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CHAPTER XXVI: ATTEMPT ON THE SHÁH’S LIFE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
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THE eighth Naw-Rúz after the Declaration of the
Báb, which fell on the twenty-seventh day of the
month of Jamádiyu’l-Avval, in the year 1268 A.H.,
found Bahá’u’lláh still in ‘Iráq, engaged in spreading
the teachings, and making firm the foundations, of the
New Revelation. Displaying an enthusiasm and ability that
recalled His activities in the early days of the Movement in
Núr and Mázindarán, He continued to devote Himself to the
task of reviving the energies, of organising the forces, and of
directing the efforts, of the Báb’s scattered companions. He
was the sole light amidst the darkness that encompassed the
bewildered disciples who had witnessed, on the one hand, the
cruel martyrdom of their beloved Leader and, on the other,
the tragic fate of their companions. He alone was able to
inspire them with the needful courage and fortitude to endure
the many afflictions that had been heaped upon them; He
alone was capable of preparing them for the burden of the
task they were destined to bear, and of inuring them to
brave the storm and perils they were soon to face.
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In the course of the spring of that year, Mírzá Taqí
Khán, the Amír-Nizám, the Grand Vazír of Násiri’d-Dín
Sháh, who had been guilty of such infamous outrages against
the Báb and His companions, met his death in a public bath
in Fín, near Ká shán,
having miserably failed to stay the
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onrush of the Faith he had striven so desperately to crush.
His own fame and honour were destined eventually to perish
with his death, and not the influence of the life he had sought
to extinguish. During the three years when he held the post
of Grand Vazír of Persia, his ministry was stained with deeds
of blackest infamy. What atrocities did not his hands commit
as they were stretched forth to tear down the fabric the Báb
had raised! To what treacherous measures did he not resort,
in his impotent rage, in order to sap the vitality of a Cause
which he feared and hated! The first year of his administration
was marked by the ferocious onslaught of the imperial
army of Násiri’d-Dín Sháh against the defenders of the fort
of Tabarsí. With what ruthlessness he conducted the campaign
of repression against those innocent upholders of the
Faith of God! What fury and eloquence he displayed in
pleading for the extermination of the lives of Quddús, of
Mullá Husayn, and of three hundred and thirteen of the best
and noblest of his countrymen! The second year of his ministry
found him battling with savage determination to extirpate
the Faith in the capital. It was he who authorised
and encouraged the capture of the believers who resided in
that city, and who ordered the execution of the Seven Martyrs
of Tihrán. It was he who unchained the offensive against
Vahíd and his companions, who inspired that campaign of
revenge which animated their persecutors, and who instigated
them to commit the abominations with which that episode
will for ever remain associated. That same year witnessed
another blow more terrible than any he had hitherto dealt
that persecuted community, a blow that brought to a tragic
end the life of Him who was the Source of all the forces he
had in vain sought to repress. The last years of that Vazír’s
life will for ever remain associated with the most revolting
of the vast campaigns which his ingenious mind had devised,
597
[Illustrations: VILLAGE OF ÁFCHIH, NEAR TIHRÁN. THE HOUSE OF BAHÁ’U’LLÁH
IS SEEN THROUGH THE TREES (LEFT REAR); BAHÁ’U’LLÁH’S HOUSE IN ÁFCHIH, NEAR
TIHRÁN]
598
a campaign that involved the destruction of the lives of
Hujjat and of no less than eighteen hundred of his companions.
Such were the distinguishing features of a career
that began and ended in a reign of terror such as Persia had
seldom seen.
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He was succeeded by Mírzá Áqá Khán-i-Núrí,
who endeavoured,
at the very outset of his ministry, to effect a
reconciliation between the government of which he was the
head and Bahá’u’lláh, whom he regarded as the most capable
of the Báb’s disciples. He sent Him a warm letter requesting
Him to return to Tihrán, and expressing his eagerness to meet
Him. Ere the receipt of that letter, Bahá’u’lláh had already
decided to leave ‘Iráq for Persia.
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He arrived in the capital in the month of Rajab,
and
was welcomed by the Grand Vazír’s brother, Ja’far-Qulí
Khán, who had been specially directed to go forth to receive
Him. For one whole month, He was the honoured Guest of
599
the Grand Vazír, who had appointed his brother to act as
host on his behalf. So great was the number of the notables
and dignitaries of the capital who flocked to meet Him that
He found Himself unable to return to His own home. He
remained in that house until His departure for Shimírán.
