Bahá’í World/Volume 4/Martyrdom of the Báb (From Nabíl’s Narrative)

The Bahá’í World
Volume 4

MARTYRDOM OF THE BAB
From Nabíl’s Narrative

THE tale of the tragedy that marked the closing stages of the Nayríz upheaval spread over the length and breadth of Persia and kindled a startling enthusiasm in the hearts of those who heard it. It plunged the authorities of the capital into consternation and nerved them to a resolve of despair. The Amír-Niẓám, the Grand Vazír of Náṣiri’d-Dín Sháh, was particularly overawed by these recurrent manifestations of an indomitable will, of a fierce and inflexible tenacity of faith. Though the forces of the imperial army had everywhere triumphed, though the companions of Mullá Ḥusayn and Vaḥíd had successively been mowed down in a ruthless carnage at the hands of its officers, yet to the shrewd minds of the rulers of Ṭihrán it was clear and evident that the spirit responsible for such rare heroism was by no means vanquished, that its might was far from broken. The loyalty which the remnants of that scattered band bore to their captive Leader still remained unimpaired. Nothing had as yet been successful, despite the appalling losses they had sustained, in sapping that loyalty or in undermining that faith. Far from being extinguished, that spirit had blazed more intense and devastating than ever. Galled by the memory of the indignities they had suffered, that persecuted band clung ever more passionately to its Faith and looked with increasing fervour and hope to its Leader.¹ Above all, He who had kindled that flame and nourished that spirit was still alive, and, despite His isolation, was able to exercise the full measure of His influence. Even a sleepless vigilance had been powerless to stem the tide that had swept over the entire face of the land, and which had as its motive force the continued existence of the Báb. Extinguish that light, choke the stream at its very source, and the torrent that had brought so much devastation in its wake would run dry. Such was the thought that swayed the Grand Vazír of Náṣiri’d-Dín Sháh. To do Him to death seemed to that foolish minister the most efficacious means for the recovery of his country from the shame into which he thought it had sunk.

¹ “Des Bábís, il y en avait partout, on ne le savait que trop. La Perse en était pleine, et si les esprits inquiets de choses transcendantes, si les philosophes à la recherche de combinaisons nouvelles, si les âmes froissées à qui les injustices et les faiblesses du temps présent répugnaient, s’étaient jusqu’alors livrés avec emportement à l’idée et aux promesses d'un nouvel état de choses plus satisfaisant, on était en droit de penser que les imaginations turbulentes, amies de l’action, même au prix du désastre, que les esprits braves et passionnés pour les batailles, et, enfin, les ambitieux hardis n’auraient que trop de tendance à se précipiter dans les rangs qui se montraient riches de tant de soldats propres à former d’intrépides phalanges. Mírzá Taqí Khán, maudissant la mollesse avec laquelle son prédécesseur, Ḥájí Mírzá Áqásí, avait laissé naître et grandir un pareil péril, comprit qu il ne fallait pas prolonger cette faute et voulut couper le mal dans sa racine. Il se persuada que la source en était le Báb lui-même, premier auteur de toutes les doctrines qui troublaient le pays, et il voulut faire disparaître cette source.”

(Comte de Gobineau’s “Les Religions et les Philosophies dans l’Asie Centrale”, pp. 210-11.)

² “Cependant, Ḥájí Mírzá Taqí résolut de frapper le monstre du Bábisme à la tête, et il se persuada que, ce coup porté, l’instigateur du désordre une fois éloigné de la scène et n’exerçant plus d’action, tout reprendrait son cours naturel. Toutefois—chose assez remarquable dans un gouvernement asiatique, et surtout chez un homme d’Etat comme Mírzá Taqí Khán, qui ne regardait pas de très près à une exagération de sévérité—ce ministre ne s’arrêta pas d’abord à ordonner la mort du novateur. Il pensa que le meilleur moyen de le détruire était de le perdre moralement. Le tirer de sa retraite de Chihríq, où une auréole de souffrance, de sainteté, de science, d’éloquence, l’entourait et le faisait briller comme un soleil; le montrer aux populations tel qu’il était, ce qui veut dire, tel qu’il se le figurait, c’était le meilleur moyen de l’empêcher de nuire en détruisant son prestige. Il se le représentait, en effet, comme un charlatan vulgaire, un rêveur timide qui n’avait pas eu le courage de concevoir, encore moins de diriger les audacieuses entreprises de ses trois apôtres, ou même d’y prendre part. Un homme de cette espèce, amené à Ṭihrán et jeté en face des plus habiles dialecticiens de l’Islám, ne pourrait que plier honteusement, et son crédit s’évanouirait bien mieux par ce moyen que si, en supprimant le corps, on laissait encore flotter dans les esprits le fantôme d'une supériorité que la mort aurait rendue irréfutable. On

[Page 23] Bestirred to action, he summoned his counsellors, shared with them his fears and his hopes, and acquainted them with the nature of his plans. “Behold,” he exclaimed, “the storm which the Faith of the Siyyid-i-Báb has provoked in the hearts of my fellow-countrymen! Nothing short of his public execution can, to my mind, enable this distracted country to recover its tranquillity and peace. Who dare compute the forces that have perished in the course of the engagements at Shaykh Ṭabarsí? Who can estimate the efforts exerted to secure that victory? No sooner had the mischief that convulsed Mázindarán been suppressed, than the flames of another sedition blazed forth in the province of Fárs, bringing in its wake so much suffering to my people. We had no sooner succeeded in quelling the revolt that had ravaged the south, than another insurrection breaks out in the north, sweeping in its vortex Zanján and its surroundings. If you are able to advise a remedy, acquaint me with it, for my sole purpose is to ensure the peace and honour of my countrymen.”

Not a single voice dared venture a reply, except that of Mírzá Áqá Khán-i-Núrí, the Minister of War, who pleaded that to put to death a banished Siyyid for the deeds committed by a band of irresponsible agitators would be an act of manifest cruelty. He recalled the example of the late Muḥammad Sháh, whose invariable practice it had been to disregard the base calumnies the enemies of that siyyid brought continually to his attention. The Amír-Niẓám was sorely displeased. “Such considerations,” he protested, “are wholly irrelevant to the issue with which we are faced. The interests of the State are in jeopardy, and we can in no wise tolerate these periodic upheavals. Was not the Imám Ḥusayn, in view of the paramount necessity for safeguarding the unity of the State, executed by those same persons who had seen him more than once receive marks of exceptional affection from Muḥammad, his Grandfather? Did they not in such circumstances refuse to consider the rights which his lineage had conferred upon him? Nothing short of the remedy I advocate can uproot this evil and bring us the peace for which we long.”

