bedroom. he told me that often, when she saw how upset he was, she used to tell him he should not eat when he was in this condition as it was very bad for his health. Another story he told me of her was how, when he had insisted she receive as an inheritance from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá a small sum of money, she had offered a large part of it to defray the expense of building the next terrace in front of the Shrine of the Bab in fulfilment of her Brother’s cherished plan.

So close was the communion between Shoghi Effendi and his great-aunt that over and over, in cables and other communications, particularly during the early years of his Guardianship, he included her with himself in such phrases as “assure us”, “the Greatest Holy Leaf and I”, “we”, and so on. In a cable sent in 1931 he even signs it “Bahiyyih Shoghi”. Nothing could be more revealing of this intense love he had for her than the fact that on the day we were married it was to her room, where everything is preserved as it was in her days, standing beside her bed, that the Guardian went to have the simple Bahá’í marriage ceremony of hand in hand performed and we each repeated the words in Arabic: “We will all, verily, abide by the Will of God.”

This love the Guardian had for the Greatest Holy Leaf, who had watched over him for thirty-five years as far more than a mother, continued to be demonstrated for the remainder of his life. When the news of her death reached him in Switzerland his first act was to plan for her grave a suitable memorial which he hastened to Italy to order. No one could possibly call this exquisitely proportioned monument, built of shining white Carrara marble, anything but what it appears — a love temple, the embodiment of Shoghi Effendi’s love. He had undoubtedly conceived its design from buildings of a similar style and, under his supervision, an artist now incorporated his concept in the monument he planned to erect on her resting-place. Shoghi Effendi used to compare the stages in the Administrative Order of the Faith to this monument, saying the platform of three steps was like the local Assemblies, the pillars like the National Assemblies, and the dome that crowned them and held them together like the Universal House of Justice, which could not be placed in position until the foundations and pillars were first firmly erected. After the Greatest Holy Leaf’s monument had been completed in all its beauty he had a photograph of it sent to many different Assemblies, as well as to a special list of individuals to whom he wished to present so tender a memento.

The armchair he had always sat in in her room he moved to the place where he often sat for a respite in his work and continued to use it until the end of his life; his bedroom was filled with photographs of her, at different stages of her life, and more than one picture showing her monument. In a strongly moving cable, sent to America seven months after her passing, in which he praises the loyalty and self-sacrifice of the champion builders of the World Order, he adds “Founder of our Faith well pleased tokens their wise stewardship ‘Abdu’l-Bahá proud of their valour Greatest Holy Leaf radiant with joy their fidelity”. He wrote that her memory would remain an “ennobling influence…amid the wreckage of a sadly shaken world.” He adorned the Archives with the illuminated Tablets of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá addressed to her, placed photographs of her and her monument in them, and some of her personal belongings and mementos. The day he told me that he had chosen me to be his wife he placed on my finger the simple gold ring engraved with the symbol of the Greatest Name which the Greatest Holy Leaf had given to him years before as his Bahá’í ring; he told me this should not be seen by anyone for the time being and I wore it around my neck on a chain until the day of our marriage.

In every act of his life he associated the Greatest Holy Leaf with his services to the Faith. When he entombed the remains of the mother and brother of Bahíyyih Khánum on Mt Carmel he cabled: “…cherished wish Greatest Holy Leaf fulfilled”, referring to her often expressed desire to be buried near them. On that momentous occasion he said he rejoiced at the privilege of pledging one thousand pounds as his contribution to the Bahíyyih Khánum Fund designed to inaugurate the final drive connected with the completion of the American Temple. He wrote that this transfer and reburial were events of “capital institutional significance”. He said “the conjunction of the resting-place of the Greatest Holy Leaf with those of her brother and mother incalculably reinforces the spiritual potencies of that consecrated Spot” which was “destined to evolve into the focal centre of those world-shaking, world-embracing, world-directing Administrative institutions, ordained by Bahá’u’lláh…”

BALLIOL COLLEGE JUNIOR COMMON ROOM, 1920, OXFORDThe arrow points to Shoghi Effendi amidst some of his classmates.(Detail from a larger photograph)BALLIOL COLLEGE JUNIOR COMMON ROOM, 1920, OXFORD The arrow points to Shoghi Effendi amidst some of his classmates. (Detail from a larger photograph)

THE SUCCESSOR OF ‘ABDU’L-BAHÁShoghi Effendi must have been about this age when he was appointed Guardian in the first section of the Master’s WillTHE SUCCESSOR OF ‘ABDU’L-BAHÁ Shoghi Effendi must have been about this age when he was appointed Guardian in the first section of the Master’s Will

‘ABDU’L-BAHÁ’s HOMEShowing the extra rooms built on the roof for Shoghi Effendi’s use by the Greatest Holy Leaf in 1923‘ABDU’L-BAHÁ’s HOME Showing the extra rooms built on the roof for Shoghi Effendi’s use by the Greatest Holy Leaf in 1923

When ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s mantle, as Head of the Faith, fell on Shoghi Effendi’s shoulders a great change came over him. What the nature of that change was spiritually is not possible for us — so infinitely remote in both station and stature — to grasp or to define. Many times he used to tell me “when they read the Master’s Will to me, I ceased to be a normal human being.” The always personable and noble young man, now, and ever increasingly as the years went by, had the stamp of kingship in his face, his manner, his walk and gestures. It was not assumed, it was never an imitation of his grandfather, it was almost one might say an endowed change. Shoghi Effendi was never really intimate with anyone except the closest members of his family and, in the early days, those who acted as his help-mates and secretaries. As years went by and his burdens increased, even this intimacy grew less, so that by the time the members of the International Bahá’í Council came to Haifa it was very rarely that he ever saw one of its western members alone, usually to say good-bye when they were going away, or to give the Hands some instructions when they were going to represent him at a conference. The one who was most favoured in this respect was Milly Collins, whose unique love for and devotion to the Guardian had greatly endeared her to him; after my father passed away during a visit to his home in Canada, the Guardian invited Milly to come and live in the Master’s house, in the room my father had occupied, because her own room in the Western Pilgrim House was damp and she suffered greatly from arthritis; with the exception of Lotfullah Hakim, the members of the International Bahá’í Council were all lodged in this building and Shoghi Effendi did all his business with the Council members at the dinner table in that Pilgrim House or through messages conveyed to it by his liaison.

THE GUARDIAN AND BAHÍYYIH KHÁNUMProbably taken in 1919, before Shoghi Effendi left to study in EnglandTHE GUARDIAN AND BAHÍYYIH KHÁNUM Probably taken in 1919, before Shoghi Effendi left to study in England

This does not mean that his kindness was not frequently showered on the council members, particularly Milly. She was the only one, except the single person in charge of his mail, who ever had his address when we were away from Haifa (except, of course, my father) and who therefore had constant access to him. So great and tender was her love for Shoghi Effendi — whom she had first met shortly after the Master’s passing — that she almost never wrote to him directly but addressed her letters to me in order to spare him the necessity of writing to her direct. Well she knew that some believers had, in their innocent egotism, amassed as many as fifty, sixty or more letters from that over-burdened pen! She was determined never to add her share to such a weight and her every thought was directed to sparing him, in any way she could, the slightest extra effort and to serving him in any way that could bring some happiness to his heart. So great was her concern in these matters that, although she lived in his house, when the time came for him to go out or come in she would return to her room so as not to oblige him to expend a moment of his overtaxed time and tired mind on greeting her and feeling he should stop to talk to her for a few minutes. Sometimes her age and ailments would confine her to her room and then the Guardian would pay her a visit for a few moments, often bringing her a gift. I remember he came one evening when she was ill and took from his own neck the soft warm cashmere shawl a Bahá’í had given him and placed it himself about hers. It became her most treasured possession and she could never forget the touch of the warmth of his neck on hers.