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I have heard it stated by Áqáy-i-Kalím that in the course
of that journey Bahá’u’lláh was able to meet Azím, who had
been endeavouring for a long time to see Him, and who in
that interview was advised, in the most emphatic terms, to
abandon the plan he had conceived. Bahá’u’lláh condemned
his designs, dissociated Himself entirely from the act it was
his intention to commit, and warned him that such an attempt
would precipitate fresh disasters of unprecedented
magnitude.
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Bahá’u’lláh proceeded to Lavásán, and was staying in
the village of Af chih, the property of the Grand Vazír, when
the news of the attempt on the life of Násiri’d-Dín Sháh
reached Him. Ja’far-Qulí Khán was still acting as His host
on behalf of the Amír-Nizám. That criminal act was committed
towards the end of the month of Shavval, in the year
1268 A.H.,
by two obscure and irresponsible young men, one
named Sádiq-i-Tabrízí, the other Fathu’lláh-i-Qumí, both
of whom earned their livelihood in Tihrán. At a time when
the imperial army, headed by the Sháh himself, had encamped
in Shimírán, these two ignorant youths, in a frenzy of despair,
arose to avenge the blood of their slaughtered brethren.
600
The folly that characterised their act was betrayed by the
fact that in making such an attempt on the life of their
sovereign, instead of employing effective weapons which
would ensure the success of their venture, these youths
charged their pistols with shot which no reasonable person
would ever think of using for such a purpose. Had their
action been instigated by a man of judgment and common
sense, he would certainly never have allowed them to carry
out their intention with such ridiculously ineffective instruments.
601
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That act, though committed by wild and feeble-minded
fanatics, and in spite of its being from the very first emphatically
condemned by no less responsible a person than
Bahá’u’lláh, was the signal for the outbreak of a series of
persecutions and massacres of such barbarous ferocity as
could be compared only to the atrocities of Mázindarán and
Zanján. The storm to which that act gave rise plunged the
whole of Tihrán into consternation and distress. It involved
the life of the leading companions who had survived the
calamities to which their Faith had been so cruelly and repeatedly
subjected. That storm was still raging when Bahá’u’lláh,
with some of His ablest lieutenants, was plunged into
a filthy, dark, and fever-stricken dungeon, whilst chains of
such weight as only notorious criminals were condemned to
carry, were placed upon His neck. For no less than four
months He bore the burden, and such was the intensity of
His suffering that the marks of that cruelty remained imprinted
upon His body all the days of His life.
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So grave a menace to their sovereign and to the institutions
of his realm stirred the indignation of the entire body
of the ecclesiastical order of Persia. To them so bold a deed
called for immediate and condign punishment. Measures of
unprecedented severity, they clamoured, should be undertaken
to stem the tide that was engulfing both the government
and the Faith of Islám. Despite the restraint which
the followers of the Báb had exercised ever since the inception
of the Faith in every part of the land; despite the repeated
charges of the chief disciples to their brethren enjoining them
602
to refrain from acts of violence, to obey their government
loyally, and to disclaim any intention of a holy war, their
enemies persevered in their deliberate efforts to misrepresent
the nature and purpose of that Faith to the authorities. Now
that an act of such momentous consequences had been committed,
what accusations would not these same enemies be
prompted to attribute to the Cause with which those guilty
of the crime had been associated! The moment seemed to
have come when they could at last awaken the rulers of the
country to the necessity of extirpating as speedily as possible
a heresy which seemed to threaten the very foundations of
the State.
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Ja’far-Qulí Khán, who was in Shimírán when the attempt
on the Sháh’s life was made, immediately wrote a letter to
Bahá’u’lláh and acquainted Him with what had happened.
“The Sháh’s mother,” he wrote, “is inflamed with anger.
She is denouncing you openly before the court and people as
the ‘would-be murderer’ of her son. She is also trying to
involve Mírzá Áqá Khán in this affair, and accuses him
of being your accomplice.” He urged Bahá’u’lláh to remain
for a time concealed in that neighbourhood, until the passion
of the populace had subsided. He despatched to Af chih an
old and experienced messenger whom he ordered to be at the
603
disposal of his Guest and to hold himself in readiness to accompany
Him to whatever place of safety He might desire.
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Bahá’u’lláh refused to avail Himself of the opportunity
Ja’far-Qulí Khán offered Him. Ignoring the messenger and
rejecting his offer, He rode out, the next morning, with calm
confidence, from Lavásán, where He was sojourning, to the
headquarters of the imperial army, which was then stationed
in Níyávarán, in the Shimírán district. Arriving at
the village of Zarkandih, the seat of the Russian legation,
which lay at a distance of one maydán
from Níyávarán,
He was met by Mírzá Majíd, His brother-in-law, who acted
as secretary to the Russian minister,
and was invited by him
to stay at his home, which adjoined that of his superior. The
attendants of Hájí ‘Alí Khán, the Hajíbu’d-Dawlih, recognised
Him and went straightway to inform their master,
who in turn brought the matter to the attention of the
Sháh.