Disregarding the advice of his counsellor, the Amír-Niẓám despatched his orders to Navváb Ḥamzih Mírzá, the governor of Ádhirbáyján, who was distinguished among the princes of royal blood for his kind-heartedness and rectitude of conduct, to summon the Báb to Tabríz.¹ He was careful not to divulge to the prince his real purpose. The Navváb, assuming that the intention of the minister was to enable his Captive to return to His home, immediately directed one of his trusted officers, together with a mounted escort, to proceed to Chihríq, where the Báb still lay confined, and to bring Him back to Tabríz. He recommended Him to their care, urging them

forma donc le projet de le faire arrêter, de le faire venir à Tihrán, et, sur la route, de l’exposer en public, enchaîné, humilié; de le faire discuter partout avec des mullas, lui imposant silence lorsqu’il deviendrait téméraire: en un mot, de lui susciter une série de combats inégaux où il serait nécessairement vaincu, étant d’avance démoralisé par tant de moyens propres à briser son courage. C’était un lion qu’on voulait énerver, tenir à la chaîne et désarmer d'ongles et de dents, puis livrer aux chiens pour montrer combien ceux-ci en pouvaient triompher aisément. Une fois vaincu, peu importait ce qu’on se déciderait à en faire. Ce plan ne manquait pas de portée; mais il se fondait sur des suppositions dont les principales n’étaient rien moins que prouvées. Ce n’était pas assez que d’imaginer le Báb sans courage et sans fermeté; il fallait qu’il le fût réellement. Or, l’attitude de ce personnage dans le fort de Chihriq ne le donnait pas à penser. Il priait et travaillait sans cesse. Sa douceur était inaltérable. Ceux qui l’approchaient subissaient malgré eux l’influence séductrice de son visage, de ses manières, de son langage. Les soldats qui le gardaient n’étaient pas tous restés exempts de cette faiblesse. Sa mort lui paraissait prochaine. Il en parlait fréquemment comme d’une idée qui lui était non seulement familière, mais aimable. Si donc, promené ainsi dans toute la Perse, il allait ne pas s abattre? S’il ne se montrait ni arrogant, ni peureux, mais bien au-dessus de sa fortune présente? S’il allait confondre les prodiges de savoir, d’adresse et d’éloquence ameutés contre lui? S’il restait plus que jamais le Báb pour ses sectateurs anciens et le devenait pour les indifférents ou même pour ses ennemis? C’était beaucoup risquer afin de gagner beaucoup sans doute, mais aussi pour beaucoup perdre, et, tout réfléchi, on n’osa pas courir cette chance.”

(Comte de Gobineau’s “Les Religions et les Philosophies dans l’Asie Centrale”, p. 211-13.)

¹ “Le Premier ministre, ayant mandé Sulaymán Khán, l’Afshar, il le chargea de porter à Tabríz, au prince Ḥamzih Mírzá devenu gouverneur de l’Adhirbáyján, l’ordre de tirer le Báb du fort de Chihriq et de l’amener dans la citadelle de Tabríz, où il apprendrait plus tard ce qu’il aurait à en faire.” (Comte de Gobineau’s “Les Religions et les Philosophies dans l’Asie Centrale”, p. 213.)

[Page 24]

Mírzá Siyyid Ḥasan.

Ḥájí Mírzá ‘Abu’l-Qásim.

Brothers-in-law of the Báb.

[Page 25]to exercise towards Him the utmost consideration.

Forty days before the arrival of that officer at Chihríq, the Báb collected all the documents and Tablets in His possession and, placing them, with His pen-case, His seals, and agate rings, in a coffer, entrusted them to the care of Mullá Báqir, one of the Letters of the Living. To him He also delivered a letter addressed to Mírzá Aḥmad, His amanuensis, in which He enclosed the key to that coffer. He urged him to take the utmost care of that trust, emphasised the sacredness of its character, and bade him conceal its contents from anyone except Mírzá Aḥmad.

Mullá Báqir departed forthwith for Qazvín. Within eighteen days he reached that town and was informed that Mírzá Aḥmad had departed for Qum. He left immediately for that destination and arrived towards the middle of the month of Sha‘bán.¹ I was then in Qum, together with a certain Ṣádiq-i-Tabrízí, whom Mírzá Aḥmad had sent to fetch me from Zarand. I was living in the same house with Mírzá Aḥmad, a house which he had hired in the Bágh-Panbih quarter. In those days Shaykh ‘Aẓím, Siyyid Ismá‘íl, and a number of other companions likewise were dwelling with us. Mullá Báqir delivered the trust into the hands of Mírzá Aḥmad, who, at the insistence of Shaykh ‘Aẓím, opened it before us. We marvelled when we beheld, among the things which that coffer contained, a scroll of blue paper, of the most delicate texture, on which the Báb, in His own exquisite handwriting, which was a fine Shikastih script, had penned, in the form of a pentacle, what numbered about five hundred verses, all consisting of derivatives from the word “Bahá.”² That scroll was in a state of perfect preservation, was spotlessly clean, and gave the impression, at first sight, of being a printed rather than a written page. So fine and intricate was the penmanship that, viewed at a distance, the writing appeared as a single wash of ink on the paper. We were overcome with admiration as we gazed upon a masterpiece which no calligraphist, we believed, could rival. That scroll was replaced in the coffer and handed back to Mírzá Aḥmad, who, on the very day he received it, proceeded to Ṭihrán. Ere he departed, he informed us that all he could divulge of that letter was the injunction that the trust was to be delivered into the hands of Jináb-i-Bahá³ in Ṭihrán.⁴ As to me, I was instructed by Mírzá Aḥmad to proceed to Zarand and join my father, who anxiously awaited my return.

Faithful to the instructions he had received from Navváb Ḥamzih Mírzá, that officer conducted the Báb to Tabríz and showed Him the utmost respect and consideration. The prince had instructed one of his friends to accommodate Him in his home and to treat Him with extreme deference. Three days after the Báb’s arrival, a fresh order was received from the Grand Vazír, commanding the prince to carry out the execution of his Prisoner on the very day the farmá⁵ would reach him. Whoever would profess himself His follower was likewise to be condemned to death. The Armenian regiment of Urúmíyyih, whose colonel was Sám Khán, was ordered to shoot Him, in the courtyard of the barracks of Tabríz, which were situated in the centre of the city.

The prince expressed his consternation to the bearer of the farmán, Mírzá Ḥasan Khán, the Vazír-Niẓám and brother of the Grand Vazír. “The Amír,” he told him, “would do better to entrust me with services of greater merit than the one with which he has now commissioned me. The task I am called upon to perform is a task that

¹ June 12-July 11, 1850 A.D.

² According to “A Traveller’s Narrative” (p. 42), the Báb had produced no less than three hundred and sixty derivatives from the word “Bahá.”

³ Title by which Bahá’u’lláh was designated in those days.

⁴ “The end of the Báb’s earthly Manifestation is now close upon us. He knew it himself before the event, and was not displeased at the presentiment. He had already ‘set his house in order,’ as regards the spiritual affairs of the Bábí community, which he had, if I mistake not, confided to the intuitive wisdom of Bahá’u’lláh . . . It is impossible not to feel that this is far more probable than the view which makes Ṣubh-i-Azal the custodian of the sacred writings and the arranger of a resting-place for the sacred remains. I much fear that the Azalí’s have manipulated tradition in the interest of their party.”

(Dr. T. K. Cheyne’s “The Reconciliation of Races and Religions,” pp. 65–6.)

⁵ See glossary.

[Page 26] only ignoble people would accept. I am neither Ibn-i-Zíyád nor Ibn-i-Sa‘d¹ that he should call upon me to slay an innocent descendant of the Prophet of God.” Mírzá Ḥasan Khán reported these sayings of the prince to his brother, who thereupon ordered him to follow, himself, without delay and in their entirety, the instructions he had already given. “Relieve us,” the Vazír urged his brother, “from this anxiety that weighs upon our hearts, and let this affair be brought to an end ere the month of Ramaḍán breaks upon us, that we may enter the period of fasting with undisturbed tranquillity.” Mírzá Ḥasan Khán attempted to acquaint the prince with these fresh instructions, but failed in his efforts, as the prince, pretending to be ill, refused to meet him. Undeterred by this refusal, he issued his instructions for the immediate transfer of the Báb and those in His company from the house in which He was staying to one of the rooms of the barracks. He, moreover, directed Sám Khán to despatch ten of his men to guard the entrance of the room in which He was to be confined.

