Ḳuddus, was (as I have suggested already) the most conspicuous
Bābī next to the Bāb himself, however hard we may find it to
understand him on certain occasions indicated by Prof. Browne. He
seems, for instance, to have lacked that tender sense of life
characteristic of the Buddhists, and to have indulged a spiritual
ambition which Jesus would not have approved. But it is unimportant to
pick holes in such a genuine saint. I would rather lay stress on his
unwillingness to think evil even of his worst foes. And how abominable
was the return he met with! Weary of fighting, the Bābīs yielded
themselves up to the royal troops. As Prof. Browne says, 'they were
received with an apparent friendliness and even respect which served
to lull them into a false security and to render easy the perfidious
massacre wherein all but a few of them perished on the morrow of their
surrender.'
The same historian tells us that Ḳuddus, loyal as ever, requested
the Prince to send him to Tihran, there to undergo judgment before the
Shah. The Prince was at first disposed to grant this request, thinking
perhaps that to bring so notable a captive into the Royal Presence
might serve to obliterate in some measure the record of those repeated
failures to which his unparalleled incapacity had given rise. But when
the Sa'idu'l-'Ulama heard of this plan, and saw a possibility of his
hated foe escaping from his clutches, he went at once to the Prince,
and strongly represented to him the danger of allowing one so eloquent
and so plausible to plead his cause before the King. These arguments
were backed up by an offer to pay the Prince a sum of 400 (or, as
others say, of 1000) _tumāns_ on condition that Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus
should be surrendered unconditionally into his hands. To this
arrangement the Prince, whether moved by the arguments or the
_tumāns_ of the Sa'idu'l-'Ulama, eventually consented, and
Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus was delivered over to his inveterate enemy.
'The execution took place in the _meydan_, or public square, of Barfurush.
The Sa'idu'l-'Ulama first cut off the ears of Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus, and
tortured him in other ways, and then killed him with the blow of an
axe. One of the Sa'idu'l-'Ulama's disciples then severed the head from
the lifeless body, and others poured naphtha over the corpse and set
fire to it. The fire, however, as the Bābīs relate (for
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel corroborates the _Parikh-i-Jadid_ in this particular),
refused to burn the holy remains; and so the Sa'idu'l-'Ulama gave
orders that the body should be cut in pieces, and these pieces cast
far and wide. This was done, but, as Haji Mirza Jani relates, certain
Bābīs not known as such to their fellow-townsmen came at night,
collected the scattered fragments, and buried them in an old ruined
_madrasa_ or college hard by. By this _madrasa_, as the Bābī
historian relates, had Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus once passed in the company
of a friend with whom he was conversing on the transitoriness of this
world, and to it he had pointed to illustrate his words, saying, "This
college, for instance, was once frequented, and is now deserted and
neglected; a little while hence they will bury here some great man,
and many will come to visit his grave, and again it will be frequented
and thronged with people."' When the Baha'is are more conscious of
the preciousness of their own history, this prophecy may be fulfilled,
and Ḳuddus be duly honoured.
SAYYID YAḤYA DARABI
Sayyid Yaḥya derived his surname Darabi from his birthplace Darab,
near Shiraz. His father was Sayyid Ja'far, surnamed Kashfi, i.e.
discloser (of the divine secrets). Neither father nor son, however,
was resident at Darab at the period of this narrative. The father was
at Buzurg, and the son, probably, at Tihran. So great was the
excitement caused by the appearance of the Bāb that Muḥammad Shah
and his minister thought it desirable to send an expert to inquire
into the new Teacher's claims. They selected Sayyid Yaḥya, 'one of
the best known of doctors and Sayyids, as well as an object of
veneration and confidence,' even in the highest quarters. The mission
was a failure, however, for the royal commissioner, instead of
devising some practical compromise, actually went over to the Bāb,
in other words, gave official sanction to the innovating party.
[Footnote: _TN_, pp. 7, 854; Nicolas, _AMB_, pp. 233, 388.]
The tale is an interesting one. The Bāb at first treated the
commissioner rather cavalierly. A Bābī theologian was told off to
educate him; the Bāb himself did not grant him an audience. To this
Bābī representative Yaḥya confided that he had some inclination
towards Bābism, and that a miracle performed by the Bāb in his
presence would make assurance doubly sure. To this the Bābī is
said to have answered, 'For such as have like us beheld a thousand
marvels stranger than the fabled cleaving of the moon to demand a
miracle or sign from that Perfect Truth would be as though we should
seek light from a candle in the full blaze of the radiant sun.'
[Footnote: _NH_, p. 122.] Indeed, what marvel could be greater
than that of raising the spiritually dead, which the Bāb and his
followers were constantly performing? [Footnote: Accounts of miracles
were spiritualized by the Bāb.]
It was already much to have read the inspired "signs," or verses,
communicated by the Bāb, but how much more would it be to see his
Countenance! The time came for the Sayyid's first interview with the
Master. There was still, however, in his mind a remainder of the
besetting sin of mullās'--arrogance,--and the Bāb's answers to the
questions of his guest failed to produce entire conviction. The Sayyid
was almost returning home, but the most learned of the disciples bade
him wait a little longer, till he too, like themselves, would see
clearly. [Footnote: _NH_, p. 114.] The truth is that the Bāb
committed the first part of the Sayyid's conversion to his disciples.
The would-be disciple had, like any novice, to be educated, and the
Bāb, in his first two interviews with the Sayyid, was content to
observe how far this process had gone.
It was in the third interview that the two souls really met. The
Sayyid had by this time found courage to put deep theological
questions, and received correspondingly deep answers. The Bāb then
wrote on the spot a commentary on the 108th Sura of the Ḳur'an.
[Footnote: Nicolas, p. 233.] In this commentary what was the Sayyid's
surprise to find an explanation which he had supposed to be his own
original property! He now submitted entirely to the power of
attraction and influence [Footnote: _NH_, p. 115.] exercised so
constantly, when He willed, by the Master. He took the Bāb for his
glorious model, and obtained the martyr's crown in the second Niriz
war.
MULLĀ MUḤAMMAD 'ALI OF ZANJAN
He was a native of Mazandaran, and a disciple of a celebrated teacher
at the holy city of Karbala, decorated with the title Sharifu-'l Ulama
('noblest of the Ulama'). He became a _mujtah[ī]d_ ('an authority on
hard religious questions') at Zanjan, the capital of the small
province of Khamsa, which lay between Iraḳ and Azarbaijan. Muslim
writers affirm that in his functions of _mujtahād_ he displayed a
restless and intolerant spirit, [Footnote: Gobineau; Nicolas.] and he
himself confesses to having been 'proud and masterful.' We can,
however, partly excuse one who had no congeniality with the narrow
Shi'ite system prevalent in Persia. It is clear, too, that his
teaching (which was that of the sect of the Akhbaris), [Footnote:
_NH_, pp. 138, 349.] was attractive to many. He declares that two or
three thousand families in Khamsa were wholly devoted to him.
[Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 350.]
At the point at which this brief sketch begins, our mullā was
anxiously looking out for the return of his messenger Mash-hadi
Aḥmad from Shiraz with authentic news of the reported Divine
Manifestation. When the messenger returned he found Mullā Muḥammad
'Ali in the mosque about to give a theological lecture. He handed over
the letter to his Master, who, after reading it, at once turned to his
disciples, and uttered these words: 'To search for a roof after one
has arrived at one's destination is a shameful thing. To search for
knowledge when one is in possession of one's object is supererogatory.
Close your lips [in surprise], for the Master has arisen; apprehend
the news thereof. The sun which points out to us the way we should go,
has appeared; the night of error and of ignorance is brought to
nothing.' With a loud voice he then recited the prayer of Friday,
which is to replace the daily prayer when the Imām appears.
The conversion [Footnote: For Muḥammad 'Ali's own account, see
Nicolas, _AMB_, pp. 349, 350.] of Mullā Muḥammad 'Ali had
important results, though the rescue of the Bāb was not permitted to
be one of them. The same night on which the Bāb arrived at Zanjan on
his way to Tabriz and Maku, Mullā Muḥammad 'Ali was secretly
conveyed to Tihran. In this way one dangerous influence, much dreaded
at court, was removed. And in Tihran he remained till the death of
Muḥammad Shah, and the accession of Nasiru'd-din Shah. The new Shah
received him graciously, and expressed satisfaction that the Mullā
had not left Tihran without leave. He now gave him express permission
to return to Zanjan, which accordingly the Mullā lost no time in
doing. The hostile mullās, however, were stirred up to jealousy
because of the great popularity which Muḥammad 'Ali had
acquired. Such was the beginning of the famous episode of Zanjan.
ḲURRATU'L 'AYN
Among the Heroes of God was another glorious saint and martyr of the
new society, originally called Zarrin Taj ('Golden Crown'), but
afterwards better known as Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn ('Refreshment of the
Eyes') or Jenab-i-Tahira ('Her Excellency the Pure, Immaculate'). She
was the daughter of the 'sage of Kazwin,' Haji Mullā Salih, an
eminent jurist, who (as we shall see) eventually married her to her
cousin Mullā Muḥammad. Her father-in-law and uncle was also a
mullā, and also called Muḥammad; he was conspicuous for his bitter
hostility to the Sheykhi and the Bābī sects. Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn
herself had a flexible and progressive mind, and shrank from no
theological problem, old or new. She absorbed with avidity the latest
religious novelties, which were those of the Bāb, and though not
much sympathy could be expected from most of her family, yet there was
one of her cousins who was favourable like herself to the claims of
the Bāb. Her father, too, though he upbraided his daughter for her
wilful adhesion to 'this Shiraz lad,' confessed that he had not taken
offence at any claim which she advanced for herself, whether to be the
Bāb or _even more than that_.
Now I cannot indeed exonerate the 'sage of Kazwin' from all
responsibility for connecting his daughter so closely with a bitter
enemy of the Bāb, but I welcome his testimony to the manifold
capacities of his daughter, and his admission that there were not only
extraordinary men but extraordinary women qualified even to represent
God, and to lead their less gifted fellow-men or fellow-women up the
heights of sanctity. The idea of a woman-Bāb is so original that it
almost takes one's breath away, and still more perhaps does the
view--modestly veiled by the Haji--that certain men and even women are
of divine nature scandalize a Western till it becomes clear that the
two views are mutually complementary. Indeed, the only difference in
human beings is that some realize more, and some less, or even not at
all, the fact of the divine spark in their composition. Ḳurratu'l
'Ayn certainly did realize her divinity. On one occasion she even
reproved one of her companions for not at once discerning that she was
the _Ḳibla_ towards which he ought to pray. This is no poetical
conceit; it is meant as seriously as the phrase, 'the Gate,' is meant
when applied to Mirza 'Ali Muḥammad. We may compare it with another
honorific title of this great woman--'The Mother of the World.'
The love of God and the love of man were in fact equally prominent in
the character of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and the Glorious One (el-Abha) had
endowed her not only with moral but with high intellectual gifts. It
was from the head of the Sheykhi sect (Haji Sayyid Kaẓim) that she
received her best-known title, and after the Sayyid's death it was she
who (see below) instructed his most advanced disciples; she herself,
indeed, was more advanced than any, and was essentially, like Symeon
in St. Luke's Gospel, a waiting soul. As yet, it appears, the young
Shiraz Reformer had not heard of her. It was a letter which she wrote
after the death of the Sayyid to Mullā Ḥuseyn of Bushraweyh which
brought her rare gifts to the knowledge of the Bāb. Ḥuseyn himself
was not commissioned to offer Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn as a member of the new
society, but the Bāb 'knew what was in man,' and divined what the
gifted woman was desiring. Shortly afterwards she had opportunities of
perusing theological and devotional works of the Bāb, by which, says
Mirza Jani, 'her conversion was definitely effected.' This was at
Karbala, a place beyond the limits of Persia, but dear to all Shi'ites
from its associations. It appears that Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn had gone
thither chiefly to make the acquaintance of the great Sheykhite
teacher, Sayyid Kaẓim.
Great was the scandal of both clergy and laity when this fateful step
of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn became known at Kazwin. Greater still must it have
been if (as Gobineau states) she actually appeared in public without a
veil. Is this true? No, it is not true, said Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, when
questioned on this point by Browne. Now and then, when carried away by
her eloquence, she would allow the veil to slip down off her face, but
she would always replace it. The tradition handed on in Baha-'ullah's
family is different, and considering how close was the bond between
Bāhāa and Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, I think it safer to follow the family
of Bāhā, which in this case involves agreeing with Gobineau. This
noble woman, therefore, has the credit of opening the catalogue of
social reforms in Persia. Presently I shall have occasion to refer to
this again.
Mirza Jani confirms this view. He tells us that after being converted,
our heroine 'set herself to proclaim and establish the doctrine,' and
that this she did 'seated behind a curtain.' We are no doubt meant to
suppose that those of her hearers who were women were gathered round
the lecturer behind the curtain. It was not in accordance with
conventions that men and women should be instructed together, and
that--horrible to say--by a woman. The governor of Karbala determined
to arrest her, but, though without a passport, she made good her
escape to Baghdad. There she defended her religious position before
the chief mufti. The secular authorities, however, ordered her to
quit Turkish territory and not return.