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The news of the arrival of Bahá’u’lláh greatly surprised
the officers of the imperial army. Násiri’d-Dín Sháh himself
was amazed at the bold and unexpected step which a man
who was accused of being the chief instigator of the attempt
upon his life had taken. He immediately sent one of his
trusted officers to the legation, demanding that the Accused
be delivered into his hands. The Russian minister refused,
and requested Bahá’u’lláh to proceed to the home of Mírzá
Áqá Khán, the Grand Vazír, a place he thought to be the most
appropriate under the circumstances. His request was
granted, whereupon the minister formally communicated to
the Grand Vazír his desire that the utmost care should be
exercised to ensure the safety and protection of the Trust
his government was delivering into his keeping, warning him
that he would hold him responsible should he fail to disregard
his wishes.
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Mírzá Áqá Khán, though he undertook to give the fullest
assurances that were required, and received Bahá’u’lláh with
every mark of respect into his home, was, however, too apprehensive
604
for the safety of his own position to accord his Guest
the treatment he was expected to extend.
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As Bahá’u’lláh was leaving the village of Zarkandih, the
minister’s daughter, who felt greatly distressed at the dangers
which beset His life, was so overcome with emotion that she
was unable to restrain her tears. “Of what use,” she was
heard expostulating with her father, “is the authority with
which you have been invested, if you are powerless to extend
your protection to a guest whom you have received in your
house?” The minister, who had a great affection for his daughter,
was moved by the sight of her tears, and sought to comfort
her by his assurances that he would do all in his power to
avert the danger that threatened the life of Bahá’u’lláh.
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That day the army of Násiri’d-Dín Sháh was thrown into
a state of violent tumult. The peremptory orders of the
sovereign, following so closely upon the attempt on his life,
gave rise to the wildest rumours and excited the fiercest
passions in the hearts of the people of the, neighbourhood.
The agitation spread to Tihrán and fanned into flaming fury
the smouldering embers of hatred which the enemies of the
Cause still nourished ill their hearts. Confusion, unprecedented
in its range, reigned in the capital. A word of denunciation,
a sign, or a whisper was sufficient to subject the
605
innocent to a persecution which no pen dare try to describe.
Security of life and property had completely vanished. The
highest ecclesiastical authorities in the capital joined hands
with the most influential members of the government to deal
what they hoped would be the fatal blow to a foe who, for
eight years, had so gravely shaken the peace of the land,
and whom no cunning or violence had yet been able to silence.
606
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Bahá’u’lláh, now that the Báb was no more, appeared
in their eyes to be the arch-foe whom they deemed it their
first duty to seize and imprison. To them He was the reincarnation
of the Spirit the Báb had so powerfully manifested,
the Spirit through which He had been able to accomplish
so complete a transformation in the lives and
habits of His countrymen. The precautions the Russian
minister had taken, and the warning he had uttered, failed
to stay the hand that had been outstretched with such determination
against that precious Life.
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From Shimírán to Tihrán, Bahá’u’lláh was several times
607
stripped of His garments, and was overwhelmed with abuse
and ridicule. On foot and exposed to the fierce rays of the
midsummer sun, He was compelled to cover, barefooted and
bareheaded, the whole distance from Shimírán to the dungeon
already referred to. All along the route, He was pelted and
vilified by the crowds whom His enemies had succeeded in
convincing that He was the sworn enemy of their sovereign
and the wrecker of his realm. Words fail me to portray the
horror of the treatment which was meted out to Him as He
was being taken to the Síyáh- Chál
of Tihrán. As He was
approaching the dungeon, and old and decrepit woman was
seen to emerge from the midst of the crowd, with a stone in
her hand, eager to cast it at the face of Bahá’u’lláh. Her
eyes glowed with a determination and fanaticism of which
few women of her age were capable. Her whole frame shook
with rage as she stepped forward and raised her hand to hurl
her missile at Him. “By the Siyyidu’ sh- Shuhada,
I adjure
you,” she pleaded, as she ran to overtake those into whose
hands Bahá’u’lláh had been delivered, “give me a chance to
fling my stone in his face!” “Suffer not this woman to be
608
disappointed,” were Bahá’u’lláh’s words to His guards, as
He saw her hastening behind Him. “Deny her not what she
regards as a meritorious act in the sight of God.”