Deprived of His turban and sash, the twin emblems of His noble lineage, the Báb, together with Siyyid Ḥusayn, His amanuensis, was driven to yet another confinement which He well knew was but a step further on the way leading Him to the goal He had set Himself to attain. That day witnessed a tremendous commotion in the city of Tabríz. The great convulsion associated in the ideas of its inhabitants with the Day of Judgment seemed at last to have come upon them. Never had that city experienced a turmoil so fierce and so mysterious as the one which seized its inhabitants on the day the Báb was led to that place which was to be the scene of His martyrdom. As He approached the courtyard of the barracks, a youth suddenly leaped forward who, in his eagerness to overtake Him, had forced his way through the crowd, utterly ignoring the risks and perils which such an attempt might involve. His face was haggard, his feet were bare, and his hair dishevelled. Breathless with excitement and exhausted with fatigue, he flung himself at the feet of the Báb and, seizing the hem of His garment, passionately implored Him: “Send me not from Thee, O Master. Wherever Thou goest, suffer me to follow Thee.” “Muḥammad-‘Alí,” answered the Báb, “arise, and rest assured that you will be with Me.² Tomorrow you shall witness what God has decreed.” Two other companions, unable to contain themselves, rushed forward and assured Him of their unalterable loyalty. These, together with Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Alíy-i-Zunúzí, were seized and placed in the same cell in which the Báb and Siyyid Ḥusayn were confined.

I have heard Siyyid Ḥusayn bear witness to the following: “That night the face of the Báb was aglow with joy, a joy such as had never shone from His countenance. Indifferent to the storm that raged about Him, He conversed with us with gaiety and cheerfulness. The sorrows that had weighed so heavily upon Him seemed to have completely vanished. Their weight appeared to have dissolved in the consciousness of approaching victory. ‘Tomorrow,’ He said to us, ‘will be the day of My martyrdom. Would that one of you might now arise and, with his own hands, end My life. I prefer to be slain by the hand of a friend rather than by that of the enemy.’ Tears rained from our eyes as we heard Him express that wish. We shrank, however, at the thought of taking away with our own hands so precious a life. We refused, and remained silent. Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Alí suddenly sprang to his feet and announced himself ready to obey whatever the Báb might desire. This same youth who has risen to comply with My wish,’ the Báb declared, as soon as we had intervened and forced him to abandon that thought, ‘will, together with Me, suffer martyrdom. Him will I choose to share with Me its crown.’”

Early in the morning, Mírzá Ḥasan Khán ordered his farrásh-báshí³ to conduct the Báb into the presence of the leading mujtahids of the city and to obtain from them

¹ Persecutors of the descendants of Muḥammad.

² “It is no doubt a singular coincidence that both ‘Alí-Muḥammad and Jesus Christ are reported to have addressed these words to a disciple: ‘To-day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.’”

(Dr. T. K. Cheyne’s “The Reconciliation of Races and Religions,” p. 185.)

³ See glossary.

[Page 27]

Relics of the Báb preserved in Yazd and Shíráz, Persia.

[Page 28] the authorization required for His execution.¹ As the Báb was leaving the barracks, Siyyid Ḥusayn asked Him what he should do. “Confess not your faith,” He advised him. “Thereby you will be enabled, when the hour comes, to convey to those who are destined to hear you, the things of which you alone are aware.” He was engaged in a confidential conversation with him when the farrásh-báshí suddenly interrupted and, holding Siyyid Ḥusayn by the hand, drew him aside and severely rebuked him. “Not until I have said to him all those things that I wish to say,” the Báb warned the farrásh-báshí, “can any earthly power silence Me. Though all the world be armed against Me, yet shall they be powerless to deter Me from fulfilling, to the last word, My intention.” The farrásh-báshí was amazed at such a bold assertion. He made, however, no reply, and bade Siyyid Ḥusayn arise and follow him.

When Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Alí was ushered into the presence of the mujtahids, he was repeatedly urged, in view of the position which his stepfather, Siyyid ‘Alíy-i-Zunúzí, occupied, to recant his faith. “Never,” he exclaimed, “will I renounce my Master. He is the essence of my faith, and the object of my truest adoration. In Him I have found my paradise, and in the observance of His law I recognise the ark of my salvation.” “Hold your peace!” thundered Mullá Muḥammad-i-Mámáqání, before whom that youth was brought. “Such words betray your madness; I can well excuse the words for which you are not responsible.” “I am not mad,” he retorted. “Such a charge should rather be brought against you who have sentenced to death a man no less holy than the promised Qá’im. He is not a fool who has embraced His Faith and is longing to shed his blood in His path.

The Báb was, in His turn, brought before Mullá Muḥammad-i-Mámáqání. No sooner had he recognised Him than he seized the death-warrant he himself had previously written and, handing it to his attendant, bade him deliver it to the farrásh-báshí. “No need,” he cried, “to bring the Siyyid-i-Báb into my presence. This death-warrant I penned the very day I met him at the gathering presided over by the Valí-‘Ahd. He surely is the same man whom I saw on that occasion, and has not, in the meantime, surrendered any of his claims.”

From thence the Báb was conducted to the house of Mírzá Báqir, the son of Mírzá Aḥmad, to whom he had recently succeeded. When they arrived, they found his attendant standing at the gate and holding in his hand the Báb’s death-warrant. “No need to enter,” he told them. “My master is already satisfied that his father was right in pronouncing the sentence of death. He can do no better than follow his example.”

Mullá Murtaḍá-Qulí, following in the footsteps of the other two mujtahids, had previously issued his own written testimony and refused to meet face to face his dreaded opponent. No sooner had the farrásh-báshí secured the necessary documents than he delivered his Captive into the hands of Sám Khán, assuring him that he could proceed with his task now that he had obtained the sanction of the civil and ecclesiastical authorities of the realm.

¹ “Le lendemain, de grand matin, les gens de Ḥamzih Mirzá ayant ouvert les portes de la prison, en firent sortir le Báb et ses deux disciples. On s’assura que les fers qu’ils avaient au cou et aux mains étaient solides; on attacha de plus au carcan de chacun d’eux une longue corde dont un farrásh tenait le bout, puis, afin que chacun pût bien les voir et les reconnaître, on les promena ainsi par la ville, dans toutes les rues et dans tous les bazars, en les accablant d’injures et de coups. La foule remplissait les chemins et les gens montaient sur les épaules les uns des autres pour considérer de leur mieux l’homme dont on avait tant parlé. Les Bábís, les demi-Bábís, répandus de tous côtés tâchaient d’exciter, chez quelques-uns des spectateurs, un peu de commisération ou quelque autre sentiment dont ils auraient profité pour sauver leur maître. Les indifférents, les philosophes, les Shaykhís, les súfís, se détournaient du cortège avec dégoût et rentraient chez eux, ou, l’attendant au contraire au coin des rues, le contemplaient avec une muette curiosité et rien davantage. La masse déguenillée, turbulente, impressionnable, criait force grossièretés aux trois martyrs; mais elle était toute prête à changer d’avis pour peu qu’une circonstance quelconque vînt pousser ses esprits dans un sens différent. Enfin, les musulmans, maîtres de la journée, poursuivaient d’outrages les prisonniers, cherchaient à rompre l’escorte pour les frapper au visage ou sur la tête, et quand on ne les avait pas repoussés à temps ou qu’un tesson lancé par quelque enfant avait atteint le Báb ou l’un de ses compagnons à la figure, l’escorte et la foule éclataient de rire.”

(Comte de Gobineau’s “Les Religions et les Philosophies dans l’Asie Centrale”, p. 220.)

² See glossary.

[Page 29]

Relics of the Báb preserved in Yazd and Shíráz, Persia.

[Page 30] Siyyid Ḥusayn had remained confined in the same room in which he had spent the previous night with the Báb. They were proceeding to place Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Alí in that same room, when he burst forth into tears and entreated them to allow him to remain with his Master. He was delivered into the hands of Sám Khán, who was ordered to execute him also, if he persisted in his refusal to deny his Faith.