The road which she took was that by Kirmanshah and Hamadan (both in
Iraḳ; the latter, the humiliated representative of Ecbatana). Of
course, Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn took the opportunity of preaching her Gospel,
which was not a scheme of salvation or redemption, but 'certain subtle
mysteries of the divine' to which but few had yet been privileged to
listen. The names of some of her hearers are given; we are to suppose
that some friendly theologians had gathered round her, partly as an
escort, and partly attracted by her remarkable eloquence. Two of them
we shall meet with presently in another connection. It must not, of
course, be supposed that all minds were equally open. There were some
who raised objections to Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and wrote a letter to the
Bāb, complaining of her. The Bāb returned discriminating answers,
the upshot of which was that her homilies were to be considered as
inspired. We are told that these same objectors repented, which
implies apparently that the Bāb's spiritual influence was effectual
at a distance.
Other converts were made at the same places, and the idea actually
occurred to her that she might put the true doctrine before the
Shah. It was a romantic idea (Muḥammad Shah was anything thing but a
devout and believing Muslim), not destined to be realized. Her father
took the alarm and sent for her to come home, and, much to her credit,
she gave filial obedience to his summons. It will be observed that it
is the father who issues his orders; no husband is mentioned. Was it
not, then, most probably on _this_ return of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn
that the maiden was married to Mullā Muḥammad, the eldest son of
Haji Mullā Muḥammad Taḳi. Mirza Jani does not mention this, but
unless our heroine made two journeys to Karbala, is it not the easiest
way of understanding the facts? The object of the 'sage of Kazwin'
was, of course, to prevent his daughter from traversing the country as
an itinerant teacher. That object was attained. I will quote from an
account which claims to be from Haji Muḥammad Hamami, who had been
charged with this delicate mission by the family.
'I conducted Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn into the house of her father, to whom I
rendered an account of what I had seen. Haji Mullā Taḳi, who was
present at the interview, showed great irritation, and recommended all
the servants to prevent "this woman" from going out of the house under
any pretext whatsoever, and not to permit any one to visit her without
his authority. Thereupon he betook himself to the traveller's room,
and tried to convince her of the error in which she was entangled. He
entirely failed, however, and, furious before that settled calm and
earnestness, was led to curse the Bāb and to load him with
insults. Then Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn looked into his face, and said to him,
"Woe unto thee, for I see thy mouth filling with blood."'
Such is the oral tradition which our informant reproduces. In
criticizing it, we may admit that the gift of second sight was
possessed by the Bābī and Bahai leaders. But this particular
anecdote respecting our heroine is (may I not say?) very
improbable. To curse the Bāb was not the way for an uncle to
convince his erring niece. One may, with more reason, suppose that
her father and uncle trusted to the effect of matrimony, and committed
the transformation of the lady to her cousin Mullā Muḥammad. True,
this could not last long, and the murder of Taḳi in the mosque of
Kazwin must have precipitated Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn's resolution to divorce
her husband (as by Muḥammadan law she was entitled to do) and leave
home for ever. It might, however, have gone hardly with her if she
had really uttered the prophecy related above. Evidently her husband,
who had accused her of complicity in the crime, had not heard of
it. So she was acquitted. The Bāb, too, favoured the suggestion of
her leaving home, and taking her place among his missionaries.
[Footnote: Nicolas, _AMB_, p. 277.] At the dead of night, with
an escort of Bābīs, she set out ostensibly for Khurasan. The route
which she really adopted, however, took her by the forest-country of
Mazandaran, where she had the leisure necessary for pondering the
religious situation.
The sequel was dramatic. After some days and nights of quietude, she
suddenly made her appearance in the hamlet of Badasht, to which place
a representative conference of Bābīs had been summoned.
The object of the conference was to correct a widespread
misunderstanding. There were many who thought that the new leader
came, in the most literal sense, to fulfil the Islamic Law. They
realized, indeed, that the object of Muḥammad was to bring about an
universal kingdom of righteousness and peace, but they thought this
was to be effected by wading through streams of blood, and with the
help of the divine judgments. The Bāb, on the other hand, though not
always consistent, was moving, with some of his disciples, in the
direction of moral suasion; his only weapon was 'the sword of the
Spirit, which is the word of God.' When the Ḳa'im appeared all
things would be renewed. But the Ḳa'im was on the point of
appearing, and all that remained was to prepare for his Coming. No
more should there be any distinction between higher and lower races,
or between male and female. No more should the long, enveloping veil
be the badge of woman's inferiority.
The gifted woman before us had her own characteristic solution of the
problem. So, doubtless, had the other Bābī leaders who were
present, such as Ḳuddus and Baha-'ullah, the one against, the other
in favour of social reforms.
It is said, in one form of tradition, that Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn herself
attended the conference with a veil on. If so, she lost no time in
discarding it, and broke out (we are told) into the fervid
exclamation, 'I am the blast of the trumpet, I am the call of the
bugle,' i.e. 'Like Gabriel, I would awaken sleeping souls.' It
is said, too, that this short speech of the brave woman was followed
by the recitation by Baha-'ullah of the Sura of the Resurrection
(lxxv.). Such recitations often have an overpowering effect.
The inner meaning of this was that mankind was about to pass into a
new cosmic cycle, for which a new set of laws and customs would be
indispensable.
There is also a somewhat fuller tradition. Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn was in
Mazandaran, and so was also Baha'ullah. The latter was taken ill, and
Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, who was an intimate friend of his, was greatly
concerned at this. For two days she saw nothing of him, and on the
third sent a message to him to the effect that she could keep away no
longer, but must come to see him, not, however, as hitherto, but with
her head uncovered. If her friend disapproved of this, let him
censure her conduct. He did not disapprove, and on the way to see him,
she proclaimed herself the trumpet blast.
At any rate, it was this bold act of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn which shook the
foundations of a literal belief in Islamic doctrines among the
Persians. It may be added that the first-fruits of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn's
teaching was no one less than the heroic Ḳuddus, and that the
eloquent teacher herself owed her insight probably to Baha-'ullah. Of
course, the supposition that her greatest friend might censure her is
merely a delightful piece of irony. [Footnote: _NH_, pp. 357-358.]
I have not yet mentioned the long address assigned to our heroine by
Mirza Jani. It seems to me, in its present form, improbable, and yet
the leading ideas may have been among those expressed by the
prophetess. If so, she stated that the laws of the previous
dispensation were abrogated, and that laws in general were only
necessary till men had learnt to comprehend the Perfection of the
Doctrine of the Unity. 'And should men not be able to receive the
Doctrine of the Unity at the beginning of the Manifestation,
ordinances and restrictions will again be prescribed for them.' It is
not wonderful that the declaration of an impending abrogation of Law
was misinterpreted, and converted into a licence for Antinomianism.