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The Síyáh- Chál, into which Bahá’u’lláh was thrown,
originally a reservoir of water for one of the public baths of
Tihrán, was a subterranean dungeon in which criminals of
the worst type were wont to be confined. The darkness, the
filth, and the character of the prisoners, combined to make
of that pestilential dungeon the most abominable place to
which human beings could be condemned. His feet were
placed in stocks, and around His neck were fastened the
Qará-Guhar chains, infamous throughout Persia for their
galling weight.
For three days and three nights, no manner
of food or drink was given to Bahá’u’lláh. Rest and sleep
were both impossible to Him. The place was infested with
vermin, and the stench of that gloomy abode was enough
to crush the very spirits of those who were condemned to
suffer its horrors. Such were the conditions under which He
was held down that even one of the executioners who were
watching over Him was moved with pity. Several times this
man attempted to induce Him to take some tea which he
had managed to introduce into the dungeon under the cover
of his garments. Bahá’u’lláh, however, would refuse to
drink it. His family often endeavoured to persuade the
609
guards to allow them to carry the food they had prepared
for Him into His prison. Though at first no amount of
pleading would induce the guards to relax the severity of
their discipline, yet gradually they yielded to His friends’
importunity. No one could be sure, however, whether that
food would eventually reach Him, or whether He would
consent to eat it whilst a number of His fellow-prisoners were
starving before His eyes. Surely greater misery than had
befallen these innocent victims of the wrath of their sovereign,
could hardly be imagined.
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As to the youth Sádiq-i-Tabrízí, the fate he suffered was
as cruel as it was humiliating. He was seized at the moment
he was rushing towards the Sháh, whom he had thrown from
his horse, hoping to strike him with the sword he held in his
hand. The Shatír-Bá shí, together with the Mustawfíyu’l-Mámalík’s
attendants, fell upon him and, without attempting
to learn who he was, slew him on the spot. Wishing
to allay the excitement of the populace, they hewed his body
into two halves, each of which they suspended to the public
610
gaze at the entrance of the gates of Shimírán and Sháh-‘Abdu’l-‘Azim.
His two other companions, Fathu’llah-i-Hakkak-i-Qumí and
Hájí Qásim-i-Nayrízí, who had succeeded in
inflicting only slight wounds on the Sháh, were subjected to
inhuman treatment, to which they ultimately owed their
death. Fathu’llah, though suffering unspeakable cruelties,
obstinately refused to answer the questions they asked him.
The silence he maintained in the face of manifold tortures,
induced his persecutors to believe that he was devoid of the
power of speech. Exasperated by the failure of their efforts,
they poured molten lead down his throat, an act which
brought his sufferings to an end.
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His comrade, Hájí Qásim, was treated with a savagery
still more revolting. On the very day Hájí Sulaymán Khán
was being subjected to that terrible ordeal, this poor wretch
was receiving similar treatment at the hands of his persecutors
in Shimírán. He was stripped of his clothes, lighted
611
candles were thrust into holes driven into his flesh, and he
was thus paraded before the eyes of a multitude who yelled
and cursed him. The spirit of revenge that animated
those into whose hands he was delivered seemed insatiable.
Day after day fresh victims were forced to expiate with their
blood a crime which they had never committed, and of the
circumstances of which they were wholly ignorant. Every
ingenious device that the torture-mongers of Tihrán could
employ was applied with merciless severity to the bodies of
these unfortunate ones who were neither brought to trial
nor questioned, and whose right to plead and prove their
innocence was entirely ignored.
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Each of those days of terror witnessed the martyrdom of
two companions of the Báb, one of whom was slain in Tihrán,
whilst the other met his fate in Shimírán. Both were subjected
to the same manner of torture, both were handed over to the
public to wreak their vengeance upon them. Those arrested
were distributed among the various classes of people, whose
messengers would visit the dungeon each day and claim their
612
victim.
Conducting him to the scene of his death, they would
give the signal for a general attack upon him, whereupon
men and women would close upon their prey, tear his body to
pieces, and so mutilate it that no trace of its original form
would remain. Such ruthlessness amazed even the most
brutal of the executioners, whose hands, however much accustomed
to human slaughter, had never perpetrated the
atrocities of which those people had proved themselves
capable.
613
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Of all the tortures which an insatiable enemy inflicted
upon its victims, none was more revolting in its character
than that which characterised the death of Hájí Sulaymán
Khán. He was the son of Yahyá Khán, one of the officers
in the service of the Nayibu’s-Saltanih, who was the father
of Muhammad Sháh. He retained that same position in the
early days of the reign of Muhammad Sháh. Hájí Sulaymán
Khán showed from his earliest years a marked disinclination
to rank and office. Ever since the day of his acceptance of
614
the Cause of the Báb, the petty pursuits in which the people
around him were immersed excited his pity and contempt.