Sám Khán was, in the meantime, finding himself increasingly affected by the behaviour of his Captive and the treatment that had been meted out to Him. He was seized with great fear lest his action should bring upon him the wrath of God. “I profess the Christian Faith,” he explained to the Báb, “and entertain no ill will against you. If your Cause be the Cause of Truth, enable me to free myself from the obligation to shed your blood.” “Follow your instructions,” the Báb replied, “and if your intention be sincere, the Almighty is surely able to relieve you from your perplexity.”

Sám Khán ordered his men to drive a nail into the pillar that lay between the door of the room that Siyyid Ḥusayn occupied and the entrance to the adjoining one, and to make fast two ropes to that nail, from which the Báb and His companion were to be separately suspended.¹ Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Alí begged Sám Khán to be placed in such a manner that his own body would shield that of the Báb.² He was eventually suspended in such a position that his head reposed on the breast of his Master. As soon as they were fastened, a regiment of soldiers ranged itself in three files, each of two hundred and fifty men, each of which was ordered to open fire in its turn until the whole detachment had discharged the volleys of its bullets.³ The smoke of the firing of the seven hundred and fifty rifles was such as to turn the light of the noonday sun into darkness. There had crowded onto the roof of the barracks, as well as the tops of the adjoining houses, about ten thousand people, all of whom were witnesses to that sad and moving scene.

As soon as the cloud of smoke had cleared away, an astounded multitude were looking upon a scene which their eyes could scarcely believe. There, standing before them alive and unhurt, was the companion of the Báb, whilst He Himself had vanished uninjured from their sight. Though the cords with which they were suspended had been rent in pieces by the bullets, yet their bodies had miraculously escaped the volleys.⁴ Even the

¹ “Báb gardait le silence; son pâle et beau visage qu’encadraient une barbe noire et de petites moustaches, sa tournure et ses manières distinguées, ses mains blanches et délicates, ses vêtements simples, mais d’une exquise propreté, tout enfin dans sa personne éveillait la sympathie et la compassion.”

(Journal Asiatique, 166, tome 7, p. 378.)

² “Proof of the devotion and steadfastness of this noble man is afforded by a letter in his own blessed writing which was in the possession of his brother Mullá ‘Abdu’lláh, who still lives in Tabríz. This letter he wrote from the prison, three days or two days before his martyrdom, in reply to his brother, who had written to him counselling him to turn aside from his devotion and thraldom; and therein he makes his apology. And since the martyr was the younger of the two brethren, therefore he adopts a respectful tone in his letter. The text of this letter of reply is as follows: ‘He is the Compassionate. O my Qiblih! Thanks be to God, I have no fault to find with my circumstances, and “to every travail rest succeeds.” As to what you wrote, that this matter hath no end, what matter, then, hath an end? We, at least, have no discontent therein; being, indeed, unable sufficiently to express our gratitude for this blessing. At most we can but be slain for God’s sake, and, oh, what happiness were this! The Lord’s will must be accomplished through His servants, neither can prudence avert predestined fate. What God wills comes to pass: there is no strength save in God. O my Qiblih! The end of the life of the world is death: “every soul shall taste of death.” If the appointed destiny which the Lord (mighty and glorious is He) hath decreed should overtake me, then God is the guardian of my family, and thou art my trustee; act in such wise as accords with God’s good pleasure. Forgive any failure in the respect or duty owed to an elder brother of which I may have been guilty, seek pardon for me from all those of my household, and commend me to God. God is my portion, and how good is He as a guardian!’”

(“The Táríkh-i-Jadíd,” pp. 301–303.)

³ “Lorsqu’on fusille, en Perse, les condamnés sont attachés à un poteau, le dos tourné aux spectateurs et de sorte qu’ils ne puissent voir les signes du commandement.”

(Journal Asiatique, 1866, Tome 7, p. 377.)

⁴ “Une clameur intense s’éleva de la foule à ce moment. C’est que les spectateurs venaient d’apercevoir Báb, délivré de ses entraves, s’avancer libre vers eux. Un hasard merveilleux avait fait qu’aucune balle n’avait atteint le condamné; au contraire, ses liens avaient été rompus, il était délivré. C’était un vrai miracle, et Dieu sait ce qui serait arrivé sans la fidélité et le sang-froid dont le régiment chrétien fit montre en cette circonstance. Les soldats, pour calmer l’effervescence de la foule qui s’agitait, prête à croire à la vérité d’une religion qui faisait ainsi ses preuves, lui montrèrent les cordes brisées par les balles, démonstration visible de l’inanité du miracle. En même temps on saisissait Báb et on le liait de nouveau au poteau fatal. . . . Cette fois le

[Page 31]

The ‘Bayt’ (House) in Shíráz in which the Báb declared His mission, May 1844.

[Page 32] tunic which Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Alí was wearing had, despite the thickness of the smoke, remained unsullied. “The Siyyid-i-Báb has gone from our sight!” rang out the voices of the bewildered multitude. They set out in a frenzied search for Him, and found Him, eventually, seated in the same room which He had occupied the night before, engaged in completing His interrupted conversation, with Siyyid Ḥusayn. An expression of unruffled calm was upon His face. His body had emerged unscathed from the shower of bullets which the regiment had directed against Him. “I have finished My conversation with Siyyid Ḥusayn,” the Báb told the farrásh-báshí. “Now you may proceed to fulfil your intention.” The man was too much shaken to resume what he had already attempted. Refusing to accomplish his duty, he, that same moment, left that scene and resigned his post. He related all that he had seen to his neighbour, Mírzá Siyyid Muḥsin, one of the notables of Tabríz, who, as soon as he heard the story, was converted to the Faith.

I was privileged to meet, subsequently, this same Mírzá Siyyid Muḥsin, who conducted me to the scene of the Báb’s martyrdom and showed me the wall where He had been suspended. I was taken to the room in which He had been found conversing with Siyyid Ḥusayn, and was shown the very spot where He had been seated. I saw the very nail which His enemies had hammered into the wall and to which the rope which had supported His body had been attached.

Sám Khán was likewise stunned by the force of this tremendous revelation. He ordered his men to leave the barracks immediately, and refused ever again to associate himself and his regiment with any act that involved the least injury to the Báb. He swore, as he left that courtyard, never again to resume that task even though his refusal should entail the loss of his own life.

No sooner had Sám Khán departed than Áqá Ján Khán-i-Khamsih, colonel of the body-guard, known also by the names of Khamsih and Náṣirí, volunteered to carry out the order for execution. On the same wall and in the same manner, the Báb and His companion were again suspended, while the regiment formed in line to open fire upon them. Contrariwise to the previous occasion, when only the cord with which they were suspended had been shot into pieces, this time their bodies were shattered and were blended into one mass of mingled flesh and bone.¹ “Had you believed in Me, O wayward generation,” were the last words of the Báb to the gazing multitude as the regiment was preparing to fire the final volley, “every one of you would have followed the example of this youth, who stood in rank above most of you, and willingly would have sacrificed himself in My path. The day will come when you will have recognised Me; that day I shall have ceased to be with you.”²

súpplice fut bon; la justice musulmane et la loi canonique avaient repris leurs droits. Mais la foule, vivement impressionnée par le spectacle qu’elle avait eu sous les yeux, s’écoula lentement, mal convaincue que le Báb était un criminel. Sa faute, après tout, n’en était une que pour les gens de loi, et le monde est indulgent aux crimes qu’il ne comprend point.”

(M. C. Huart: “La Religion de Báb”, pp. 3-4.)

“C’est alors que se passa un fait étrange, unique dans les annales de l’humanité. . . . Les balles étaient venues couper les cordes qui retenaient le Báb, celui-ci retomba sur ses pieds sans une égratignure.”

(A. L. M. Nicohas’ “Siyyid ‘Alí-Muḥammad dit le Báb,” p. 375.)