Mirza Jani mentions, but with some reticence, the unseemly conduct of
some of the Bābīs.
There must, however, have been some who felt the spell of the great
orator, and such an one is portrayed by Mme. H. Dreyfus, in her
dramatic poem _God's Heroes_, under the name of 'Ali. I will
quote here a little speech of 'Ali's, and also a speech of Ḳurratu'l
'Ayn, because they seem to me to give a more vivid idea of the scene
than is possible for a mere narrator. [Footnote: _God's Heroes_,
by Laura Clifford Barney [Paris, 1909], p. 64, Act III.]
'ALI
'Soon we shall leave Badasht: let us leave it filled with the Gospel
of life! Let our lives show what we, sincere Muḥammadans, have
become through our acceptance of the Bāb, the Mahdi, who has
awakened us to the esoteric meaning of the Resurrection Day. Let us
fill the souls of men with the glory of the revealed word. Let us
advance with arms extended to the stranger. Let us emancipate our
women, reform our society. Let us arise out of our graves of
superstition and of self, and pronounce that the Day of Judgment is at
hand; then shall the whole earth respond to the quickening power of
regeneration!'
QURRATU'L-'AIN
(_Deeply moved and half to herself._)
'I feel impelled to help unveil the Truth to these men assembled. If
my act be good the result will be good; if bad, may it affect me
alone!
'(_Advances majestically with face unveiled, and as she walks
towards Baha-'ullah's tent, addresses the men._) That sound of the
trumpet which ushers in the Day of Judgment is my call to you now!
Rise, brothers! The Quran is completed, the new era has begun. Know me
as your sister, and let all barriers of the past fall down before our
advancing steps. We teach freedom, action, and love. That sound of the
trumpet, it is I! That blast of the trumpet, it is I!
(_Exit_ Qurratu'l 'Ain.)'
On the breaking up of the Council our heroine joined a large party of
Bābīs led by her great friend Ḳuddus. On their arrival in Nūr,
however, they separated, she herself staying in that district. There
she met Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, who is said to have rendered her many
services. But before long the people of Mazandaran surrendered the
gifted servant of truth to the Government.
We next meet with her in confinement at Tihran. There she was treated
at first with the utmost gentleness, her personal charm being felt
alike by her host, Maḥmūd the Kalantar, and by the most frigid of
Persian sovereigns. The former tried hard to save her. Doubtless by
using Ketman (i.e. by pretending to be a good Muslim) she might
have escaped. But her view of truth was too austere for this.
So the days--the well-filled days--wore on. Her success with
inquirers was marvellous; wedding-feasts were not half so bright as
her religious soirées. But she herself had a bridegroom, and longed
to see him. It was the attempt by a Bābī on the Shah's life on
August 15, 1852, which brought her nearer to the desire of her
heart. One of the servants of the house has described her last evening
on earth. I quote a paragraph from the account.
'While she was in prison, the marriage of the Kalantar's son took
place. As was natural, all the women-folk of the great personages were
invited. But although large sums had been expended on the
entertainments usual at such a time, all the ladies called loudly for
Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn. She came accordingly, and hardly had she begun to
speak when the musicians and dancing-girls were dismissed, and,
despite the counter attractions of sweet delicacies, the guests had no
eyes and ears save for Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn.
'At last, a night came when something strange and sad happened. I had
just waked up, and saw her go down into the courtyard. After washing
from head to foot she went back into her room, where she dressed
herself altogether in white. She perfumed herself, and as she did
this she sang, and never had I seen her so contented and joyous as in
this song. Then she turned to the women of the house, and begged them
to pardon the disagreeables which might have been occasioned by her
presence, and the faults which she might have committed towards them;
in a word, she acted exactly like some one who is about to undertake a
long journey. We were all surprised, asking ourselves what that could
mean. In the evening, she wrapped herself in a _chadour_, which she
fixed about her waist, making a band of her _chargud_, then she put on
again her _chagchour_. Her joy as she acted thus was so strange that
we burst into tears, for her goodness and inexhaustible friendliness
made us love her. But she smiled on us and said, "This evening I am
going to take a great, a very great journey." At this moment there
was a knock at the street door. "Run and open," she said, "for they
will be looking for me."
'It was the Kalantar who entered. He went in, as far as her room, and
said to her, "Come, Madam, for they are asking for you." "Yes," said
she, "I know it. I know, too, whither I am to be taken; I know how I
shall be treated. But, ponder it well, a day will come when thy
Master will give thee like treatment." Then she went out dressed as
she was with the Kalantar; we had no idea whither she was being taken,
and only on the following day did we learn that she was executed.'
One of the nephews of the Kalantar, who was in the police, has given
an account of the closing scene, from which I quote the following:
'Four hours after sunset the Kalantar asked me if all my measures were
taken, and upon the assurances which I gave him he conducted me into
his house. He went in alone into the _enderūn_, but soon
returned, accompanied by Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and gave me a folded paper,
saying to me, "You will conduct this woman to the garden of Ilkhaní,
and will give her into the charge of Aziz Khan the Serdar."
'A horse was brought, and I helped Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn to mount. I was
afraid, however, that the Bābīs would find out what was
passing. So I threw my cloak upon her, so that she was taken for a
man. With an armed escort we set out to traverse the streets. I feel
sure, however, that if a rescue had been attempted my people would
have run away. I heaved a sigh of relief on entering the garden. I put
my prisoner in a room under the entrance, ordered my soldiers to guard
the door well, and went up to the third story to find the Serdar.
'He expected me. I gave him the letter, and he asked me if no one had
understood whom I had in charge. "No one," I replied, "and now that I
have performed my duty, give me a receipt for my prisoner." "Not yet,"
he said; "you have to attend at the execution; afterwards I will give
you your receipt."
'He called a handsome young Turk whom he had in his service, and tried
to win him over by flatteries and a bribe. He further said, "I will
look out for some good berth for you. But you must do something for
me. Take this silk handkerchief, and go downstairs with this
officer. He will conduct you into a room where you will find a young
woman who does much harm to believers, turning their feet from the way
of Muḥammad. Strangle her with this handkerchief. By so doing you
will render an immense service to God, and I will give you a large
reward."
'The valet bowed and went out with me. I conducted him to the room
where I had left my prisoner. I found her prostrate and praying. The
young man approached her with the view of executing his orders. Then
she raised her head, looked fixedly at him and said, "Oh, young man,
it would ill beseem you to soil your hand with this murder."