But such relationships were very rare in the Guardian’s life. One such, however, was with my father. It has often seemed to me that of the many undeserved blessings of my life this was one of the greatest that God in His infinite mercy showered upon me — the great love between Shoghi Effendi and my father. The background of this bond goes back to the days of the beloved Guardian’s marriage. Until the last decade of my father’s life it had always been my mother who was the famous Bahá’í; she had come with the first group of pilgrims from the West to visit ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in Akka in the winter of 1898-9; she had been the first Bahá’í on European soil, the mother of the Bahá’í communities of both France and Canada, one of the Master’s earliest and most distinguished disciples and greatly loved by Him. I mention this because Shoghi Effendi once said to her, one night when he came to dinner in the Western Pilgrim House after our union, that had I not been May Maxwell’s daughter he would not have married me. This does not mean it was the only reason, but it was evidently a very powerful one, for in the cable he sent on 3 March 1940 officially announcing her death, which had taken place two days before, he said “To sacred tie her signal services had forged priceless honour martyr’s death now added. Double crown deservedly won.” These words clearly indicate her relationship to his marriage. In a Tablet of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá to one of her spiritual children He had written “her company uplifts and develops the soul”. Until I came under the direct influence of the Guardian, through being privileged to be with him for over twenty years, I can truly say that my character, my faith in Bahá’u’lláh and whatever small services I had so far been able to render Him, were entirely due to her influence. From these facts it will be seen that when I arrived with my mother, on my third pilgrimage to Haifa, in January 1937, the status of my father inside the Faith can best be described as being “Mrs. Maxwell’s husband”.

My mother was the one who had first known Shoghi Effendi as a child, when she came to the Holy Land at the end of the last century; she had come again, in 1909, with my father but I do not know how much contact, if any, they had at that time with Shoghi Effendi. following the passing of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá she suffered a complete break-down in health caused by the shock of his death, the news of which was broken to her very suddenly over the telephone, and for a year we did not know if she would live or die or lose her mind. My father felt that the only hope of dispelling the grief and dark thoughts that obsessed her — that she would never, because of her unworthiness, see the beloved Master in the next world — was for her to make the pilgrimage to Haifa again, this time to see the young successor of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. In April 1923 we arrived in Haifa and it was Shoghi Effendi who literally resurrected a woman who was so ill she could still not walk a step and could move about only in a wheel chair. From that time the love of my mother’s heart became entirely centred in the Guardian and when she was able to return to America, after we had spent two long periods in Haifa (with a break in between in Egypt while Shoghi Effendi was away in Europe), she once more served the Cause very actively. I myself again made the pilgrimage three years later with two of my mother’s Bahá’í friends and so, when we arrived in 1937, it was not as strangers but as two people reaching the zenith of their love.

Surely the simplicity of the marriage of Shoghi Effendi — reminiscent of the simplicity of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s own marriage in the prison-city of Akka — should provide a thought-provoking example to the Bahá’ís everywhere. No one, with the exception of his parents, my parents and a brother and two sisters of his living in Haifa, knew it was to take place. He felt strongly urged to keep it a secret, knowing from past experience how much trouble any major event in the Cause invariably stirred up. It was therefore a stunning surprise to both the servants and the local Bahá’ís when his chauffeur drove him off, with me beside him, to visit the Holy Tomb of Bahá’u’lláh on the afternoon of 25 March 1937. His heart drew him to that Most Sacred Spot on earth at such a moment in his life. I remember I was dressed, except for a white lace blouse, entirely in black for this unique occasion, and was a typical example of the way oriental women dressed to go out into the streets in those days, the custom being to wear black. Although I was from the West Shoghi Effendi desired me to fit into the pattern of the life in his house — which was a very oriental one — as naturally and inconspicuously as possible and I was only too happy to comply with his wishes in every way. When we arrived at Bahji and entered the Shrine he requested me to give him his ring, which I was still wearing concealed about my neck, and this he placed on the ring-finger of my right hand, the same finger that corresponded to the one of his own on which he himself had always worn it. This was the only gesture he made. He entered the inner Shrine, beneath the floor of which Bahá’u’lláh is interred, and gathered up in a handkerchief all the dried petals and flowers that the keeper of the Shrine used to take from the threshold and place in a silver receptacle at the feet of Bahá’u’lláh. After he had chanted the Tablet of Visitation we came back to Haifa and in the room of the Greatest Holy Leaf our actual marriage took place, as already mentioned. Except for this visit, the day he told me he had chosen to confer this great honour on me, and one or two brief moments in the Western Pilgrim House when he came over for dinner, I had never been alone with the Guardian. There was no celebration, no flowers, no elaborate ceremony, no wedding dress, no reception. His mother and father, in compliance with the laws of Bahá’u’lláh, signified their consent by signing our marriage certificate and then I went back to the Western Pilgrim House across the street and joined my parents (who had not been present at any of these events), and Shoghi Effendi went to attend to his own affairs. At dinner-time, quite as usual, the Guardian appeared, showering his love and congratulations on my mother and father. He took the handkerchief, full of such precious flowers, and with his inimitable smile gave them to my mother, saying he had brought them for her from the inner Shrine of Bahá’u’lláh. My parents also signed the marriage certificate and after dinner and these events were over I walked home with Shoghi Effendi, my suitcases having been taken across the street by Fujita while we were at dinner. We sat for a while with the Guardian’s family and then went up to his two rooms which the Greatest Holy Leaf had had built for him so long ago.

The quietness, the simplicity, the reserve and dignity with which this marriage took place did not signify that the Guardian considered it an unimportant event — on the contrary. Over his mother’s signature, but drafted by the Guardian, the following cable was sent to America: “Announce Assemblies celebration marriage beloved Guardian. Inestimable honour conferred upon handmaid of Bahá’u’lláh Rúhíyyih Khánum Miss Mary Maxwell. Union of East and West proclaimed by Bahá’í Faith cemented. Ziaiyyih mother of Guardian.” A telegram similar to this was sent to Persia. This news, so long awaited, naturally produced great rejoicing amongst the Bahá’ís and messages flooded in to Shoghi Effendi from all parts of the world. To that received from the National Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada Shoghi Effendi replied: “Deeply moved your message. Institution Guardianship, head cornerstone Administrative Order Cause Bahá’u’lláh, already ennobled through its organic connection with Persons of Twin Founders Bahá’í Faith, is now further reinforced through direct association with West and particularly with American believers, whose spiritual destiny is to usher in World Order of Bahá’u’lláh. For my part desire congratulate community American believers on acquisition tie vitally binding them to so weighty an organ of their Faith.” To innumerable other messages his practically universal answer was merely an expression of loving appreciation for their felicitations. But even in these cables we find his reactions were always attuned to the quality and sincerity of the sender. When an individual whom he neither particularly liked nor trusted cabled his congratulations (in what appeared a wholly blameless manner), the Guardian expressed no appreciation but stated “praying for you Holy Shrines” as much as to say “I do not need your congratulations but you certainly are in need of my prayers”! One of the most touching exchanges of cables at that time took place between the Ishqabad Bahá’ís and the Guardian. Through an intermediary Shoghi Effendi cabled: “Kindly wire Ishqabad Bahá’ís greatly value message praying continually protection”. When John and Louise Bosch cabled him: “Illustrious nuptial thrilled the universe” the Guardian in his reply revealed a little of how deeply the loving messages that poured in stirred him: “Inexpressibly appreciative thrilling message deepest love”. Another particularly warm reply was sent to the Antipodes: “Assure loved ones Australia New Zealand profound abiding appreciation”.

The most significant point, however, associated with the Guardian’s marriage is the stress he laid on the fact that it had drawn the Occident and the Orient closer to each other. It had not only done this but other ties had also been reinforced and established. In reply to an inquiry from the American Assembly: “Request advice policy concerning announcement marriage” Shoghi Effendi stated: “Approve public announcement. Emphasize significance institution Guardianship union East West and linking destinies Persia America. Allude honour conferred British peoples” — a direct allusion to my Scots-Canadian father.

All this had such an effect on the American Community that its national body informed the Guardian it was sending $19 from each of its seventy-one American Assemblies “for immediate strengthening new tie binding American Bahá’ís to institution Guardianship” — truly a most unusual, purehearted wedding gift to the Cause itself!