“Par un hasard extraordinaire, les balles ne touchèrent que les cordes qui tenaient Báb attaché; elles se rompirent et il se sentit libre. Du bruit, des éclats de voix retentirent de tous les côtés sans qu’on comprît d’abord de quoi il s’agissait.”

(Ibid., p. 379.)

¹ According to “A Traveller’s Narrative” (p. 45), “the breasts (of the victims) were riddled and their limbs were completely dissected, except their faces, which were but little marred.”

² “The Báb, the Lord most high, may the life of all be a sacrifice to Him, hath specifically revealed an Epistle unto the ‘ulamas of every city, wherein He hath fully set forth the character of the denial and repudiation of each of them. Wherefore, take ye good heed, ye who are men of insight!”

(Bahá’u’lláh: “The Kitáb-i-Íqán,” p 193.)

“Praise be to God who manifested the Point (the Báb) and caused to proceed therefrom the knowledge of all that was and shall be . . . He is that Point which God hath made to be an Ocean of light unto the faithful among His servants, and a Ball of Fire unto the deniers among His creatures and the impious among His people.”

(Bahá’u’lláh: “The Ishráqát,” p. 3.)

“In His interpretation of the letter ‘Há,’ He craved martyrdom, saying: ‘Methinks I heard a voice calling in My inmost being: “Do Thou sacrifice the thing which Thou lovest most in the path of God, even as Ḥusayn, peace be upon him, hath offered up his life for My sake.” And were I not regardful of this inevitable mystery, by Him in whose hand is My soul, even if all the kings of the earth were to

[Page 33]

Outskirts of Shíráz where the Báb often walked.

Pulpit in the “Masjid-i-Vakil,” Shíráz, from which the Báb addressed the congregation.

The Sháh-Chirágh, Shíráz, the burial-place of the Báb’s wife.

[Page 34] The very moment the shots were fired, a gale of exceptional severity arose and swept over the whole city. A whirlwind of dust of incredible density obscured the light of

be leagued together, they would be powerless to take from Me a single letter; how much less can such servants as these, who are worthy of no attention, and who verily are of the outcast? that all may know the degree of My patience, My resignation and self-sacrifice in the path of God.’” (Bahá’u’lláh:, “The Kitáb-i-Íqán,” p. 195.)

“This illustrious Soul arose with such power that He shook the supports of the religion, of the morals, the conditions, the habits and the customs of Persia, and instituted new rules, new laws, and a new religion. Though the great personages of the State, nearly all the clergy, and the public men, arose to destroy and annihilate Him, He alone withstood them, and moved the whole of Persia . . . He imparted Divine education to an unenlightened multitude and produced marvellous results on the thoughts, morals, customs, and conditions of the Persians.”

(‘Abdu’l-Bahá: “Some Answered Questions,” pp. 30–31.)

“Les chrétiens sont en effet convaincus que si Jésus-Christ avait voulu descendre vivant de la croix, il l’eût fait sans difficulté: il est mort volontairement, parce qu’il devait mourir et pour accomplir les prophéties. Il en est de même pour le Báb, disent les Bábis, qui voulut donner aussi une sanction évidente à ses paroles. Lui aussi mourut volontairement, parce que sa mort devait sauver l’humanité. Qui dira jamais les paroles que le Báb put prononcer au milieu du tumulte sans nom qui accueillit son départ: qui saura quels souvenirs agitaient sa belle âme, qui nous dira jamais le secret de cette mort . . . Le spectacle des turpitudes, des hontes, des vices, du mensonge de ce clergé révoltait son âme pure et sincère: il sentait le besoin d’une réforme profonde à introduire dans les moeurs publiques et dut, plus d’une fois, hésiter devant la perspective de la révolution qu’il lui fallait déchaîner pour délivrer les corps et les intelligences du joug d’abrutissement et de violence qui pesait sur toute la Perse pour le plus grand profit d’une élite de . . . jouisseurs et pour la plus grande honte de la vraie religion du Prophète. Sa perplexité dut être grande, ses angoisses terribles, et il lui fallut le triple airain dont parle Horace pour se précipiter tête baissée dans l’océan des superstitions et des haines qui devait fatalement l’engloutir. C’est un des plus magnifiques exemples de courage qu’il ait été donné à l’humanité de contempler, et c’est aussi une admirable preuve de l’amour que notre héros portait à ses concitoyens. Il s’est sacrifié pour l’humanité; pour elle il a donné son corps et son âme, pour elle il a subi les privations, les affronts, les injures, la torture et le martyre. Il a scellé de son sang le pacte de la fraternité universelle, et comme Jésus il a payé de sa vie l’annonce du règne de la concorde, de l’équité et de l’amour du prochain. Plus que tout autre il savait quels dangers formidables il accumulait sur sa tête, il avait pu juger par lui-même de l’exaspération à laquelle le fanatisme savamment excité peut atteindre: mais toutes les réflexions qu’il put faire à ce sujet ne furent point assez puissantes pour le détourner de la voie dans laquelle il avait désormais résolu d’entrer: la peur n’eut aucune prise sur son âme tranquille, sans daigner jeter un regard en arrière, calme, en pleine possession de lui-même, il entra dans la fournaise.”

(A. L. M. Nicolas: “Siyyid ‘Alí-Muḥammad dit le Báb”, pp. 203-204 and 376.)

“Le chef de la religion nouvelle était mort, et suivant les calculs de Mirza Taqi Khan, Premier ministre, la paix la plus profonde allait se rétablir dans les esprits et ne plus être troublée au moins de ce côté-là. Mais la sagesse politique se trouva cette fois en défaut, et au lieu d’éteindre l’incendie on en avait au contraire attisé la violence.” “On le verra tout à l’heure, quand j’examinerai les dogmes religieux prêchés par le Báb: la perpétuité de la secte ne tenait nullement à sa présence; tout pouvait marcher et se développer sans lui. Si le Premier ministre avait eu connaissance de ce point fondamental de la religion ennemie, il est probable qu’il n’eût pas été aussi empressé à faire disparaître un homme dont l’existence, en définitive, ne lui eût pas dès lors importé plus que la mort.”

(Comte de Gobineau’s “Les Religions et les Philosophies dans l’Asie Centrale,” pp. 224 and 225.)

“Such a prophet,” writes the Rev. Dr. T. K. Cheyne, “was the Báb; we call him ‘prophet’ for want of a better name, ‘yea, I say unto you, a prophet and more than a prophet.’ His combination of mildness and power is so rare that we have to place him in a line with super-normal men. We learn that at great points in his career, after he had been in an ecstasy, such radiance of might and majesty streamed from his countenance that none could bear to look upon the effulgence of his glory and beauty. Nor was it an uncommon occurrence for unbelievers involuntarily to bow down in lowly obeisance on beholding His Holiness—while the inmates of the castle though for the most part Christians and Sunnis, reverently prostrated themselves whenever they saw the visage of His Holiness. Such transfiguration is well known to the saints. It was regarded as the affixing of the heavenly seal to the reality and completeness of [the] Báb’s detachment.”

(“The Reconciliation of Races and Religions,” pp. 8–9.)

“Few believe that by these sanguinary measures the doctrines of [the] Báb will cease from propagation. There is a spirit of change abroad among the Persians, which will preserve his system from extinction; besides which, his doctrines are of an attractive nature to Persians. Though now subdued, and obliged to lurk concealed in towns, it is conjectured that the creed of [the] Báb, far from diminishing, is daily spreading.” :(Lady Sheil’s “Glimpses of Life and Manners in Persia,” p. 181.)