'I cannot tell what passed in this young man's soul. But it is a fact
that he fled like a madman. I ran too, and we came together to the
serdar, to whom he declared that it was impossible for him to do what
was required. "I shall lose your patronage," he said. "I am, indeed,
no longer my own master; do what you will with me, but I will not
touch this woman."
'Aziz Khan packed him off, and reflected for some minutes. He then
sent for one of his horsemen whom, as a punishment for misconduct, he
had put to serve in the kitchens. When he came in, the serdar gave him
a friendly scolding: "Well, son of a dog, bandit that you are, has
your punishment been a lesson to you? and will you be worthy to regain
my affection? I think so. Here, take this large glass of brandy,
swallow it down, and make up for going so long without it." Then he
gave him a fresh handkerchief, and repeated the order which he had
already given to the young Turk.
'We entered the chamber together, and immediately the man rushed upon
Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and tied the handkerchief several times round her
neck. Unable to breathe, she fell to the ground in a faint; he then
knelt with one knee on her back, and drew the handkerchief with might
and main. As his feelings were stirred and he was afraid, he did not
leave her time to breathe her last. He took her up in his arms, and
carried her out to a dry well, into which he threw her still
alive. There was no time to lose, for daybreak was at hand. So we
called some men to help us fill up the well.'
Mons. Nicolas, formerly interpreter of the French Legation at Tihran,
to whom we are indebted for this narrative, adds that a pious hand
planted five or six solitary trees to mark the spot where the heroine
gave up this life for a better one. It is doubtful whether the
ruthless modern builder has spared them.
The internal evidence in favour of this story is very strong; there is
a striking verisimilitude about it. The execution of a woman to whom
so much romantic interest attached cannot have been in the royal
square; that would have been to court unpopularity for the
Government. Moreover, there is a want of definite evidence that women
were among the public victims of the 'reign of Terror' which followed
the attempt on the Shah's life (cp. _TN,_ p. 334). That Ḳurratu'l
'Ayn was put to death is certain, but this can hardly have been in
public. It is true, a European doctor, quoted by Prof. Browne (_TN,_
p. 313), declares that he witnessed the heroic death of the 'beautiful
woman.' He seems to imply that the death was accompanied by slow
tortures. But why does not this doctor give details? Is he not
drawing upon his fancy? Let us not make the persecutors worse than
they were.
Count Gobineau's informant appears to me too imaginative, but I will
give his statements in a somewhat shortened form.
'The beauty, eloquence, and enthusiasm of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn exercised a
fascination even upon her gaoler. One morning, returning from the
royal camp, he went into the _enderūn,_ and told his prisoner that
he brought her good news. "I know it," she answered gaily; "you need
not be at the pains to tell me." "You cannot possibly know my news,"
said the Ḳalantar; "it is a request from the Prime Minister. You
will be conducted to Niyavaran, and asked, 'Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, are you
a Bābī?' You will simply answer, 'No.' You will live alone for
some time, and avoid giving people anything to talk about. The Prime
Minister will keep his own opinion about you, but he will not exact
more of you than this."'
The words of the prophetess came true. She was taken to Niyavaran, and
publicly but gently asked, 'Are you a Bābī?' She answered what she
had said that she would answer in such a case. She was taken back to
Tihran. Her martyrdom took place in the citadel. She was placed upon a
heap of that coarse straw which is used to increase the bulk of
woollen and felt carpets. But before setting fire to this, the
executioners stifled her with rags, so that the flames only devoured
her dead body.
An account is also given in the London manuscript of the _New
History_, but as the Mirza suffered in the same persecution as the
heroine, we must suppose that it was inserted by the editor. It is
very short.
'For some while she was in the house of Maḥmūd Khan, the Kalantar,
where she exhorted and counselled the women of the household, till one
day she went to the bath, whence she returned in white garments,
saying, "To-morrow they will kill me." Next day the executioner came
and took her to the Nigaristan. As she would not suffer them to remove
the veil from her face (though they repeatedly sought to do so) they
applied the bow-string, and thus compassed her martyrdom. Then they
cast her holy body into a well in the garden. [Footnote: _NH_,
pp. 283 _f_.]
My own impression is that a legend early began to gather round the
sacred form of Her Highness the Pure. Retracing his recollections even
Dr. Polak mixes up truth and fiction, and has in his mind's eye
something like the scene conjured up by Count Gobineau in his
description of the persecution of Tihran:--
'On vit s'avancer, entre les bourreaux, des enfants et des femmes, les
chairs ouvertes sur tout le corps, avec des mèches allumées
flambantes fichées dans les blessures.'
Looking back on the short career of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, one is chiefly
struck by her fiery enthusiasm and by her absolute unworldliness. This
world was, in fact, to her, as it was said to be to Ḳuddus, a mere
handful of dust. She was also an eloquent speaker and experienced in
the intricate measures of Persian poetry. One of her few poems which
have thus far been made known is of special interest, because of the
belief which it expresses in the divine-human character of some one
(here called Lord), whose claims, when once adduced, would receive
general recognition. Who was this Personage? It appears that
Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn thought Him slow in bringing forward these claims. Is
there any one who can be thought of but Baha-'ullah?
The Bahaite tradition confidently answers in the negative.
Baha-'ullah, it declares, exercised great influence on the second
stage of the heroine's development, and Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn was one of
those who had pressed forward into the innermost sanctum of the
Bāb's disclosures. She was aware that 'The Splendour of God' was 'He
whom God would manifest.' The words of the poem, in Prof. Browne's
translation, refer, not to Ezel, but to his brother Baha-'ullah. They
are in _TN_, p. 315.
'Why lags the word, "_Am I not your Lord_"?
"_Yea, that thou art_," let us make reply.'
The poetess was a true Bahaite. More than this; the harvest sown in
Islamic lands by Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn is now beginning to appear. A letter
addressed to the _Christian Commonwealth_ last June informs us
that forty Turkish suffragettes are being deported from Constantinople
to Akka (so long the prison of Baha-'ullah):
'"During the last few years suffrage ideas have been spreading quietly
behind in the harems. The men were ignorant of it; everybody was
ignorant of it; and now suddenly the floodgate is opened and the men
of Constantinople have thought it necessary to resort to drastic
measures. Suffrage clubs have been organized, intelligent memorials
incorporating the women's demands have been drafted and circulated;
women's journals and magazines have sprung up, publishing excellent
articles; and public meetings were held. Then one day the members of
these clubs--four hundred of them--_cast away their veils._ The
staid, fossilized class of society were shocked, the good Mussulmans
were alarmed, and the Government forced into action. These four
hundred liberty-loving women were divided into several groups. One
group composed of forty have been exiled to Akka, and will arrive in a
few days. Everybody is talking about it, and it is really surprising
to see how numerous are those in favour of removing the veils from the
faces of the women. Many men with whom I have talked think the custom
not only archaic, but thought-stifling. The Turkish authorities,
thinking to extinguish this light of liberty, have greatly added to
its flame, and their high-handed action has materially assisted the
creation of a wider public opinion and a better understanding of this
crucial problem." The other question exercising opinion in Ḥaifa is
the formation of a military and strategic quarter out of Akka, which
in this is resuming its bygone importance. Six regiments of soldiers
are to be quartered there. Many officers have already arrived and are
hunting for houses, and as a result rents are trebled. It is
interesting to reflect, as our Baha correspondent suggests, on the
possible consequence of this projection of militarism into the very
centre fount of the Bahai faith in universal peace.'