The work of Shoghi Effendi, after our marriage, went on exactly as before. For over two months my parents stayed in Palestine, mostly at the Western Pilgrim House; although the Guardian went over almost every night for dinner with them, there was no opportunity for any deep personal intimacy to develop. At last the time came for them to leave and one day my mother said to me “Mary, do you think the Guardian will kiss me good-bye?” (although everyone referred to me by the new Persian name Rúhíyyih Khánum which the Guardian had given me, my own family were naturally allowed to call me Mary, the name they had used all my life). I had never thought of this and I repeated her remark to Shoghi Effendi, but of course did not ask him to do anything about it! My parents were leaving in the afternoon and after lunch the Guardian went alone to my mother’s room in the Pilgrim House to see her. When he had left I went to her room and she said, with her eyes shining like two stars, “he kissed me.”

The years passed and in 1940 my mother, animated by a passionate desire to render the Cause some service in thanks for the infinite blessings bestowed upon her by the Master, the last of which had been this totally unexpected union of her daughter with her beloved Guardian, decided to go to South America and help in teaching the Faith in Argentina, which was just beginning to form a Bahá’í community. The deep bond which developed between my father and Shoghi Effendi really began at this time. Although the Guardian had liked my father and had been drawn to his sterling qualities when he was in Haifa, there had been neither time nor opportunity to form an intimate relationship. Now, when my mother, who was seventy years old and had been in frail health most of her life, set out for the end of the world the Guardian sensed what this meant to her husband. He cabled him on 22 January 1940: “Profoundly appreciate noble sacrifice dearest love”. He cabled my mother that same day, when she was sailing, that he was “proud noble resolve”. The Guardian, my father and I had consented to this long journey, but at such an age, and with a heart very far from sound, it was a risk, to say the least.

The reason I record all these personal things is because behind them, in them, pervading them was the spirit of the Guardian and his tender heart, his own dedication to the service of the Cause, his impartial tributes as Head of the faith, which were all reflected in the events that followed. My mother reached Buenos Aires and died almost immediately of a heart attack. The three cables that came, one from her asking for his prayers, one from my father saying she was very ill and to prepare me, and one from my cousin Jeanne Bolles, who had accompanied her, saying she had died, were all handed by me to Shoghi Effendi. As he read them I saw his face change and he looked at me with an expression of intense anxiety and concern. Then of course, gradually, he had to tell me she was dead. I cannot conceive that any human being ever received such pure kindness as I did from the Guardian during that period of shock and grief. His praises of her sacrifice, his descriptions of her state of joy in the next world, where, as he said in his cable to the Iraq National Assembly informing the friends of her death, “the heavenly souls seek blessings from her in the midmost paradise”, his vivid depiction of her as she wandered about the Abhá Kingdom making a thorough nuisance of herself because all she wanted to talk about was her beloved daughter on earth! — all combined to lift me into a state of such happiness that many times I would find myself laughing with him over the things he seemed to be actually divining.

It was her death that really brought about the relationship between the Guardian and Sutherland Maxwell that raised him to the heights of service he was able to attain before he, too, passed away. On 2 March Shoghi Effendi cabled Daddy: “Grieve profoundly yet comforted abiding realization befitting end so noble career valiant exemplary service Cause Bahá’u’lláh. Rúḥíyyih though acutely conscious irreparable loss rejoices reverently grateful immortal crown deservedly won her illustrious mother. Advise interment Buenos Aires. Her tomb designed by yourself erected by me spot she fought fell gloriously will become historic centre pioneer Bahá’í activity. Most welcome arrange affairs reside Haifa. Be assured deepest loving sympathy.”

It was this message that brought my father to Haifa and enabled him, through his deep professional knowledge and experience, to become the instrument of fulfilling the plans of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá by designing a suitable superstructure around the Holy Tomb of the Bab which the Master Himself had commenced. During the war years, Shoghi Effendi, increasingly afflicted by the crisis in his relationship to the members of his family, developed an affection for and intimacy with Sutherland which compensated to some extent for all the sufferings we were going through. It is not easy to be the intimate of one infinitely above you in station and not lose, through familiarity, the respect and esteem due that exalted person. But my father never failed in this. Sometimes, when he had brought a new sketch to show Shoghi Effendi, and the Guardian was sitting in bed, propped up on his pillows looking at it, he would invite Daddy to come sit beside him so they could better go over the details together. One can imagine what it meant to me to see those two beloved heads so close, one white, the other going grey at the temples! Such fleeting moments of peace and family pleasure in the stormy atmosphere of our lives sweetened what was often a very bitter cup of woe.

When my father fell desperately ill in the winter of 1949-50 his condition was despaired of by his doctors. He reached a point where he seemed to have no conscious mind left, could not recognize me, his only and idolized child, at all, and had no more control over himself than if he were six months old. If I had needed any convincing on the subject of whether man has a soul or not I received conclusive proof of its existence at that time. When Shoghi Effendi would come in to see my father, although he could not speak, and gave no conscious sign whatever of the Guardian’s nearness, a flutter, a tremor, some reaction wholly ephemeral but nevertheless visible, would pass over him because of the very presence of Shoghi Effendi. It was so extraordinary and so evident that his nurse (the best in Haifa) also noticed it and was greatly puzzled by it. It went against all laws of the mind, which, as it fades, remembers the distant past more vividly than the immediate past. Shoghi Effendi was determined my father should not die. At his insistence, when no one, including me, had the slightest hope, we took him with his nurse to Switzerland, where he rapidly recovered under the care of our own doctor, a recovery so complete that a few weeks later, when his new Swiss nurse and I took him for his first drive and he caught sight of a cafe in the midst of a garden, he promptly invited us to go in and have tea with him — an offer I accepted with feelings of wonder and gratitude that are indescribable. It was after this healing had taken place that the Guardian, in a message to America sent in July 1950, reporting progress in the construction of the Shrine of the Bab, was moved to allude to these events: “My gratitude is deepened by the miraculous recovery of its gifted architect, Sutherland Maxwell, whose illness was pronounced hopeless by physicians.”

I often marvelled, during the years my father survived this illness which left him very frail and which manifested itself in recurring gall bladder attacks, one of which brought about his death, at the marvellous gentleness and patience Shoghi Effendi showed this old man. It was a revelation of another side of the Guardian’s nature, for by temperament he was impatient, always pressed by his never-ending work. There is no adjective to describe the degree to which my father adored him. His feelings were not only based on his deep faith as a Bahá’í, the respect and obedience he owed him as Guardian of his Faith, but also on his love for him as a man he profoundly admired in every way, and of course because of the personal human relationship which he felt very deeply. I remember when my father’s only living sister died in 1942, Shoghi Effendi told him that he must not consider Montreal his first home now, and this his second home, but vice versa. He also told him that now that he was increasingly helping him, he could not spare him. The attitude of Shoghi Effendi to my father’s non-Bahá’í relatives (only one sister, who had died many years before, had been a believer) was very indicative of his whole nature. I remember at the time of my marriage, when these relatives wrote their warm congratulations to me, they sent their love to “Shoghi”. I was a little embarrassed and undecided about how to convey this message to the Sign of God on earth, but finally decided I should do so and read him the passage from my aunt’s letter. He listened carefully and after a moment said in the sweetest way “convey my love to them too”. Throughout the years such messages were exchanged. How gracious, noble and unaffected he was in all his acts!

One of the ways Shoghi Effendi would show kindness to my father was by sometimes enthusiastically rubbing some attar of rose perfume on him. In the East there is no foolish prohibition against men using perfume and the Guardian was very fond of this wonderful fragrance. It was really worth seeing to watch the expression on my Scottish father’s face! He came of a background and a part of the world where the use of scent for men is anathema. He never even used a scented lotion. Alarm at the thought he was now going to smell very strongly, combined with pure joy at this loving attention being paid to him by his beloved Guardian, produced a most extraordinary expression on his face!

In 1951 the Guardian again decided to take my father to Switzerland with us; when the time came for our return to the Holy Land we were informed that the food situation was so difficult there that it would be practically impossible to give him the diet of strictly fresh things so essential to prevent a relapse in his health; he himself was anxious to visit his home and see his family after over eleven years of absence. The Guardian therefore decided to send him to Canada with his same devoted Swiss nurse who had cared for him the previous year and was now again with us. It was there, in his old home and the city of his birth, that the news of his elevation by the Guardian to the rank of Hand of the Cause reached him, at a time when his life was rapidly ebbing away.