“Who can fail to be attracted by the gentle spirit of Mírzá ‘Alí-Muḥammad? His sorrowful and persecuted life; his purity of conduct, and youth; his courage and uncomplaining patience under misfortune; his complete self-negation; the dim ideal of a better state of things which can be discerned through the obscure and mystic utterances of the Bayán; but most of all his tragic death, all serve to enlist our sympathies on behalf of the young Prophet of Shíráz. The irresistible charm which won him such devotion during his life still lives on, and still continues to influence the minds of the Persian people.”

(E. G. Browne’s art. “The Bábí’s of Persia,” Journal of J. R. A. S., 1889, p. 933.)

“The story of the Báb, as Mírzá ‘Alí-Muḥammad called himself, was the story of spiritual heroism unsurpassed in Svabhava’s experience; and his own adventurous soul was fired by it. That a youth of

[Page 35]

Tabríz, Persia.

The ‘Ark’ (Citadel) of Tabríz, where the Báb was confined.

The courtyard of the house of the Shay-khu’l-Islám in Tabríz where the Báb was bastinadoed.

[Page 36] the sun and blinded the eyes of the people. The entire city remained enveloped in that darkness from noon till night. Even so strange a phenomenon, following immediately in the wake of that still more astounding failure of Sám Khán’s regiment to injure the Báb, was unable to move the hearts of the people of Tabríz, and to induce them to pause and reflect upon the significance of such momentous events. They witnessed the effect which so marvellous an occurrence had produced upon Sám Khán; they beheld the consternation of the farrásh-báshí and saw him make his irrevocable decision; they could even examine that tunic which, despite the discharge of so many bullets, had remained whole and stainless; they could read in the face of the Báb, who had emerged unhurt from that storm, the expression of undisturbed serenity as He resumed His conversation with Siyyid Ḥusayn; and yet none of them troubled himself to enquire as to the significance of these unwonted signs and wonders.

The martyrdom of the Báb took place at noon on Sunday, the twenty-eighth of Sha‘bán, in the year 1266 A.H.,¹ thirty-one lunar years, seven months, and twenty-seven days from the day of His birth in Shiráz.

On the evening of that same day, the mangled bodies of the Báb and His companion were removed from the courtyard of the barracks to the edge of the moat outside the gate of the city. Four companies, each consisting of ten sentinels, were ordered to keep watch in turn over them. On the morning following the day of martyrdom, the Russian consul in Tabríz, accompanied by an artist, went to that spot and ordered that a sketch be made of the remains as they lay beside the moat.²

I have heard Ḥájí ‘Alí-‘Askar relate the following: “An official of the Russian consulate, to whom I was related, showed me that same sketch on the very day it was drawn. It was such a faithful portrait of the Báb that I looked upon! No bullet had struck His forehead, His cheeks, or His lips. I gazed upon a smile which seemed to be still lingering upon His countenance. His body, however, had been severely mutilated.

no social influence and no education should, by the simple power of insight, be able to pierce into the heart of things and see the real truth, and then hold on to it with such firmness of conviction and present it with such suasion that he was able to convince men that he was the Messiah and get them to follow him to death itself, was one of those splendid facts in human history that Svabhava loved to meditate on… The Báb’s passionate sincerity could not be doubted, for he had given his life for his faith. And that there must be something in his message that appealed to men and satisfied their souls was witnessed to by the fact that thousands gave their lives in his cause and millions now follow him. If a young man could, in only six years of ministry, by the sincerity of his purpose and the attraction of his personality, so inspire rich and poor, cultured and illiterate, alike, with belief in himself and his doctrines that they would remain staunch though hunted down and without trial sentenced to death, sawn asunder, strangled, shot, blown from guns; and if men of high position and culture in Persia, Turkey and Egypt in numbers to this day adhere to his doctrines, his life must be one of those events in the last hundred years which is really worth study.” (Sir Francis Younghusband’s “The Gleam,” pp. 183–4.) “Thus, in only his thirtieth year, in the year 1850, ended the heroic career of a true God-man. Of the sincerity of his conviction that he was God-appointed, the manner of his death is the amplest possible proof. In the belief that he would thereby save others from the error of their present beliefs he willingly sacrificed his life. And of his power of attaching men to him the passionate devotion of hundreds and even thousands of men who gave their lives in his cause is convincing testimony.” (Ibid., p. 210.) “The Báb was dead, but not Bábísm. He was not the first, and still less the last, of a long line of martyrs who have testified that even in a country gangrened with corruption and atrophied with indifferentism like Persia, the soul of a nation survives, inarticulate perhaps, and in a way helpless, but still capable of sudden spasms of vitality.” (Valentine Chirol’s “The Middle Eastern Question,” p. 120.)

¹ July 9, 1850 A. D.

² “‘The Emperor of Russia,’ he [Ḥájí Mírzá Jání] says, ‘sent to the Russian consul at Tabríz, bidding him fully investigate and report the circumstances of His Holiness the Báb. As Soon as this news arrived, they, i.e. the Persian authorities, put the Báb to death. The Russian consul summoned Áqá Siyyid Muḥammad-i-Ḥusayn, the Báb’s amanuensis, who was imprisoned at Tabríz, into his presence, and enquired concerning the signs and circumstances of His Holiness. Áqá Siyyid Ḥusayn, because there were Musulmans present, dared not speak plainly about his Master, but managed by means of hints to communicate sundry matters, and also gave him [the Russian consul] certain of the Báb’s writings.’ That this statement is, in part at least, true is proved by the testimony of Dorn, who, in describing a M.S. of one of the Báb’s ‘Commentaries on the Names of God’ (which he calls ‘Qur’án der Bábí’) says, on p. 248 of vol. 8 of the Bulletin de l’Academie Imperiale des Sciences de St. Petersbourg, that it was ‘received directly from the Báb’s own secretary, who, during his imprisonment at Tabríz, placed it in European hands.’”

(“The Táríkh-i-Jadíd,” pp. 395–96.)

[Page 37] I could recognise the arms and head of His companion, who seemed to be holding Him in his embrace. As I gazed horror-struck upon that haunting picture, and saw how those noble traits had been disfigured, my heart sank within me. I turned away my face in anguish and, regaining my house, locked myself with my room. For three days and three nights, I could neither sleep nor eat, so overwhelmed was I with emotion. That short and tumultuous life, with all its sorrows, its turmoils, its banishments, and eventually the awe-inspiring martyrdom with which it had been crowned, seemed again to be re-enacted before my eyes. I tossed upon my bed, writhing in agony and pain.”

On the afternoon of the second day after the Báb’s martyrdom, Ḥájí Sulaymán Khán, son of Yaḥyá Khán, arrived at Bágh-Mishih, a suburb of Tabríz, and was received at the house of the Kalantar,¹ one of his friends and confidants, who was a dervish and belonged to the Súfí community. As soon as he had been informed of the imminent danger that threatened the life of the Báb, Ḥájí Sulaymán Khán had left Ṭihrán with the object of achieving His deliverance. To his dismay, he arrived too late to carry out his intention. No sooner had his host informed him of the circumstances that had led to the arrest and condemnation of the Báb, and related to him the events of His martyrdom, than he instantly resolved to carry away the bodies of the victims, even at the risk of endangering his own life. The Kalantar advised him to wait and follow his suggestion rather than expose himself to what seemed to him would be inevitable death. He urged him to transfer his residence to another house and to wait for the arrival, that evening, of a certain Ḥájí Alláh-Yár, who, he said, would be willing to carry out whatever he might wish him to do. At the appointed hour, Ḥájí Sulaymán Khán met Ḥájí Alláh-Yár, who succeeded, in the middle of that same night, in bearing the bodies from the edge of the moat to the silk factory owned by one of the believers of Mílán; laid them, the next day, in a specially constructed wooden case, and transferred them, according to Ḥájí Sulaymán Khán’s directions, to a place of safety. Meanwhile the sentinels sought to justify themselves by pretending that, while they slept, wild beasts had carried away the bodies.² Their superiors, on their part, unwilling to compromise their own honour, concealed the truth and did not divulge it to the authorities.³

Ḥájí Sulaymán Khán immediately reported the matter to Bahá’u’lláh, who was then in Ṭihrán and who instructed Áqáy-i-Kalím to despatch a special messenger to Tabríz for the purpose of transferring the bodies to the capital. This decision was prompted by the wish the Báb Himself had expressed in the “Zíyárat-i-Sháh-‘Abdu’l-‘Aẓím,” a Tablet He had revealed while in the neighbourhood of that shrine and which He delivered to a certain Mírzá Sulaymán-i-Khaṭíb, who was instructed by Him to proceed together with a number of believers to that spot and to chant it within its precincts.⁴ “Well is it with you,” the Báb ad-

¹ See Glossary.