BAHA-'ULLAH (MIRZA ḤUSEYN ALI OF NŪR)
According to Count Gobineau, the martyrdom of the Bāb at Tabriz was
followed by a Council of the Bābī chiefs at Teheran (Tihran). What
authority he has for this statement is unknown, but it is in itself
not improbable. Formerly the members of the Two Unities must have
desired to make their policy as far as possible uniform. We have
already heard of the Council of Badasht (from which, however, the
Bāb, or, the Point, was absent); we now have to make room in our
mind for the possibilities of a Council of Tihran. It was an
important occasion of which Gobineau reminds us, well worthy to be
marked by a Council, being nothing less than the decision of the
succession to the Pontificate.
At such a Council who would as a matter of course be present? One may
mention in the first instance Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali, titled as
Baha-'ullah, and his half-brother, Mirza Yaḥya, otherwise known as
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, also Jenāb-i-'Azim, Jenāb-i-Bazir, Mirza
Asadu'llah [Footnote: Gobineau, however, thinks that Mirza Asadu'llah
was not present at the (assumed) Council.] (Dayyan), Sayyid Yaḥya
(of Darab), and others similarly honoured by the original Bāb. And
who were the candidates for this terribly responsible post? Several
may have wished to be brought forward, but one candidate, according to
the scholar mentioned, overshadowed the rest. This was Mirza Yaḥya
(of Nūr), better known as Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.
The claims of this young man were based on a nomination-document now
in the possession of Prof. Browne, and have been supported by a letter
given in a French version by Mons. Nicolas. Forgery, however, has
played such a great part in written documents of the East that I
hesitate to recognize the genuineness of this nomination. And I think
it very improbable that any company of intensely earnest men should
have accepted the document in preference to the evidence of their own
knowledge respecting the inadequate endowments of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.
No doubt the responsibilities of the pontificate would be shared.
There would be a 'Gate' and there would be a 'Point.' The deficiencies
of the 'Gate' might be made good by the 'Point.' Moreover, the
'Letters of the Living' were important personages; their advice could
hardly be rejected. Still the gravity and variety of the duties
devolving upon the 'Gate' and the 'Point' give us an uneasy sense that
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel was not adequate to either of these posts, and cannot
have been appointed to either of them by the Council. The probability
is that the arrangement already made was further sanctioned, viz. that
Baha-'ullah was for the present to take the private direction of
affairs and exercise his great gifts as a teacher, while
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (a vain young man) gave his name as ostensible head,
especially with a view to outsiders and to agents of the government.
It may be this to which allusion is made in a tradition preserved by
Behîah Khanum, sister of Abbas Effendi Abdul Baha, that
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel claimed to be equal to his half-brother, and that he
rested this claim on a vision. The implication is that Baha-'ullah was
virtually the head of the Bābī community, and that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel
was wrapt up in dreams, and was really only a figurehead. In fact,
from whatever point of view we compare the brothers (half-brothers),
we are struck by the all-round competence of the elder and the
incompetence of the younger. As leader, as teacher, and as writer he
was alike unsurpassed. It may be mentioned in passing that, not only
the _Hidden Words_ and the _Seven Valleys_, but the fine
though unconvincing apologetic arguments of the _Book of Ighan_
flowed from Baha-'ullah's pen at the Baghdad period. But we must now
make good a great omission. Let us turn back to our hero's origin and
childhood.
Ḥuseyn 'Ali was half-brother of Yaḥya, i.e. they had the
same father but different mothers. The former was the elder, being
born in A.D. 1817, whereas the latter only entered on his melancholy
life in A.D. 1830. [Footnote: It is a singular fact that an Ezelite
source claims the name Baha-'ullah for Mirza Yaḥya. But one can
hardly venture to credit this. See _TN_, p. 373 n. 1.] Both
embraced the Bābī faith, and were called respectively Baha-'ullah
(Splendour of God) and Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (Dawn of Eternity). Their
father was known as Buzurg (or, Abbas), of the district of Nūr in
Mazandaran. The family was distinguished; Mirza Buzurg held a high
post under government.
Like many men of his class, Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali had a turn for
mysticism, but combined this--like so many other mystics--with much
practical ability. He became a Bābī early in life, and did much to
lay the foundations of the faith both in his native place and in the
capital. His speech was like a 'rushing torrent,' and his clearness in
exposition brought the most learned divines to his feet. Like his
half-brother, he attended the important Council of Badasht, where,
with God's Heroine--Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn--he defended the cause of
progress and averted a fiasco. The Bāb--'an ambassador in bonds'--he
never met, but he corresponded with him, using (as it appears) the
name of his half-brother as a protecting pseudonym. [Footnote:
_TN_, p. 373 n. 1.]
The Bāb was 'taken up into heaven' in 1850 upon which (according to
a Tradition which I am compelled to reject) Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel succeeded
to the Supreme Headship. The appointment would have been very
unsuitable, but the truth is (_pace_ Gobineau) that it was never
made, or rather, God did not will to put such a strain upon our faith.
It was, in fact, too trying a time for any new teacher, and we can now
see the wisdom of Baha-'ullah in waiting for the call of events. The
Bābī community was too much divided to yield a new Head a frank
and loyal obedience. Many Bābīs rose against the government, and
one even made an attempt on the Shah's life. Baha-'ullah (to use the
name given to Ḥuseyn 'Ali of Nūr by the Bāb) was arrested near
Tihran on a charge of complicity. He was imprisoned for four months,
but finally acquitted and released. No wonder that Baha-'ullah and
his family were anxious to put as large a space as possible between
themselves and Tihran.