There had truly been no room at all in the life of Shoghi Effendi for the ordeal which my father’s long illness, his recovery, the recurring attacks of his ailment and his final death imposed upon him. When news came in March 1952 that he was so ill I must hasten at once to Montreal if I hoped to see him alive, it was another terrible shock. As I prepared hastily to leave, my one prayer was that if he were going to die he would pass away before I left, so that I would not leave Shoghi Effendi in the midst of all his work only to be present at a time when my father would not even know I was there. This prayer was answered and news came that he had been released from this world. The grief of Shoghi Effendi was so intense that I had no time to stop and think that, after all, it was my own father who had died. I mention all this because it shows the factors involved in the life of the Guardian and the waves of feeling, of trial and misfortune that beat upon the very fabric of his heart and wore it away.

After Mrs Collins and I had attended the Intercontinental Conference held in Chicago in 1953, with the Guardian’s approval we went to Montreal so that I could visit my father’s grave, arrange my affairs and, in compliance with his and my mother’s wish, present the Canadian National Assembly with our house — the only home in Canada ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had visited during His travels in North America. Shoghi Effendi did not forget those he loved; his faithfulness in all his relationships was very strong. After himself cabling to the Bahá’í Assembly of Montreal, he cabled to me the following on 9 May 1953: “Instructed Montreal Assembly gather friends grave Sutherland pay tribute memory. Advise place blossoms Shrine also purchase hundred dollars choicest flowers mostly blue cover grave my behalf. Attach following inscription grateful memory Sutherland Maxwell Hand Cause talented dearly loved architect superstructure Báb’s sepulchre Shoghi. Bring copies large size photograph friends assembled grave. Cable date time gathering for remembrance Shrine”. The thing that was most touching is that he should have not only given me in Haifa a vial of attar of rose to sprinkle on the grave, and flowers from the threshold of the Shrine of the Báb to place there, but should specify that he wanted me to buy for him mostly blue flowers, remembering that blue was the colour Sutherland always wore. When I returned to Haifa Shoghi Effendi took the many photographs I had brought, looked at them a long time, and kept them for himself.

Chapter 8

Intimate Glimpses

In seeking to convey even a glimpse of what the beloved Guardian’s life was like — the side of his life so little known to anyone but his immediate family — I have decided to quote some excerpts from my own diaries. It must be borne in mind that these were not regularly kept throughout the years, were, like most diaries, only a sketchy picture of events that would have taken hours to record in detail and in later years were practically given up entirely by me owning to lack of strength and time. The references to people in them are not cited for any individual reason but just because they happen to be woven into the background, at that moment, of something going on in Shoghi Effendi’s daily life. There is something about the words written down in moments of deep feeling or keen observation that is never quite recovered when one goes over them later on; it is to recapture this feeling of urgency, of poignancy, that I have ventured to publish these few quotations, making no attempt at elaboration or explanation, just lifting the veil a little on an ocean of daily work and sorrow.

[1939] “I sometimes feel that this intense objectiveness of Shoghi Effendi is one of the factors God has endowed him with. He is an absolutely unselfconscious instrument. His impulses are violent and no one (I mean no disinterested observer) could doubt the tremendous achievements of his for the Cause, all carried out on these unhesitating impulses. That is all his decisions — but of course he revolves things for weeks, sometimes years in his mind before acting. All the thought in the world is there but when he feels the urge he never waits five seconds!”

[1939] “The Master gave us a Trust. That Trust is the Guardian. He said ‘that no dust of despondency may stain his radiant nature.’ Dust of despondency! he has been so abused and tortured by those who should have sustained and encouraged him that his radiant nature is as rare as rare can be now. Sometimes I see it like a sun in his dear face shining through — he suffers so much that many times he has to go to bed because of it, literally prostrated!”

[1939] He suffered: “so often and so inordinately in connection with sending the community away from Haifa.”

[8-8-39] “Got up at six today and went to get us the necessary visas (always providing we can get out of Switzerland) and have been on the road just 18 hours! And this is not the first day of rushing… and this is typical of my life. No time for anything…”

[6-9-39] “Back in the Middle East…an utterly exhausting trip, most of the time without sleepers. One night we slept an hour and a half! It does not seem real at all that war has come to the world. Passing through blackened towns — seeing troop trains moving up — waiting to hear the radio news…Shoghi Effendi’s way has been opened as it always will be — the scene seemed to crash behind us, but we were safely through.”

[5-10-39] “He says he feels like a broken reed. No doubt partly due to his having been very ill for ten days with an awful fever — a few times reaching 104 degrees! Z__ and I have nursed him day and night and to say we have been through a kind of hell is no exaggeration. To be alone with the Guardian so ill and a strange doctor was such a strain and responsibility! I think we slept at most 4 hours a night for a week!”

[22-1-40] “The Guardian and the Cause are invulnerable. I often long to say to the Bahá’ís ‘follow him through hell or heaven, dark or light, life or death, blindly or seeing, cleave to him, he is your only salvation.’ Tonight a man came here. He entered the house a Bahá’í. He left it a Covenant-Breaker. (He refused to obey the Guardian flatly.) He stood a long time at the gate. I wanted to cry out to him ‘Do you leave your soul behind so easily?’ After all these years, reared in the Faith, he throws it away so lightly! And what else has life to offer man except his soul? And the most precious gift of God he drops by the wayside because it is inconvenient and difficult to obey at the moment…If the friends only knew how the Master and Guardian both suffered through the calibre of the local Bahá’ís. Some of them were good. But some were rotten. It’s as if, when someone was unsound in the Covenant, they attacked the very body of the Manifestation, or the Exemplar, or the Guardian. I have seen this. It is like poison. He recovers from it, but it causes him untold suffering and it was from such things that the Master described Himself in His Will as ‘this broken winged bird.’ It is profoundly organic. It has nothing to do with sentiment at all.”

[Remark of Shoghi Effendi] “You cannot be a hero without action. This is the touchstone. Not movement, coming and going, but in the evidences of your character. Jacky [Marion Jack] is a heroine because of her conduct, the heroic spirit reveals itself in her. Martha [Martha Root] had the heroic action. She went ‘til she dropped.”

[Remarks of Shoghi Effendi] “The object of life to a Bahá’í is to promote the oneness of mankind”; “Our aim is to produce a world civilization which in turn will react on the character of the individual.”

[Remark of Shoghi Effendi] “I know it is a road of suffering. I have to tread this road ’til the very end. Everything has to be done through suffering.”

[2-1-42] “He says maybe this is not the last war before the Lesser Peace, perhaps there will be a stalemate, or a truce, and then it will burst out again, or continue, worse than ever before. Of course he is not dogmatic in this belief, he just says ‘Maybe, it is quite possible.’”

[5-1-42] “They [the family] have all gotten out of tune with the all-pervading melody of this house — the Guardian — and consequently cannot possibly adjust themselves as Bahá’ís when the main thing is dislocated.”