² “Suivant un usage immémorial en Orient, usage en vigueur au siège de Béthulie comme autour du tombeau de Notre-Seigneur, une sentinelle est un guerrier qui dort de son mieux auprès du poste qu’il est chargé de garder.”

(Comte de Gobineau’s “Religions et Philosophies dans l’Asie Centrale”, p. 166.)

“On a pu voir au cours de cette histoire ce que sont les sentinelles persanes: leurs fonctions consistent essentiellement à dormir auprès du dépôt qu’ils sont sensés garder.”

(A. L. M. Nicolas’ “Siyyid ‘Alí-Muḥammad dit le Báb,” p. 378.)

³ “M. de Gobineau, d’accord en cela avec les auteurs du Násikhu’t-Taváríkh, du Rawḍatu’ṣ-Ṣafá, du Mir’átu’l-Buldán, en un mot avec tous les historiens officiels, rapporte qu’après l’exécution, le cadavre du Báb fut jeté dans les fossés de la ville et dévoré par les chiens. En réalité il n’en a pas été ainsi, et nous allons voir pourquoi ce bruit a été répandu tant par les autorités de Tauris peu soucieuses de s’attirer les réprimandes du gouvernement pour une complaisance chèrement vendue, que par les Bábis désireux de prévenir ainsi les recherches de la police. Les témoignages les plus sûrs des spectateurs même du drame ou de ses acteurs ne me laissent aucun doute que le corps de Siyyid ’Ali-Muhammad n’ait été recueilli par des mains pieuses et n’ait enfin, après les péripéties que je vais raconter, reçu une sépulture digne de lui.”

(A. L. M. Nicolas’ “Siyyid ‘Alí-Muḥammad dit le Báb,” p. 377.)

⁴ “Ṭihrán is thus endowed in respect of the mausoleum and sanctuary of Sháh ‘Abdu’l-‘Aẓím. Reposing beneath a golden-plated dome, whose scintillations I had seen from afar while riding towards the city, the remains of this holy individual are said to attract an annual visitation of 300 thousand persons. I find

[Page 38]

The Bahá’ís of Mandalay, Burma, with the marble casket offered by them for the remains of the Báb.

[Page 39] dressed the buried saint in words such as these, in the concluding passages of that Tablet, “to have found your resting place in Rayy, under the shadow of My Beloved. Would that I might be entombed within the precincts of that holy ground!”

I was myself in Ṭihrán, in the company of Mírzá Aḥmad, when the bodies of the Báb and His companion arrived. Bahá’u’lláh had in the meantime departed for Karbilá, in pursuance of the instructions of the Amír-Niẓám. Áqáy-i-Kalím, together with Mírzá Aḥmad, transferred those remains from the Imám-Zádih-Ḥasan,¹ where they were first taken, to a place the site of which remained unknown to anyone excepting themselves. That place remained secret until the departure of Bahá’u’lláh for Adrianople, at which time Áqáy-i-Kalím was charged to inform Munír, one of his fellow-disciples, of the actual site where the bodies had been laid. In spite of his search, he was unable to find it. It was subsequently discovered by Jamál, an old adherent of the Faith, to whom that secret was confided while Bahá’u’lláh was still in Adrianople. That spot is, until now, unknown to the believers, nor can anyone conjecture where the remains will eventually be transferred.

The first in Ṭihrán to hear of the circumstances attending that cruel martyrdom, after the Grand Vazír, was Mírzá Áqá Khán-i-Núrí, who had been banished to Káshán by Muḥammad Sháh when the Báb was passing through that city. He had assured Ḥájí Mírzá Jání, who had acquainted him with the precepts of the Faith, that if the love he bore for the new Revelation would cause him to regain his lost position, he would exert his utmost endeavour to secure the well-being and safety of the persecuted community. Ḥájí Mírzá Jání reported the matter to his Master, who charged him to assure the disgraced minister that ere long he would be summoned to Ṭihrán and would be invested, by his sovereign, with a position that would be second to none except that of the Sháh himself. He was warned not to forget his promise, and to strive to carry out his intention. He was delighted with that message, and renewed the assurance he had given.

When the news of the Báb’s martyrdom reached him, he had already been promoted, had received the title of I‘timádu’d-Dawlih, and was hoping to be raised to the position of Grand Vazír. He hastened to inform Bahá’u’lláh, with whom he was intimately acquainted, of the news he had received, expressing the hope that the fire he feared would one day bring untold calamity upon Him, was at last extinguished. “Not so,” Bahá’u’lláh replied. “If this be true, you can be certain that the flame that has been kindled will, by this very act, blaze forth more fiercely than ever, and will set up a conflagration such as the combined forces of the statesmen of this realm will be powerless to quench.” The significance of these words Mírzá Áqá Khán was destined to appreciate at a later time. Scarcely did he imagine, when that prediction was uttered, that the Faith which had received so staggering a blow could survive its Author. He himself had, on one occasion, been cured by Bahá’u’lláh of an illness from which he had given up all hope of recovery.

His son, the Niẓámu’l-Mulk, one day asked him whether he did not think that Bahá’u’lláh, who, of all the sons of the late Vazír, had shown Himself the most capable, had failed to live up to the tradition of His father and had disappointed the hopes that had been reposed in Him.

that most writers discreetly veil their ignorance of the identity of the saint by describing him as ‘a holy Musulman, whose shrine is much frequented by the pious Ṭihránís. It appears, however, that long before the advent of Islám this had been a sacred spot, as the sepulchre of a lady of great sanctity, in which connection it may be noted that the shrine is still largely patronised by women. Here, after the Musulman conquest, was interred Imám-Zádih Ḥamzih, the son of the seventh Imám, Músá-Káẓim; and here, flying from the Khalíf Mutavakkil, came a holy personage named Abu’l-Qásim ‘Abdu’l-‘Aẓím, who lived in concealment at Rayy till his death in about 861 A.D. (This is the account given by the Persian Kitáb-i-Majlisí, quoting Shaykh Najáshí, quoting Barkí.) Subsequently his fame obscured that of his more illustrious predecessor. Successive sovereigns, particularly those of the reigning dynasty, have extended and beautified the cluster of buildings raised above his grave, the ever-swelling popularity of which has caused a considerable village to spring up around the hallowed site. The mosque is situated in the plain, about six miles to the south-southeast of the capital, just beyond the ruins of Rayy, and at the extremity of the mountain-spur that encloses the Ṭihrán plain the southeast.”

(Lord Curzon’s “Persia and the Persian Question,” pp. 345–47.)

¹ A local shrine in Ṭihrán.