The vanity of their ambitions had been abundantly demonstrated
in his eyes. In his early youth, he felt a longing to
escape from the turmoil of the capital and to seek refuge in
the holy city of Karbilá. There he met Siyyid Kázim and
grew to be one of his most ardent supporters. His sincere
piety, his frugality and love of seclusion were among the
chief traits of his character. He tarried in Karbilá until the
day when the Call from Shíráz reached him through Mullá
Yúsúf-i-Ardibílí and Mullá Mihdíy-Kú’í, both of whom
were among his best-known friends. He enthusiastically
embraced the Message of the Báb.
He had intended, upon
his return from Karbilá to Tihrán, to join the defenders of
the fort of Tabarsí, but arrived too late to achieve his purpose.
He remained in the capital and continued to wear the
kind of dress he had adopted in Karbilá. The small turban
he wore, and the white tunic which his black ‘abá
concealed,
were displeasing to the Amír-Nizám, who induced him to
discard these garments and to clothe himself instead in a
615
military uniform. He was made to wear the kuláh,
a head-dress
that was thought to be more in accordance with the
rank his father held. Though the Amír insisted that he
should accept a position in the service of the government,
he obstinately refused to comply with his request. Most
of his time was spent in the company of the disciples of the
Báb, particularly those of His companions who had survived
the struggle of Tabarsí. He surrounded them with a care
and kindness truly surprising. He and his father were so
influential that the Amír-Nizám was induced to spare his
life and indeed to refrain from any acts of violence against
him. Though he was present in Tihrán when the seven companions
of the Báb, with whom he was intimately associated,
were martyred, neither the officials of the government nor
any of the common people ventured to demand his arrest.
Even in Tabríz, whither he had journeyed for the purpose of
saving the life of the Báb, not one among the inhabitants of
that city dared to lift a finger against him. The Amír-Nizám,
who was duly informed of all his services to the Cause of the
Báb, preferred to ignore his acts rather than precipitate a
conflict with him and his father.
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Soon after the martyrdom of a certain Mullá Zaynu’l-‘Abidin-i-Yazdí,
a rumour was spread that those whom the
government intended to put to death, among whom were
Siyyid Husayn, the Báb’s amanuensis, and Táhirih, were
to be released and that further persecution of their friends
was to be definitely abandoned. It was reported far and
wide that the Amír-Nizám, deeming the hour of his death
to be approaching, had been seized suddenly with a great
fear and, in an agony of repentance, had exclaimed: “I am
haunted by the vision of the Siyyid-i-Báb, whom I have
caused to be martyred. I can now see the fearful mistake
I have made. I should have restrained the violence of those
who pressed me to shed his blood and that of his companions.
I now perceive that the interests of the State required it.”
His successor, Mírzá Áqá Khán, was similarly inclined in the
early days of his administration, and was intending to inaugurate
his ministry with a lasting reconciliation between
him and the followers of the Báb. He was preparing to
616
undertake that task when the attempt on the life of the
Sháh shattered his plans and threw the capital into a state
of unprecedented confusion.
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I have heard the Most Great Branch,
who in those days
was a child of only eight years of age, recount one of His
experiences as He ventured to leave the house in which He
was then residing. “We had sought shelter, He told us,
“in the house of My uncle, Mírzá Ismá’íl. Tihrán was in the
throes of the wildest excitement. I ventured at times to
sally forth from that house and to cross the street on My
way to the market. I would hardly cross the threshold and
step into the street, when boys of My age, who were running
about, would crowd around Me crying, ‘Babi! Bábí. Knowing
well the state of excitement into which all the inhabitants
of the capital, both young and old, had fallen, I would deliberately
ignore their clamour and quietly steal away to
My home. One day I happened to be walking alone through
the market on My way to My uncle’s house. As I was looking
behind Me, I found a band of little ruffians running fast to
overtake Me. They were pelting Me with stones and shouting
menacingly, ‘Babi! Bábí!’ To intimidate them seemed
to be the only way I could avert the danger with which I
was threatened. I turned back and rushed towards them with
such determination that they fled away in distress and vanished.
I could hear their distant cry, ‘The little Bábí is fast
pursuing us! He will surely overtake and slay us all!’ As
I was directing My steps towards home, I heard a man
shouting at the top of his voice: ‘Well done, you brave and
fearless child! No one of your age would ever have been
able, unaided, to withstand their attack.’ From that day
onward, I was never again molested by any of the boys of
the streets, nor did I hear any offensive word fall from their
lips.”