[7-1-42] “All this causes the Guardian agony. I am really concerned about his heart. Last night it was beating so fast, far, far too fast! And sometimes, for hours almost, he breathes heavily and quickly from being so upset…there is something in the Guardian like a barometer. It registers your spiritual pressure, so to speak; nothing outward would explain how it is he gets so upset sometimes over a thing he does not yet know! I have seen this happen loads of times. He reacts instinctively and immediately. Often, later, the cause comes to light and one sees a glimpse of the workings of it all. In the end it will kill him. How and when no doubt will be according to the wisdom of God. He will always be triumphant — as he always has been. But gradually, little by little, the incessant problems, the eternal struggle, first with one and then another member of the family, are wearing him down. He is bent. His heart is nervous. His nerves are exhausted…”

[16-3-42] “They [the Master’s family] have gone a long way to crushing every ounce of spirit out of the Guardian. By nature he is cheerful and energetic and has a unique and marvellous brightness of nature that is capable of making him fairly scintillate when he is happy or enthused over something. But the perpetual strife of life with the Master’s family, the blows he has sustained in the course of being Guardian, (from various crises in the Cause)…have all clouded over…him. Whenever, (during the last 5 years I have been able to observe him), he has begun to brighten, someone would come along and plump down some weight of care or misery on him and that would be that! It is criminal! How many times I have heard him say: ‘If I were only happy, if they would only make me happy, you would see what I would do for this Cause!’ He is like a spring. Every time it begins to bubble and flow, something comes along and plugs it up again! When one realizes that all the work he has done for the Cause has been in spite of his sufferings and persecutions, and never because he was free and happy and at rest within himself, one realizes how great the accomplishment is and also one wonders what it might have been if he had been happy. Shoghi Effendi has been abused. That is the only word for it, abused, abused, abused. By now he has reached the point of a man fighting with his back to the wall. He says he will fight it out to the last round…”

[20-3-42] As Shoghi Effendi sat working on God Passes By two army fighter planes in practice flight touched wings, lost control and crashed, one coming down over the roof of our house so low I thought it would sheer through the ceiling of Shoghi Effendi’s room. It landed and burst into flames not 100 yards away at the foot of the street.

[26-4-42] “Shoghi Effendi has been talking to me about his own miseries. He says those around Him killed ‘Abdu’l-Bahá as they killed Bahá’u’lláh — he even says ‘They will kill me too.’ He told me that Haji Ali told him that a few days before His ascension Bahá’u’lláh called him to His room (to speak to him about something or other). He kept pacing back and forth. He was too upset to speak and finally dismissed Haji Ali with a gesture. Haji Ali could see how angry He was though He did not tell Haji Ali why. Then the Guardian said Bahá’u’lláh must have suffered terribly as He could of course foresee how Muḥammad ‘Alí would turn against the Master in the future. But He kept it all within Him.”

[18-5-42] “Shoghi Effendi says so often the Master would tell them (His family) that after Him they ‘would all be abased.’”

[4-7-42] “Then there is the invasion of Egypt. He is wondering which is worse — to stay or to go, that is if things get very bad here. This indecision is very trying. But the truth is we are so used to trouble that it almost ceases to trouble us!”

[3-1-43] “Anyone who knew the true story of Shoghi Effendi’s life would weep — weep for his goodness, weep for his pure, simple heart, weep for his labours and his cares, weep for the long, long years in which he has toiled ever more alone, ever more persecuted by those around him!

“Just the other day he came into my room, all upset over his work. I asked him why he did not read books by other authors of a similar nature to the one he is writing [it was God Passes By] so as to be stimulated…He said: ‘I have no time, no time. For twenty years I have had no time!’”

[30-1-43] “I am really worried over Shoghi Effendi. When he used to get so very distressed and upset in the past it affected him, but not as it does now. Sometimes I think it will lead to his premature death… he breathes so hard, almost like one who has been running, and he has such huge shadows under his eyes. He forces himself to go on and finish the letters he has had piled for days on his desk — but he reads a thing sometimes ten minutes over and over because he can’t concentrate! I think no suffering is worse than seeing someone you love suffer. And I can’t remedy it. All I wonder is how God can stand to see him suffer so.”

[29-11-43] “Although the summer was peaceful in the sense there were no horrible crises…I don’t think the Guardian ever worked so hard during his ‘vacation’ before, and I am sure I didn’t! He often says ‘this book is killing me’ to which I invariably answer ‘me too’. In other words the way he has worked on this Centennial Review [God Passes By] is really cruel; for two years he has literally slaved over it — along with all his other work and cares…” [Shoghi Effendi had received a particularly dry and feelingless letter from a National Assembly and I was angry over this] “…the driest, coldest letters I have ever seen. Why doesn’t he learn from the Guardian who writes people that even are mentally deficient with loving kindness? The Bahá’ís don’t deserve a Guardian and all I hope is God will not change them for another people.”

One of the family had died and the widow came to the house and wanted Shoghi Effendi to accept the terms of his Will and receive money for the Cause, also to receive from her the extremely precious seals of Bahá’u’lláh entrusted to her care by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá when He went on His travels to the West. As she was in contact with the excommunicated members of the family Shoghi Effendi would accept neither…I reported to him her conversation (he would not see her, but had sent me in his place):

[26-12-43] “All of this I repeated to Shoghi Effendi at great length and brought him the seals and the Will of __. He said to tell her he did not want a million seals of the whole of Mt. Carmel, he wanted sincerity and loyalty and that unless she cut herself entirely from __’s family…in her heart, he could do nothing for her, and to keep the seals and the Will…the Guardian would have liked very much to have had the seals — so precious — for the Archives, but, as he told me, he could not very well take the seals and put her out of the house! The thing that puzzles me is that it is now 23 years since the Master died, couldn’t she once during those 23 years, many of which she was very close to the Guardian, give him those precious relics which she says were never given her but only entrusted to her! She wanted me to take them when she saw the Guardian would not accept them but I said I would not do that as it would not be Shoghi Effendi’s wish that I should do so….”

“All day Shoghi Effendi types his manuscript [God Passes By] and I read the copy before mailing it to Horace [Horace Holley, Secretary of the American National Assembly] to be sure the last mistakes are ironed out, and he and I spend hours reading the original and correcting the pages and putting in the interminable accents!

“I have not even recorded that Daddy, at the Guardian’s request, has made a design for the Shrine of the Báb. Today the minarets or spires (suggested by the Guardian) met with his approval and Dad is to go ahead and work out the details and a final drawing can be unveiled or shown on the Centenary and also provide for a model. The model will be the crucial test — if the Guardian likes it he will announce to the Bahá’í world the plan.

“It seems too utterly marvelous that Daddy should be given this inestimable blessing of designing the Báb’s Shrine. If he succeeds it will be the purest bounty of God and if it is not to be we cannot be surprised for we have already been blessed far beyond our desserts in every possible way as a family!”

[5-7-44] “Shoghi Effendi is by nature an administrator and builder, par excellence. The two things we need most just now. How petty man’s vision of things compared to God’s Plan! I think if we praised God a million years, morning, noon and night, we would not get beyond the first ‘T’ of thanks! — and yet we are so blind to our blessings!”

[24-7-44] “Shoghi Effendi cannot stand much more. I am very worried over him…they are wearing him away. He was in a terrible condition today and wept. I cannot write about it. I can’t stand it! I wonder how God can endure to see him so.”

[18-12-44] “These are certainly the years. I don’t think Shoghi Effendi will ever face a second crisis like this in his lifetime [the disaffection of family, local community and servants]. I hope not! I am wondering how his health and nerves can be expected to survive this one!”

[30-1-45] “I can’t go into details now but I must say the degree on incompetent fools — if not rascals — Shoghi Effendi has around him is appalling. He suffers so much! He only sleeps 5 or 6 hours a night. If I could worry any more I would…”

[27-2-45] “I feel sure the tide will turn. But oh never, never to find Shoghi Effendi as he was! I don’t think anything in this world will ever be able to efface what these last years have done to him! Time is a great healer of wounds but it cannot remove scars.”

[13-4-45] “…Whenever I want to be sure how loyal a Bahá’í is to him [Shoghi Effendi] I look around and see who hates him — if he is well hated by the family I can be quite sure he is the essence of loyalty to the Guardian!”

[6-7-45] “Ali Askar went to the hospital…he has declined terribly the last 3 or 4 days…all this is so wearing. But I don’t mind anything except to see the great blow this is to the Guardian…they don’t die, nor do so many other wretched useless enemies — only Ali Askar. As Shoghi Effendi said the ‘most precious’ person he has! But God will help him. He will, He will, I know He will. He will raise him up in glory — and I was thinking last night that after all one drop of God’s love can compensate for a thousand years of pain…Shoghi Effendi went to see him while I was there today. He is now planning a bang-up funeral for him because he (Shoghi Effendi) desires it and because the enemies require it. But all this is so hard, so hard for him…Shoghi Effendi said ‘All I had left was you and your father and Ali Askar and now God takes Ali Askar!’”