[Page 40]“My son,” he replied, “do you really believe him to be an unworthy son of his father? All that either of us can hope to achieve is but a fleeting and precarious allegiance which will vanish as soon as our days are ended. Our mortal life can never be free from the vicissitudes that beset the path of earthly ambition. Should we even succeed in ensuring, in our lifetime, the honour of our name, who can tell whether, after our death, calumny may not stain our memory and undo the work we have achieved? Even those who, while we are still living, honour us with their lips would, in their hearts, condemn and vilify us were we, for but one moment, to fail to promote their interests. Not so, however, with Bahá’u’lláh. Unlike the great ones of the earth, whatever be their race or rank, he is the object of a love and devotion such as time cannot dim nor enemy destroy. His sovereignty the shadows of death can never obscure nor the tongue of the slanderer undermine. Such is the sway of his influence that no among his loves dare, in the stillness of night, evoke the memory of the faintest desire that could, even remotely, be construed as contrary to his wish. Such lovers will greatly increase in number. The love they bear him will never grow less, and will be transmitted from generation to generation until the world shall have been suffused with its glory.”

The malicious persistence with which a savage enemy sought to ill-treat and eventually to destroy the life of the Báb brought in its wake untold calamities upon Persia and its inhabitants. The men who perpetrated these atrocities fell victims to gnawing remorse, and in an incredibly short period were made to suffer ignominious deaths. As to the great mass of its people, who watched with sullen indifference the tragedy that was being enacted before their eyes, and who failed to raise a finger in protest against the hideousness of those cruelties, they fell, in their turn, victims to a misery which all the resources of the land and the energy of its statesmen were powerless to alleviate. The wind of adversity blew fiercely upon them, and shook to its foundations their material prosperity. From the very day the hand of the assailant was stretched forth against the Báb, and sought to deal its fatal blow, to His Faith, visitation upon visitation crushed the spirit out of that ungrateful people, and brought them to the very brink of national bankruptcy. Plagues, the very names of which were almost unknown to them except for a cursory reference in the dust-covered books which few cared to read, fell upon them with a fury that none could escape. That scourge scattered devastation wherever it spread. Prince and peasant alike felt its sting and bowed to its yoke. It held the populace in its grip, and refused to relax its hold upon them. As malignant as the fever which decimated the province of Gílán, these sudden afflictions continued to lay waste the land. Grievous as were these calamities, the avenging wrath of God did not stop at the misfortunes that befell a perverse and faithless people. It made itself felt in every living being that breathed on the surface of that stricken land. It affected the life of plants and animals alike, and made the people feel the magnitude of their distress. Famine added its horrors to the stupendous weight of afflictions under which the people were groaning. The gaunt spectre of starvation stalked abroad amidst them, and the prospect of a slow and painful death haunted their vision. People and government alike sighed for the relief which they could nowhere obtain. They drank the cup of woe to its dregs, utterly unregardful of the hand which had brought it to their lips, and of the Person for whose sake they were made to suffer.

The first who arose to ill-treat the Báb was none other than Ḥusayn Khán, the governor of Shíráz. His disgraceful treatment of his Captive cost him the lives of thousands who had been committed to his protection and who connived at his acts. His province was ravaged by a plague which brought it to the verge of destruction. Impoverished and exhausted, Fárs languished helpless beneath its weight, calling for the charity of its neighbours and the assistance of its friends. Ḥusayn Khán himself witnessed with bitterness the undoing of all his labours, was condemned to lead in obscurity the remaining days of his life, and tottered to his grave, abandoned and for-

[Page 41]

The Tomb of the Báb on Mount Carmel flood-lighted.

A view of Bahjí from the Fortress of ‘Akká, Palestine.

[Page 42]gotten, alike by his friends and his enemies.

The next who sought to challenge the Faith of the Báb and to stem its progress was Ḥájí Mírzá Áqásí. It was he who, for selfish purposes and in order to court the favour of the abject ‘ulamás of his time, interposed between the Báb and Muḥammad Sháh and endeavoured to prevent their meeting. It was he who pronounced the banishment of his dreaded Captive to a sequestered corner of Ádhirbáyján and, with dogged vigilance, kept watch over His isolation. It was he who was made the recipient of that denunciatory Tablet in which his Prisoner foreshadowed his doom and exposed his infamy. Barely a year and six months had passed after the Báb had reached the neighbourhood of Ṭihrán, when Divine vengeance hurled him from power and drove him to seek shelter within the inglorious precincts of the shrine of Sháh-‘Abdu’l-‘Aẓím, a refugee from the wrath of his own people. From thence the hand of the Avenger drove him into exile beyond the confines of his native land, and plunged him into an ocean of afflictions until he met his death in circumstances of abject poverty and unspeakable distress.

As to the regiment which, despite the unaccountable failure of Sám Khán and his men to destroy the life of the Báb, had volunteered to renew that attempt, and which eventually riddled His body with its bullets, two hundred and fifty of its members met their death in that same year, together with their officers, in a terrible earthquake. While they were resting on a hot summer day under the shadow of a wall on their way between Ardibíl and Tabríz, absorbed in their games and pleasures, the whole structure suddenly collapsed and fell upon them, leaving not one survivor. The remaining five hundred suffered the same fate as that which their own hands had inflicted upon the Báb. Three years after His martyrdom, that regiment mutinied, and its members were thereupon mercilessly shot by command of Mírzá Ṣádiq Khán-i-Núrí. Not content with a first volley, he ordered that a second one be fired in order to ensure that none of the mutineers had survived. Their bodies were afterwards pierced with spears and lances, and left exposed to the gaze of the people of Tabríz. That day many of the inhabitants of the city, recalling the circumstances of the Báb’s martyrdom, wondered at that same fate which had overtaken those who had slain Him. “Could it be, by any chance, the vengeance of God,” a few were heard to whisper to one another, “that has brought the whole regiment to so dishonourable and tragic an end? If that youth had been a lying impostor, why should his persecutors have been so severely punished?” These expressed misgivings reached the ears of the leading mujtahids of the city, who were seized with great fear and ordered that all those who entertained such doubts should be severely punished. Some were beaten, others were fined, all were warned to cease such whisperings, which could only revive the memory of a terrible adversary and rekindle enthusiasm for His Cause.

The prime mover of the forces that precipitated the Báb’s martyrdom, the Amír-Niẓám, and also his brother, the Vazír-Niẓám, his chief accomplice, were, within two years of that savage act, subjected to a dreadful punishment, which ended miserably in their death. The blood of the Amír-Niẓám stains, to this very day, the wall of the bath of Fín,¹ a witness to the atrocities his own hand had wrought.

¹ “It is true,” writes Lord Curzon, “that his (Náṣiri’d-Dín Sháh’s) reign has been disfigured by one or two acts of regrettable violence; worst among which was the murder of his first Prime Minister, Mírzá Taqí Khán, the Amír-Niẓám . . . The brother-in-law of the Sháh, and the first subject in the kingdom, he owed the vindictiveness of court intrigue and to the maliciously excited jealously of his youthful sovereign, a disgrace which his enemies were not satisfied until they had fulfilled by the death of their fallen, but still formidable victim.”

(Persia and the Persian Question, vol. 1, p. 402.)

² “Tout le monde savait que les Bábís avaient prédit la fin prochaine du Premier ministre et annoncé son genre de mort. Cela eut lieu exactement, dit-on, comme l’avaient annoncé les martyrs de Zanján, Mírzá Riḍá, Ḥájí Muḥammad-‘Alí et Ḥájí Muḥsin. Le ministre, tombé en disgrâce et poursuivi par la haine royale, eut les veines ouvertes au village de Fin, près de Káshán, comme les avaient eues ses suppliciés. Son successeur fut Mírzá Áqá Khán-i-Núrí, d’une tribu noble du Mázindarán, et jusqu’alors ministre de la Guerre. Ce nouveau dépositaire du pouvoir prit le titre de Ṣadr-i-A‘ẓam, que portent les grand vazirs de l’empire ottoman. On était alors en 1852.”

(Comte de Gobineau’s “Les Religions et les Philosophies dans l’Asie Centrale”, p. 230.)