g
of hundreds of thousands of devoted followers placed at His disposal large
funds which He was called upon to administer. Although His life at Bahji
has been described as truly regal, in the highest sense of the word, yet
it must not be imagined that it was characterized by material splendor or
extravagance. The Blessed Perfection and His family lived in very simple
and modest fashion, and expenditure on selfish luxury was a think unknown
in that household. Near His home the believers prepared a beautiful garden
called Ridvan, in which He often spent many consecutive days or even
weeks, sleeping at night in a little cottage in the garden. Occasionally
He went further afield. He made several visits to Akka and Haifa, and on
more than one occasion pitched His tent on Mount Carmel, as He had
predicted when imprisoned in the barracks at Akka. The time of Baha'u'llah
was spent for the most part in prayer and meditation, in writing the
Sacred Books, revealing Tablets, and in spiritual education of the
friends. In order to give Him entire freedom for this great work,
'Abdu'l-Baha undertook the arrangement of all other affairs, even meeting
the Mullas, poets, and members of the Government. All of these were
delighted and happy through meeting 'Abdu'l-Baha, and entirely satisfied
with His explanation and talks, and although they had not met Baha'u'llah
Himself, they became full of friendly feeling towards Him, through their
acquaintanceship with His son, for 'Abdu'l-Baha's attitude caused them to
understand the station of His father.

The distinguished orientalist, the late Professor Edward G. Browne, of the
University of Cambridge, visited Baha'u'llah at Bahji in the year 1890,
and recorded his impressions as follows:--

... my conductor paused for a moment while I removed my shoes.
Then, with a quick movement of the hand, he withdrew, and, as I
passed, replaced the curtain; and I found myself in a large
apartment, along the upper end of which ran a low divan, while on
the side opposite to the door were placed two or three chairs.
Though I dimly suspected whither I was going and whom I was to
behold (for no distinct intimation had been given to me), a second
or two elapsed ere, with a throb of wonder and awe, I became
definitely conscious that the room was not untenanted. In the
corner where the divan met the wall sat a wondrous and venerable
figure, crowned with a felt head-dress