[8-7-45] “I went up to the hospital at 4 p.m. and stayed ’til 8. Shoghi Effendi told me to tell Ali Askar he had revealed a telegram about him for the Persian friends in which he described him as the ‘lion of the jungle of the love of God’ and mentioned all his long services, etc. When I told this to Ali Askar — who was fully conscious only very weak — the cutest little tickle of a smile of happiness went over his face…I told him he had gone to heaven before leaving this world — the heaven of the Guardian’s love, good-pleasure and praise. He kept silent for some time (except for some signs of muttered appreciation) and then, evidently perfectly grasping the fact that such a telegram meant that he is going to die, collected himself and said the book he had ordered…he wanted…given from him to Shoghi Effendi…When I came and reported all about Ali Askar to Shoghi Effendi and said how he wanted the book bound for the Guardian, his eyes filled with tears! Poor beloved Shoghi Effendi he is the most abused man on earth! Everyone should rejoice over Ali Askar — he died like a king….Today he told the women — he called them to the drawing room — that Ali Askar had served in such a manner that in the end the pilgrims wrote him and signed themselves ‘the servant of the servant of the house’! He said he was like the words in the Tablet of Ahmad — a river of life to the loved ones and a flame of fire to the enemies. Then as he left he said ‘He is in the Supreme Concourse, conversing with its inmates’! Well, what more does any man want of this life? Then he went to the Shrine this afternoon and after visiting told __ to bring all the flowers from both thresholds. He went in alone to Ali Askar, anointed him with two bottles of attar of rose, laid the flowers on his body — wept for him — what does any man want of this world more than that!…Shoghi Effendi told me something so touching when he came back last night, that when he was alone with the body he remembered ‘How that man had served me!’, that… he went and pulled down the sheet and looked at him and he said he wanted to say ‘Ali Askar wake up, get up!’ because it seemed he could not be dead, he looked so natural…”

[11-7-45] “The funeral was perfect. Shoghi Effendi spoke of him; then he called for the coffin to be brought up to the upper room of the Pilgrim House, where he sits; then he and all stood for the Prayer for the Dead; then he sprinkled attar of rose on it; then raised it; then followed it to the door, gave instructions and seated the first two taxis…a twenty-five car funeral…then they all left and Shoghi Effendi visited the Shrine and had __ gather all the flowers and take them from the threshold to the grave…Well Ali Askar must be in Seventh Heaven — everyone is sighing and wishing they were he! — including me.”

[14-7-45] “Now Shoghi Effendi is ill. He has had an attack of indigestion from, I should say, utterly exhausted over-strained nerves. It is not the first time he has it either. The wonder is he is alive…and he has a fever now — I hope to God he has not got something serious …I just took his temperature — it’s 103-3/5!”

[15-7-45] “I am so tired of the frights Dr. __ gives me! Now he says this may be appendicitis and dysentery, visions of rushing madly to Jerusalem in an ambulance [there was then no surgeon we could trust so precious a patient to in Haifa] with Shoghi Effendi and Dad — but I can’t believe it will come to that…just rush, rush, and as to the worry my brain feels just transfixed!…every hour I take his temperature. He is so sweet — what a crime he has been so treated by those around him…thank God I don’t think he has or will get appendicitis…”

[17-7-45] “Better, but ah so nervous and tired!…”

[20-7-45] “I wouldn’t wish on the devil the sufferings Shoghi Effendi and I pass through. I could never describe them — mental and nervous anguish …alone…work, work, work, all day long. Buying land, problems, letters, questions, mischief, ill-will, suspicion, ad infinitum.”

[11-4-46] “Shoghi Effendi told Dad to set plans in motion for building the first unit of the Shrine — Hallelujah!”

[20-4-46] “…It is all too much for the Guardian…and yet he has written a marvelous Convention cable with a new Seven Year Plan and is starting on the Shrine. But he suffers too much, too much!”

[25-5-46] “Shoghi Effendi and I have no one left now but Daddy [and two loyal Bahá’ís, one almost 80], he is everything and does everything: he attends to all the banking, mails all the letters, sends all the telegrams, does all the errands that are confidential — for visas, Government matters, City Hall, etc. — and consults and designs, etc., all at the age of 71. He is doing the work of Ali Askar, Riaz and Hussein. He never complains…Shoghi Effendi and I have been talking about our plans; he says we must go…it seemed so terribly hard to have to leave Daddy, old and tired once again, with all the work of the Cause and no rest or respite. But when I talked to him about it today he was marvelous, said he can manage everything, not to worry over him, that everything will be all right. I can’t put it into words, being so very tired (I’ve had 3 good cries today) how wonderful his spirit is, so unassuming, yet so noble and heroic.”

[18-7-47] “She [Gladys Anderson] arrived on the 30th of March…She does all Daddy’s work now, thank Heaven!…she does banking affairs, sends mail and cables, runs errands, sees people…The end of April Daddy went to Cyprus — first vacation in 7 years — and spent 6 weeks. It did him a lot of good and now he is starting on the working drawings of the Shrine of the Báb.”

[12-2-48] [From a letter of Rúḥíyyih Rabbani] “I used to be able to get a Jewish stenographer to help me but now no Jew will come to this street if he can help it as it is in the Arab part of town. That is, it is in the old German colony and in our neighborhood are mostly Arabs and English people. It may seem unbelievable to you to think that we live in a street where a man could be murdered in cold blood just for walking down it, but that is Palestine today. Of course there are a few brave fatalists who take a chance and come down ninety miles an hour, but they are considered foolhardy to say the least.

“It is all so tragic. And saddest of all is the way the human mind adapts itself to such an atmosphere. Where once a gun shot would have made your blood run cold and filled you with indignation, you soon, from endless repetition, just get used to it, curse whoever is doing it and the other side too, for good measure, and go on about your business. Later you hear who and how was shot by those bullets. It’s really disgusting, unspeakably disgusting, that such a condition in the Holy Land should have been allowed to develop through intrigue and negligence…

“Rage is my primary emotion these days. The senseless wanton murder infuriates me. Most people want nothing more than to be left alone. The bloodthirsty are the exception, not the rule. But they do exist, alas. Why doesn’t someone shoot them? They always shoot the wrong people, in all fighting, as far as I can see!”

[1-3-48] “Arms are sold openly in Arab quarters. The Bahá’ís here, in Akka, from Tiberius, etc., all testify to this…. Hassan said he and his cousin Muhammad were sitting in a cafe in Tiberius; they heard a boy hawking, he was crying ‘Grenade, grenade!’ Hassan could not believe his ears so he called him over and asked him what he was selling? He said bombs. He had a sack on his back. This he obligingly dumped on the ground and unloaded a pile of hand grenades! (Mills bombs) ‘How much are they each?’ asked Hassan. ‘Seventy-five piastres’ said the peddler! Needless to say he did not buy…I saw a man from my own bedroom window a few days ago with a revolver in his hand and a crowd of Arabs around him. He wanted to make sure it was working so he came over to our garden wall, fired two shots at it, and headed off for the town, probably to do his bit of murder.”

[11-4-48] “Dad and Ben [Ben Weeden, Gladys Anderson’s husband] left in an armoured taxi for Tel Aviv! They are supposed to go by plane on the 13th from Lydda on to Rome to place contracts for the Shrine columns and ornamentation if possible.”

“Gladys will now sleep over at this house…so we can have her near us as the shooting is too much for her to be all alone in the Pilgrim House at night…Besides it is dangerous for anyone to come and go across the street after dark…we told Ben we would bring her over here, so he won’t worry.”

[21-4-48] “We could not visit Bahjí owing to circumstances and visited the Shrine here. Afterwards the car could not get up to the Gardens or leave them, rather, because of the shooting on the road and its being closed off. So Shoghi Effendi walked home down the steps near the Gardens and so did Gladys and I.”

[23-4-48] “As I am tired unto death this will be short…The battle of Haifa is something well reported, I guess, everywhere, so I will only report my days and nights. The battle itself was constant and real war. That night for me it was like sleeping at the bottom of a stagnant pool which someone constantly was stirring. I was so tired I did sleep sometimes, but then dream and firing and bombs became all one torpid mixture which was almost worse than sleeping or waking. All these days Shoghi Effendi has been frightfully upset with the A__, with M__ and about other problems.”

