This honored man, Mírzá Mihdí, was from Káshán. In early
youth, under his father’s tutelage, he had studied sciences and arts, and had
become skilled in composing both prose and verse, as well as in producing
calligraphy in the style known as shikastih.1 He was singled out from his
fellows, head and shoulders above the rest. When still a child, he learned of
the Lord’s Advent, caught fire with love, and became one of those who “gave
their all to purchase Joseph.” He was chief of the yearning seekers, lord of
lovers; eloquently, he began to teach the Faith, and to prove the validity of
the Manifestation.
He made converts; and because he yearned after God, he
became a laughingstock in Káshán, disparaged by friend and stranger alike,
exposed to the taunts of his faithless companions. One of them said: “He has
lost his mind.” And another: “He is a public disgrace. Fortune has turned
against him. He is done for.” The bullies mocked him, and spared him nothing.
When life became untenable, and open war broke out, he left his homeland and
journeyed to Iraq, the focal center of the new Light, where he gained the
presence of all mankind’s Beloved.
He spent some time here, in the friends’ company, composing
verses that sang the praises of Bahá’u’lláh. Later he was given leave to return
home, and went back to live for a while in Káshán. But again, he was plagued by
yearning love, and could bear the separation no more. He returned, therefore,
to Baghdad, bringing with him his respected sister, the third consort.
Here he remained, under the bountiful protection of
Bahá’u’lláh, until the convoy left Iraq for Constantinople, at which time Mírzá
Mihdí was directed to remain behind and guard the Holy House. Restless,
consumed with longing, he stayed on. When the friends were banished from
Baghdad to Mosul, he was among the prisoners, a victim along with the others.
With the greatest hardship, he got to Mosul, and here fresh calamities awaited
him; he was ill almost all the time, he was an outcast, and destitute. Still he
endured it for a considerable period, was patient, retained his dignity, and
continually offered thanks. Finally he could bear the absence of Bahá’u’lláh no
longer. He sought permission, was granted leave to come, and set out for the
Most Great Prison.