Together with several Bābī families, and, of course, his own
nearest and dearest, Baha-'ullah set out for Baghdad. It was a
terrible journey in rough mountain country and the travellers suffered
greatly from exposure. On their arrival fresh misery stared the ladies
in the face, unaccustomed as they were to such rough life. They were
aided, however, by the devotion of some of their fellow-believers, who
rendered many voluntary services; indeed, their affectionate zeal
needed to be restrained, as St. Paul doubtless found in like
circumstances. Baha-'ullah himself was intensely, divinely happy, and
the little band of refugees--thirsty for truth--rejoiced in their
untrammelled intercourse with their Teacher. Unfortunately religious
dissensions began to arise. In the Bābī colony at Baghdad there
were some who were not thoroughly devoted to Baha-'ullah. The Teacher
was rather too radical, too progressive for them. They had not been
introduced to the simpler and more spiritual form of religion taught
by Baha-'ullah, and probably they had had positive teaching of quite
another order from some one authorized by Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.
The strife went on increasing in bitterness, until at length it became
clear that either Baha-'ullah or Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel must for a time
vanish from the scene. For Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (or, for shortness, Ezel)
to disappear would be suicidal; he knew how weak his personal claims
to the pontificate really were. But Baha-'ullah's disappearance would
be in the general interest; it would enable the Bābīs to realize
how totally dependent they were, in practical matters, on
Baha-'ullah. 'Accordingly, taking a change of clothes, but no money,
and against the entreaties of all the family, he set out. Many months
passed; he did not return, nor had we any word from him or about him.
'There was an old physician at Baghdad who had been called upon to
attend the family, and who had become our friend. He sympathized much
with us, and undertook on his own account to make inquiries for my
father. These inquiries were long without definite result, but at
length a certain traveller to whom he had described my father said
that he had heard of a man answering to that description, evidently of
high rank, but calling himself a dervish, living in caves in the
mountains. He was, he said, reputed to be so wise and wonderful in his
speech on religious things that when people heard him they would
follow him; whereupon, wishing to be alone, he would change his
residence to a cave in some other locality. When we heard these
things, we were convinced that this dervish was in truth our beloved
one. But having no means to send him any word, or to hear further of
him, we were very sad.
'There was also then in Baghdad an earnest Bābī, formerly a pupil
of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn. This man said to us that as he had no ties and
did not care for his life, he desired no greater happiness than to be
allowed to seek for him all loved so much, and that he would not
return without him. He was, however, very poor, not being able even to
provide an ass for the journey; and he was besides not very strong,
and therefore not able to go on foot. We had no money for the purpose,
nor anything of value by the sale of which money could be procured,
with the exception of a single rug, upon which we all slept. This we
sold and with the proceeds bought an ass for this friend, who
thereupon set out upon the search.
'Time passed; we heard nothing, and fell into the deepest dejection
and despair. Finally, four months having elapsed since our friend had
departed, a message was one day received from him saying that he would
bring my father home on the next day. The absence of my father had
covered a little more than two years. After his return the fame which
he had acquired in the mountains reached Baghdad. His followers became
numerous; many of them even the fierce and untutored Arabs of Irak. He
was visited also by many Bābīs from Persia.'
This is the account of the sister of our beloved and venerated Abdul
Baha. There are, however, two other accounts which ought to be
mentioned. According to the _Traveller's Narrative_, the refuge
of Baha-'ullah was generally in a place called Sarkalu in the
mountains of Turkish Kurdistan; more seldom he used to stay in
Suleymaniyya, the headquarters of the Sunnites. Before long, however,
'the most eminent doctors of those regions got some inkling of his
circumstances and conditions, and conversed with him on the solution
of certain difficult questions connected with the most abstruse points
of theology. In consequence of this, fragmentary accounts of this were
circulated in all quarters. Several persons therefore hastened
thither, and began to entreat and implore.' [Footnote: _TN_,
pp. 64, 65.]
If this is correct, Baha-'ullah was more widely known in Turkish
Kurdistan than his family was aware, and debated high questions of
theology as frequently as if he were in Baghdad or at the Supreme
Shrine. Nor was it only the old physician and the poor Bābī
disciple who were on the track of Baha-'ullah, but 'several
persons'--no doubt persons of weight, who were anxious for a
settlement of the points at issue in the Bābī community. A further
contribution is made by the Ezeli historian, who states that
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel himself wrote a letter to his brother, inviting him to
return. [Footnote: _TN_, p. 359.] One wishes that letter could
be recovered. It would presumably throw much light on the relations
between the brothers at this critical period.
About 1862 representations were made to the Shah that the Bābī
preaching at Baghdad was injurious to the true Faith in Persia. The
Turkish Government, therefore, when approached on the subject by the
Shah, consented to transfer the Bābīs from Baghdad to
Constantinople. An interval of two weeks was accorded, and before this
grace-time was over a great event happened--his declaration of himself
to be the expected Messiah (Him whom God should manifest). As yet it
was only in the presence of his son (now best known as Abdul Baha) and
four other specially chosen disciples that this momentous declaration
was made. There were reasons why Baha-'ullah should no longer keep his
knowledge of the will of God entirely secret, and also reasons why he
should not make the declaration absolutely public.
The caravan took four months to reach Constantinople. At this capital
of the Muḥammadan world their stay was brief, as they were 'packed
off' the same year to Adrianople. Again they suffered greatly. But who
would find fault with the Great Compassion for arranging it so? And
who would deny that there are more important events at this period
which claim our interest? These are (1) the repeated attempts on the
life of Baha-'ullah (or, as the Ezelis say, of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel) by the
machinations of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (or, as the Ezelis say, of
Baha-'ullah), and (2) the public declaration on the part of
Baha-'ullah that he, and no one else, was the Promised Manifestation
of Deity.
There is some obscurity in the chronological relation of these events,
i.e. as to whether the public declaration of Baha-'ullah was in
definite opposition, not only to the claims of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, but to
those of Zabiḥ, related by Mirza Jani, [Footnote: See _NH_,
pp. 385, 394; _TN_, p. 357. The Ezelite historian includes Dayyan
(see above).] and of others, or whether the reverse is the case. At
any rate Baha-'ullah believed that his brother was an assassin and a
liar. This is what he says,--'Neither was the belly of the glutton
sated till that he desired to eat my flesh and drink my blood.... And
herein he took counsel with one of my attendants, tempting him unto
this.... But he, when he became aware that the matter had become
publicly known, took the pen of falsehood, and wrote unto the people,
and attributed all that he had done to my peerless and wronged
Beauty.' [Footnote: _TN_, pp. 368, 369.]
These words are either a meaningless extravagance, or they are a
deliberate assertion that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel had sought to destroy his
brother, and had then circulated a written declaration that it was
Baha-'ullah who had sought to destroy Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel. It is, I fear,
certain that Baha-'ullah is correct, and that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel did
attempt to poison his brother, who was desperately ill for twenty-two
days.