[25-4-48] “I am still trying to get to the main point of this memorandum: On the 23rd, the day after the battle for Haifa, Dr. Weinshall [the Guardian’s lawyer] phoned me and asked how we were? I said we were all well and keeping at home. He said ‘I hope you are not leaving?’ I said of course not, we have no intention of leaving, why should we leave? He said no reason on earth, he was glad to hear it. Then I said, we know the Jews and the Jews know us, we have nothing to fear from them. He said that was certainly true and that all had the greatest respect for us. He also asked if any of our servants were leaving and I said no, of course not. Then after a little mutual exchange of thought on how foolish the mass exodus of the Arabs was he asked me to give his very kindest regards to Shoghi Effendi. When the Guardian heard this he told me to go and thank him and tell him he felt he wanted him to know something for his own information and then I told him all about Monib’s marriage to Jamal Husseini’s daughter, etc. He was very surprised and wrote down his and Hassan’s name. I also told him about Ruhi being out and that as he might have wondered at the dissension in our own family the real reason was not only religious but on grounds of political affiliations and so on. I told him we would send him (this was yesterday in another conversation) the cable, the Guardian sent, for him to see it…”

“Today I again phoned Weinshall and told him that we wanted to give him the names of those people who had no claim on us if they pretended to be Bahá’ís. I said Shoghi Effendi naturally resents very much that people who for ten or fifteen years have been put out of our community…should now seek to make good their relation to the Jews by claiming to be Bahá’ís, when we ourselves don’t know what they have been doing all these years.”

[27-4-48] “Yesterday we had a moment of mad excitement as suddenly the maid rushed up and knocked and said the Haganah wanted to get in. Fortunately I was dressed…and went down as quickly as I could for it seemed first our dumb bunny…went to the door, when she saw a gang of Jews with tommy guns and revolvers she nearly had a fit and went to call Banu, Banu came and the Jews said ‘Open the door’, she said she had to call the lady of the house and meantime was rushing looking for B___ who was not there and then to call me and they said ‘If you don’t open it we’ll break it in!’ At this juncture I arrived and immediately let them in. They were five, all young men. I asked if they spoke English and one said he spoke a little. I asked him if he knew whose house this was, the Head of the Bahá’í Community, and he said yes, but somehow I think they did not know and were attracted there for one of two reasons, either because shortly before a truck load of Arabs stopped for a while in front of our door and they thought we had Arabs here or because of our car for one of their first questions was ‘Whose car is that in the garage?’ When I told them they were satisfied. It turned out one of them spoke Persian as he said his mother was a Persian though he was from ‘Yerushalim’ so I talked to him in Persian all the time. They did not seem keen on searching the house, were very decent and polite and told me, at first, not to be afraid to which I replied I certainly was not! After a very brief look about, and refusing to go downstairs or into the kitchen etc., they left….

“Gladys and I go and come, as we have been doing uninterruptedly for months, in good times and in bad, to the Jewish quarter. I think this has been very wise, though when all the Arabs were sniping the Jews and we had our own Arab guards here in this very street, it was a risky thing to do and we went less often, but we went. This has shown the many Jews who know us that we are not fair weather friends who stay away the moment it gets ticklish. Our car was always searched each time by Jewish guards and often, to those who did not know us, we had to show our American passports. Indeed one day last week, as we came back from the Jewish quarter and slowed down at the barrier a Jewish car shot in front of us and began to talk to the guards. We could not get by and he did not move so I asked the guard if he could not pull forward. He was a little embarrassed and said that they say they have seen this car with an Arab driving it. I said ‘That is quite true, do you know whose car it is? It belongs to Shoghi Effendi the Head of the Bahá’í Faith and we have an Arab taxi driver who comes every afternoon and drives him up to the Bahá’í Gardens and back home, otherwise we always drive it ourselves. If you watch, in a quarter of an hour you will see this same car come by on Mountain Road going to get him with the Arab driving it.’ As this was the truth he seemed to recognize it as such and we had no more trouble….

“B___ told me something amusing: I asked if our Arab neighbours were going….He said every day they ask me ‘Is Shoghi Effendi leaving?’ They say when he does they will. He said the Palestine policeman now living in K___’s house asked him when he should go and K___ told him: ‘When you see Shoghi Effendi leave, grab your coat, lock the door and follow him!’ The man also said…‘If you don’t tell me Shoghi Effendi is planning to go, if he does, you are responsible for my life.’ The sudden esteem in which our neighbours hold us is rather funny after 25 years ignoring the Cause and the Guardian!”

[4-5-48] “Today the car was stolen! [A gift to Shoghi Effendi from Roy Wilhelm. The Guardian had had no car for years as the old one was sold during the war owing to no spare parts.] My God what a day! At 2:30, as Gladys and I sat over our coffee at lunch, the girl came and said a Jew was at the door. Gladys went to see what he wanted. To make a long story short he was our local Haganah chief, Mr. Friedman, with about 20 armed men, who said they had been called by the Haganah Guard (2 are on duty in our street) as 5 armed men were hovering about our garage door and when he pointed his revolver at them and said to get going they turned their guns on him and told him to move fast so 5 to 1 he went for help. They had had a jeep and when the reinforcement got back they were gone. But although the padlock on our door was sawn through the door was closed from the inside so they thought it was still there. I looked through the keyhole and what a ghastly emptiness — no Buick! Poor Gladys rushed around to the little door at the back and, indeed, no Buick! The Haganah Guard implied Jews had taken it (or English) but would not say it outright. Well Friedman notified the Haganah. Gladys and Mansoor notified the army and Stanton St. Police. I phoned Dr. Weinshall who advised us to go to the Hadar Hacarmel Police Station. Shoghi Effendi was calmer than anyone else, only said ‘How it will rejoice my enemies!’ I guess none of us hoped to really see the car again — but how sad it was to have our big lovely Buick, just received after so long a time, gone! With some difficulty I got a Jewish taxi for the Guardian. The driver said ‘If Jews have taken your car you’ll get it back again!’ I went with Gladys to the Police station and waited outside while she made a report, then we left for Weinshall a description of the car as he had said to give him one so he could help. Then our nice taxi driver took us to another Haganah place and we again reported. Then a strange thing happened! We were walking home tired and dispirited, and in the window of a cosmetic shop on Herzl Street she saw a hand lotion I had tried several times to get. I thought I would not bother, but then I decided to get it and went in. The proprietor has known Dad and me for years so he asked about Daddy and I enquired about his old father, etc. I was not going to say anything about the car as I felt humiliated about it but after paying for my things I started out without them. That looked so foolish that I apologized and said ‘I am very upset because our car has just been stolen!’ The man said ‘But I saw your car today at about 2:15 in the new Business Center! And I was surprised because I wondered how you could sell such a beautiful new car!’ It seems he had seen Gladys and me driving by the day before and remembered the car vividly and the U.S. license plates! He said Jews had been in it and a Jew driving it and it was just around the corner from the Savoy Hotel. He also said please not to give his name as a witness, but I said then it won’t help us, so he weakened and said we could. Of course we rushed back to the police station and reported what he had said and when I got home I found Mr. Friedman had left his number for me so I called him and told him and he said ‘That’s all I need to know. Now I know they brought it into our part of town I can get them!’ Some time later the Hadar Police Station called and said ‘Your car has been located and you will get it back tomorrow so don’t worry.’ Mr. Friedman also phoned and said the same thing, and sure enough, about 11 a.m. the 4th he phoned and said he could come get Gladys to get the car and she drove up to Hadar Police Station and got it! My Goodness, we were all happy! The funny thing is, on our way home, before going to that store I had been saying only a miracle could get it back!