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Among those who, in the midst of the general confusion,
were seized and thrown into prison was Hájí Sulaymán
Khán, the circumstances of whose martyrdom I now proceed
to relate. The facts I mention have been carefully sifted and
verified by me, and I owe them, for the most part, to Áqáy-i-Kalím,
who was himself in those days in Tihrán and was made
617
to share the terrors and sufferings of his brethren. “On the
very day of Hájí Sulaymán Khán’s martyrdom,” he informed
me, “I happened to be present, with Mírzá ‘Abdu’l-Majíd,
at a gathering in Tihrán at which a considerable
number of the notables and dignitaries of the capital were
present. Among them was Hájí Mullá Mahmúd, the Nizámu’l-‘Ulamá,
who requested the Kalantar to describe the actual
circumstances of the death of Hájí Sulaymán Khán. The
Kalantar motioned with his finger to Mírzá Taqí, the kad- khudá
who, he said, had conducted the victim from the
vicinity of the imperial palace to the place of his execution,
outside the gate of Naw. Mírzá Taqí was accordingly requested
to relate to those present all that he had seen and
heard. ‘I and my assistants,’ he said, ‘were ordered to purchase
nine candles and to thrust them, ourselves into deep
holes we were to cut in his flesh. We were instructed to light
each one of these candles and to conduct him through the
market to the accompaniment of drums and trumpets as far
as the place of his execution. There we were ordered to hew
his body into two halves, each of which we were asked to
suspend on either side of the gate of Naw. He himself chose
the manner in which he wished to be martyred. Hajíbu’d-Dawlih
had been commanded by Násiri’d-Dín Sháh to enquire
into the complicity of the accused, and, if assured of
his innocence, to induce him to recant. If he submitted, his
life was to be spared and he was to be detained pending the
final settlement of his case. In the event of his refusal, he
was to be put to death in whatever manner he himself might
desire.
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“‘The investigation of hajibu’d-Dawlih convinced him
of the innocence of Hájí Sulaymán Khán. The accused, as
soon as he had been informed of the instructions of his sovereign,
was heard joyously exclaiming: “Never, so long as
my life-blood continues to pulsate in my veins, shall I be
willing to recant my faith in my Beloved! This world which
the Commander of the Faithful
has likened to carrion will
never allure me from my heart’s Desire.” He was asked to
618
determine the manner in which he wished to die. “Pierce
holes in my flesh,” was the instant reply, “and in each wound
place a candle. Let nine candles be lighted all over my
body, and in this state conduct me through the streets of
Tihrán. Summon the multitude to witness the glory of my
martyrdom, so that the memory of my death may remain
imprinted in their hearts and help them, as they recall the
intensity of my tribulation, to recognise the Light I have
embraced. After I have reached the foot of the gallows and
have uttered the last prayer of my earthly life, cleave my
body in twain and suspend my limbs on either side of the
gate of Tihrán, that the multitude passing beneath it may
witness to the love which the Faith of the Báb has kindled
in the hearts of His disciples, and may look upon the proofs
of their devotion.”
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“‘Hajíbu’d-Dawlih instructed his men to abide by the
expressed wishes of Hájí Sulaymán Khán, and charged me
to conduct him through the market as far as the place of his
execution. As they handed to the victim the candles they
had purchased, and were preparing to thrust their knives into
his breast, he made a sudden attempt to seize the weapon
from the executioner’s trembling hands in order to plunge
it himself into his flesh. “Why fear and hesitate?” he cried,
as he stretched forth his arm to snatch the knife from his grasp.
“Let me myself perform the deed and light the candles.”
Fearing lest he should attack us, I ordered my men to resist
his attempt and bade them tie his hands behind his back.
“Let me,” he pleaded, point out with my fingers the places
into which I wish them to thrust their dagger, for I have no
other request to make besides this.”
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“‘He asked them to pierce two holes in his breast, two
in his shoulders, one in the nape of his neck, and the four
others in his back. With stoic calm he endured those tortures.
Steadfastness glowed in his eyes as he maintained a mysterious
and unbroken silence. Neither the howling of the multitude
nor the sight of the blood that streamed all over his body
could induce him to interrupt that silence. Impassive and
serene he remained until all the nine candles were placed in
position and lighted.
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“‘When all was completed for his march to the scene
619
of his death, he, standing erect as an arrow and with that
same unflinching fortitude gleaming upon his face, stepped
forward to lead the concourse that was pressing round him
to the place that was to witness the consummation of his
martyrdom. Every few steps he would interrupt his march
and, gazing at the bewildered bystanders, would shout:
“What greater pomp and pageantry than those which this
day accompany my progress to win the crown of glory!