Another attempt on the life of the much-loved Master was prevented, it
is said, by the faithfulness of the bath-servant. 'One day while in
the bath Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel remarked to the servant (who was a believer)
that the Blessed Perfection had enemies and that in the bath he was
much exposed.... Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel then asked him whether, if God should
lay upon him the command to do this, he would obey it. The servant
understood this question, coming from Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, to be a
suggestion of such a command, and was so petrified by it that he
rushed screaming from the room. He first met Abbas Effendi and
reported to him Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's words.... Abbas Effendi,
accordingly, accompanied him to my father, who listened to his story
and then enjoined absolute silence upon him.' [Footnote: Phelps,
pp. 38, 39.]
Such is the story as given by one who from her youthful age is likely
to have remembered with precision. She adds that the occurrence 'was
ignored by my father and brother,' and that 'our relations with
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel continued to be cordial.' How extremely fine this is!
It may remind us of 'Father, forgive them,' and seems to justify the
title given to Baha-'ullah by his followers, 'Blessed Perfection.'
The Ezelite historian, however, gives a different version of the
story. [Footnote: _TN_, pp. 359, 360.] According to him, it was
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel whose life was threatened. 'It was arranged that
Muḥammad Ali the barber should cut his throat while shaving him in
the bath. On the approach of the barber, however, Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel
divined his design, refused to allow him to come near, and, on leaving
the bath, instantly took another lodging in Adrianople, and separated
himself from Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali and his followers.'
Evidently there was great animosity between the parties, but, in spite
of the _Eight Paradises_, it appears to me that the Ezelites were
chiefly in fault. Who can believe that Baha-'ullah spread abroad his
brother's offences? [Footnote: _Ibid_.] On the other hand,
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and his advisers were capable of almost anything from
poisoning and assassination to the forging of spurious letters. I do
not mean to say that they were by any means the first persons in
Persian history to venture on these abnormal actions.
It is again Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel who is responsible for the disturbance of
the community.
It was represented--no doubt by this bitter foe--to the Turkish
Government that Baha-'ullah and his followers were plotting against
the existing order of things, and that when their efforts had been
crowned with success, Baha-'ullah would be designated king.
[Footnote: For another form of the story, see Phelps, _Abbas
Effendi_, p. 46.] This may really have been a dream of the
Ezelites (we must substitute Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel for Baha-'ullah); the
Bahaites were of course horrified at the idea. But how should the
Sultan discriminate? So the punishment fell on the innocent as well as
the guilty, on the Bahaites as well as the Ezelites.
The punishment was the removal of Baha-'ullah and his party and
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and his handful of followers, the former to Akka
(Acre) on the coast of Syria, the latter to Famagusta in Cyprus. The
Bahaites were put on board ship at Gallipoli. A full account is given
by Abbas Effendi's sister of the preceding events. It gives one a most
touching idea of the deep devotion attracted by the magnetic
personalities of the Leader and his son.
I have used the expression 'Leader,' but in the course of his stay at
Adrianople Baha-'ullah had risen to a much higher rank than that of
'Leader.' We have seen that at an earlier period of his exile
Baha-'ullah had made known to five of his disciples that he was in
very deed the personage whom the Bāb had enigmatically promised. At
that time, however, Baha-'ullah had pledged those five disciples to
secrecy. But now the reasons for concealment did not exist, and
Baha-'ullah saw (in 1863) that the time had come for a public
declaration. This is what is stated by Abbas Effendi's sister:--
[Footnote: Phelps, pp. 44-46.]
'He then wrote a tablet, longer than any he had before written,
[which] he directed to be read to every Bābī, but first of all to
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel. He assigned to one of his followers the duty of
taking it to Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, reading it to him, and returning with
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's reply. When Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel had heard the tablet he
did not attempt to refute it; on the contrary he accepted it, and said
that it was true. But he went on to maintain that he himself was
co-equal with the Blessed Perfection, [Footnote: See p. 128.]
affirming that he had a vision on the previous night in which he had
received this assurance.
'When this statement of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel was reported to the Blessed
Perfection, the latter directed that every Bābī should be informed
of it at the time when he heard his own tablet read. This was done,
and much uncertainty resulted among the believers. They generally
applied to the Blessed Perfection for advice, which, however, he
declined to give. At length he told them that he would seclude himself
from them for four months, and that during this time they must decide
the question for themselves. At the end of that period, all the
Bābīs in Adrianople, with the exception of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and
five or six others, came to the Blessed Perfection and declared that
they accepted him as the Divine Manifestation whose coming the Bāb
had foretold. The Bābīs of Persia, Syria, Egypt, and other
countries also in due time accepted the Blessed Perfection with
substantial unanimity.
Baha-'ullah, then, landed in Syria not merely as the leader of the
greater part of the Bābīs at Baghdad, but as the representative of
a wellnigh perfect humanity. He did not indeed assume the title 'The
Point,' but 'The Point' and 'Perfection' are equivalent terms. He was,
indeed, 'Fairer than the sons of men,' [Footnote: Ps. xlv. 2.] and no
sorrow was spared to him that belonged to what the Jews and Jewish
Christians called 'the pangs of the Messiah.' It is true, crucifixion
does not appear among Baha-'ullah's pains, but he was at any rate
within an ace of martyrdom. This is what Baha-'ullah wrote at the end
of his stay at Adrianople:--[Footnote: Browne, _A Year among the
Persians_, p. 518.]
'By God, my head longeth for the spears for the love of its Lord, and
I never pass by a tree but my heart addresseth it [saying], 'Oh would
that thou wert cut down in my name, and my body were _crucified_
upon thee in the way of my Lord!'
The sorrows of his later years were largely connected with the
confinement of the Bahaites at Acre (Akka). From the same source I
quote the following.
'We are about to shift from this most remote place of banishment
(Adrianople) unto the prison of Acre. And, according to what they say,
it is assuredly the most desolate of the cities of the world, the most
unsightly of them in appearance, the most detestable in climate, and
the foulest in water.'
It is true, the sanitary condition of the city improved, so that
Bahaites from all parts visited Akka as a holy city. Similar
associations belong to Ḥaifa, so long the residence of the saintly
son of a saintly father.
If there has been any prophet in recent times, it is to Baha-'ullah
that we must go. Pretenders like Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and Muḥammad are
quickly unmasked. Character is the final judge. Baha-'ullah was a man
of the highest class--that of prophets. But he was free from the last
infirmity of noble minds, and would certainly not have separated
himself from others. He would have understood the saying, 'Would God
all the Lord's people were prophets.' What he does say, however, is
just as fine, 'I do not desire lordship over others; I desire all men
to be even as I am.'
He spent his later years in delivering his message, and setting forth
the ideals and laws of the New Jerusalem. In 1892 he passed within the
veil.