“But it now seems that the 5 young armed Jews (written of separately) who came here just after the Jews took Haifa, and who claimed to be Haganah men, and the young fellows in a jeep (the jeep appears all along the line so I think it forms a connecting link) who B___ one night found trying to break into the garage and he told them he would open it, they need not break the door in, and they went in and circled the car and he finally said ‘If you want to know all about whose car this is come and phone your superiors, come phone Dr. Weinshall’ and then they hastily departed — anyway we all now believe they were always the same men and probably Irgun Zvi Leumi men, certainly not Haganah!”

[14-5-48] “Tonight the Mandate ends at midnight! War starts, is raging already, what does the future hold?…Daddy and Ben are supposed get back tomorrow! I am tired!”

[15-5-48] “Dad comes home! I could hear heavy fire in the hills between here and Nakura, the Lebanese frontier. yesterday too, when the Jews took Akka, we heard heavy firing, but now all the time the rattle of machine guns is clearly audible. It reminds me of the days when the British took the Lebanon during the war — only then we were sure the battle would go away from us. Now, who knows? And the distances in Palestine are so tiny — ten miles can change the whole course of a battle, success or defeat…

“Dad and Ben, met by Gladys, got up to the house by 1:30 p.m. They came on the S.S. Argentina, got here last night, two days ahead of schedule as they skipped both Alexandria and Tel Aviv. Their trip has been marvelously successful in every way. How can one ever thank God for His miracles and mercies?”

[3-7-48] “Today, as Shoghi Effendi said to Daddy who had come over this evening to see him after dinner, ‘Well, the historic decision to commence work on the Shrine has been taken at 10:15 (p.m.) today!’ and he shook hands with him!… P.S. 11:30 p.m. I can hear explosions in the distance. God help this poor country!”

[6-7-48] “Shoghi Effendi is greatly concerned that maybe on Friday war will start again. What a terrible prospect. As he told Ben and Gladys and me the worst threat is to the Shrine of Bahá’u’lláh. Now that Majdi-d-din and Shoah Bahá’í are living in the Mansion — if the Arabs come, the consequences are only too clear — oh dear, so many burdens, so many problems…if it were not for faith where would we be?

“He praised Dad very highly to Ben and Gladys, said everyone loves him, he has a very pure heart and that aside from all that he chose him for his qualifications as an architect.”

[12-28-48] “I feel so exhausted. I don’t seem this year to have any resistance left to life…it feels serious, but maybe it is not. I hope not, for poor as I am, I am still needed, still better than nothing…

“Tonight Solel Boneh’s bid came in for building the Arcade £18,000. Terrible! Shoghi Effendi is very distressed and discouraged; now the stones are here and coming; he has torn up the tiling, put in the foundation, torn down the curve of the mountain behind the Shrine! He says he will not pay anywhere near this price — oh dear! So many problems, problems. God give me strength to serve and keep my poor nerves going — ”

[20-1-49] “This will be a sort of short-hand noting of news. The weather has been foul — just when we have 80 odd cases still in the port to take up to the Shrine. I just can’t sleep for listening to the rain. It wakes me up because I know it is delaying the work…just one thing after another all the time. We all seem to run faster and faster this year, owing to the Shrine work.”

[21-1-49] “What a day, what a day. Days like this should be against the law. Last night an invitation to meet the Prime Minister at the Municipal Reception was received by the Guardian. He decided to send Daddy and Ben. Today the loading at the port, after four days rain, was to begin again. It has all been bedlam…

“Just now, at four fifteen, the Mayor phones me in person and says he has ‘done his duty’ and arranged for the Guardian to call on Ben Gurion at 7:15 tonight at Mr. D___’s house on the top of the mountain…It may all seem like nothing on paper — but it just about kills those who live through it all. Everything here is done the hard way. But I am very glad the Guardian is going to meet the Prime Minister. Last night, when he decided it would be very inappropriate to go himself to the reception, he told me he would be willing to make a concession and call on the Prime Minister himself, but not be lost in a crowd or not to be treated as befits his position. So I begged him to let me phone the Mayor and he did and this is the result.

“It is now 7 o’clock and the Guardian and Daddy, driven by Ben have just left…As Shoghi Effendi has been trying for twenty-five years to get the Cause here to be recognized as not a local community but a world centre, and he not a local or national head, but a world head, this opportunity to meet the Prime Minister is very important. No doubt Ben Gurion feels he is being very condescending — if only he knew what an honour is being conferred on him and how condescending God is being to him tonight! Such is the smallness of men’s lives and the vanity of the world.

“Well, the interview is over. Lasted about 15 minutes. When they got there the Guardian found the front door ajar, he went in, saw no one, knocked on the door, went further and found Ben Gurion and wife and host finishing their dessert in one of these small houses where alcoves divide the rooms…Ben Gurion got up and took the Guardian into the neighbouring…room and courteously offered him the best seat, and so on. Then he asked some questions about the Cause, said he knew about it, that it is a ‘social movement’, whereupon the Guardian said it was much more than that, divinely inspired from God, etc. He put it not too strongly. Ben Gurion also asked his exact relation to the Faith and was told.

“The Guardian did not want to keep him from his dinner and after a short interview rose to go. Ben Gurion took him to the outer door and a servant to the car and opened the door….

“Ben Gurion asked the Guardian if there was a history of the Cause he could read and Shoghi Effendi said he would be pleased to send him a book. [He sent him God Passes By.] He also said he would be happy to show him the Shrines if ever he had the opportunity, but the Prime Minister said he was terribly busy, which can be taken as a refusal, I guess…It was obviously very courteous of a man as rushed as Ben Gurion two days before the general election, to fit an interview in and I think it was a really friendly act on Mayor Levy’s part to arrange it. The first thing the Guardian said was that he wished to reaffirm in person the sentiments he had expressed in his letter which the Prime Minister remembered receiving. Ben Gurion said yes, of course,…The Guardian was very warm to him, he told me, and I am sure his wonderfully clear, sincere and frank personality must have impressed a man who must be a shrewd judge of human nature…”

[8-2-48] “At 3 in the morning the lighter sank with all our stones on it! Just one more nice happening. When I told Shoghi Effendi he said ‘I don’t care anymore!’ He is just too used to it, too tired out by one problem after another! This was all that remained — as far as we can see! The weather, the eternal complications, and now this! They can salvage it — so I hear.”

[11-2-48] “Shoghi Effendi is almost all day, every day, up in the Gardens due to the excavations behind the Shrine, etc., which he is directing personally to economize.”

[5-4-49] “Shoghi Effendi saw Gladys and Ben (and me) in the drawing room, as he does sometimes when he has time. I saw he had mud on his coat and asked what he had been doing? He said ‘I had a fight with General Mud, only he won!’ Then he explained he had fallen down again, it was so slippery from the rain — but we all had a good laugh.”

[3-4-52] “I doubt if I have time or strength to keep a diary anymore — which is a pity as I see and know so much of the inner workings here…”

[15-9-55] “I suppose there are as many hells as there are people. But not many, I hope, live in the particular hell Shoghi Effendi and I do. If someone should ask me to define it I would say that though there are so many kinds, in principle there are two divisions: hell without responsibility and hell with responsibility…” [For those who may not understand the English usage of the word “hell” as employed here, I mean agony, intense, burning suffering.]

[14-11-55] “Word reached the Guardian Varqa has died. Shoghi Effendi said ‘He was the finest man we had.’ Of course it was expected for a long time, but he feels the loss as there are so few outstanding, capable Bahá’ís.”

Chapter 9

War

In reading over my diaries — so very little of which I have quoted out of hundreds of pages written off and on throughout the years — it seems strange to me there is practically no reference to the World War raging everywhere during almost six years and constituting such a dire threat to the safety of the World Centre of the Faith and particularly to the Guardian himself as Head of that Faith. Nothing could more eloquently testify to the internal upheavals he was going through during all those years than this blank. The day-to-day pressures and the work, worry and mental exhaustion were so great that it crowded mention of this constant threat and anxiety into the background. Shoghi Effendi was the keenest observer of political events and kept abreast of all happenings. His intelligence and analytical faculties did not permit him to lull himself into any false complacency, induced by the rather childish idea people sometimes have of what “faith” means. He well knew that to have faith in God does not mean one should not use one’s mind, appraise dangers, anticipate moves, make the right decisions during a crisis.