Glorified be the Báb, who can kindle such devotion in the
breasts of His lovers, and can endow them with a power
greater than the might of kings!” At times, as if intoxicated
with the fervour of that devotion, he would exclaim:
“The Abraham of a bygone age, as He prayed God, in the hour of
bitter agony, to send down upon Him the refreshment for
which His soul was crying, heard the voice of the Unseen
proclaim: ‘O fire! Be thou cold, and to Abraham a safety!’
But this Sulaymán is crying out from the depths of his ravaged
heart: ‘Lord, Lord, let Thy fire burn unceasingly within
me, and suffer its flame to consume my being.’” As his eyes
saw the wax flicker in his wounds, he burst forth in an acclamation
of frantic delight: “Would that He whose hand has enkindled
my soul were here to behold my state!” “Think me
not to be intoxicated with the wine of this earth!” he cried
to the vast throng who stood aghast at the sight of his behaviour.
It is the love of my Beloved that has filled my
soul and made me feel endowed with a sovereignty which
even kings might envy!”
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“‘I cannot recall the exclamations of joy which fell from
his lips as he drew near to his end. All I remember are but a
few of the stirring words which, in his moments of exultation,
he was moved to cry out to the concourse of spectators.
Words fail me to portray the expression of that countenance
or to measure the effect of his words on the multitude.
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“‘He was still in the bazaar when the blowing of a breeze
excited the burning of the candles that were placed upon
his breast. As they melted rapidly, their flames reached
the level of the wounds into which they had been thrust.
We who were following a few steps behind him could hear
distinctly the sizzling of his flesh. The sight of gore and fire
620
which covered his body, instead of silencing his voice, appeared
to heighten his unquenchable enthusiasm. He could
still be heard, this time addressing the flames, as they ate into
his wounds: “You have long lost your sting, O flames, and
have been robbed of your power to pain me. Make haste,
for from your very tongues of fire I can hear the voice that
calls me to my Beloved!”
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“‘Pain and suffering seemed to have melted away in the
ardour of that enthusiasm. Enveloped by the flames, he
walked as a conqueror might have marched to the scene of
his victory. He moved through the excited crowd a blaze
of light amidst the gloom that surrounded him. Arriving
at the foot of the gallows, he again raised his voice in a last
appeal to the multitude of onlookers: “Did not this Sulaymán
whom you now see before you a prey to fire and blood,
enjoy until recently all the favours and riches the world can
bestow? What could have caused him to renounce this earthly
glory and accept in return such great degradation and suffering?”
Prostrating himself in the direction of the shrine of the
Imám-Zádih Hasan, he murmured certain words in Arabic
which I could not understand. “My work is now finished!”
he cried to the executioner, as soon as his prayer was ended.
“Come and do yours!” He was still alive when his body was
hewn into two halves with a hatchet. The praise of his
Beloved, despite such incredible sufferings, lingered upon
his lips until the last moment of his life.’
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“That tragic tale stirred the listeners to the very depths
of their souls. The Nizámu’l-‘Ulamá, who was listening intently
621
to all its details, wrung his hands in horror and despair.
How strange, how very strange, is this Cause!’ he exclaimed.
Without adding a further word of comment, he, immediately
after, arose and departed.”
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Those days of unceasing turmoil witnessed the martyrdom
of yet another eminent disciple of the Báb. A woman,
no less great and heroic than Táhirih herself, was engulfed
in the storm that was then raging with undiminished violence
throughout the capital. What I now begin to relate regarding
the circumstances of her martyrdom has been obtained
from trustworthy informants, some of whom were themselves
witnesses of the events I am attempting to describe.
Her stay in Tihrán was marked by many proofs of the warm
622
affection and high esteem in which she was held by the leading
women of the capital. She had reached, indeed, in those
days, the high-water mark of her popularity.
The house
where she was confined was besieged by her women admirers,
who thronged her doors, eager to enter her presence and to
seek the benefit of her knowledge.
Among these ladies, the
wife of Kalántar
distinguished herself by the extreme reverence
she showed to Táhirih. Acting as her hostess, she
introduced into her presence the flower of womanhood in
Tihrán, served her with extraordinary enthusiasm, and never
failed to contribute her share in deepening her influence
among her womenfolk. Persons with whom the wife of
Kalántar was intimately connected have heard her relate
the following: “One night, whilst Táhirih was staying in my
home, I was summoned to her presence and found her fully
adorned, dressed in a gown of snow-white silk. Her room
was redolent with the choicest perfume. I expressed to her
my surprise at so unusual a sight. ‘I am preparing to meet
my Beloved,’ she said, ‘and wish to free you from the cares
623
and anxieties of my imprisonment.’ I was much startled at
first, and wept at the thought of separation from her. ‘Weep
not, she sought to reassure me. ‘The time of your lamentation
is not yet come. I wish to share with you my last wishes,
for the hour when I shall be arrested and condemned to
suffer martyrdom is fast approaching. I would request you
to allow your son to accompany me to the scene of my death
and to ensure that the guards and executioner into whose
hands I shall be delivered will not compel me to divest myself
of this attire. It is also my wish that my body be thrown
into a pit, and that that pit be filled with earth and stones.
Three days after my death a woman will come and visit you,
to whom you will give this package which I now deliver into
your hands. My last request is that you permit no one
henceforth to enter my chamber. From now until the time
when I shall be summoned to leave this house, let no one be
allowed to disturb my devotions. This day I intend to fast—a fast which I shall not break until I am brought face to face
624
with my Beloved.’ She bade me, with these words, lock the
door of her chamber and not open it until the hour of her
departure should strike. She also urged me to keep secret
the tidings of her death until such time as her enemies should
themselves disclose it.
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“The great love I cherished for her in my heart, alone
enabled me to abide by her instructions. But for the compelling
desire I felt to fulfil her wishes, I would never have
consented to deprive myself of one moment of her presence.
I locked the door of her chamber and retired to my own, in a
state of uncontrollable sorrow. I lay sleepless and disconsolate
upon my bed. The thought of her approaching martyrdom
lacerated my soul. ‘Lord, Lord,’ I prayed in my despair,
‘turn from her, if it be Thy wish, the cup which her lips desire
to drink.’ That day and night, I several times, unable to
contain myself, arose and stole away to the threshold of
that room and stood silently at her door, eager to listen to
whatever might be falling from her lips. I was enchanted
by the melody of that voice which intoned the praise of her
Beloved. I could hardly remain standing upon my feet, so
625
great was my agitation. Four hours after sunset, I heard a
knocking at the door. I hastened immediately to my son,
and acquainted him with the wishes of Táhirih. He pledged
his word that he would fulfil every instruction she had given
me. It chanced that night that my husband was absent.
My son, who opened the door, informed me that the farrá shes
of Azíz Khán-i-Sardár were standing at the gate,
demanding that Táhirih be immediately delivered into their
hands. I was struck with terror by the news, and, as I tottered
to her door and with trembling hands unlocked it, found
her veiled and prepared to leave her apartment. She was
pacing the floor when I entered, and was chanting a litany
expressive of both grief and triumph. As soon as she saw
me, she approached and kissed me. She placed in my hand
the key to her chest, in which she said she had left for me a
few trivial things as a remembrance of her stay in my house.
Whenever you open this chest,’ she said, ‘and behold the
things it contains, you will, I hope, remember me and rejoice
in my gladness.’
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“With these words she bade me her last farewell, and,
accompanied by my son, disappeared from before my eyes.
What pangs of anguish I felt that moment, as I beheld her
beauteous form gradually fade away in the distance! She
mounted the steed which the Sardár had sent for her, and,
escorted by my son and a number of attendants, who marched
on each side of her, rode out to the garden that was to be
the scene of her martyrdom.
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“Three hours later my son returned, his face drenched
with tears, hurling imprecations at the Sardár and his abject
lieutenants. I tried to calm his agitation, and, seating him
beside me, asked him to relate as fully as he could the circumstances
of her death. ‘Mother,’ he sobbingly replied,
‘I can scarcely attempt to describe what my eyes have beheld.
We straightway proceeded to the Íl khání garden,
626
outside the gate of the city. There I found, to my horror,
the Sardár and his lieutenants absorbed in acts of debauchery
and shame, flushed with wine and roaring with laughter.
Arriving at the gate, Táhirih dismounted and, calling me to
her, asked me to act as her intermediary with the Sardár,
whom she said she was disinclined to address in the midst of
his revelry. ‘They apparently wish to strangle me,’ she said.
‘I set aside, long ago, a silken kerchief which I hoped would
be used for this purpose. I deliver it into your hands and
wish you to induce that dissolute drunkard to use it as a
means whereby he can take my life.’
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“When I went to the Sardár, I found him in a state of
wretched intoxication. ‘Interrupt not the gaiety of our
festival!’ I heard him shout as I approached him. ‘Let
that miserable wretch be strangled and her body be thrown
into a pit!’ I was greatly surprised at such an order. Believing
it unnecessary to venture any request from him, I
went to two of his attendants, with whom I was already
acquainted, and gave them the kerchief with which Táhirih
had entrusted me. They consented to grant her request.
That same kerchief was wound round her neck and was
made the instrument of her martyrdom. I hastened immediately
afterwards to the gardener and asked him whether
627
he could suggest a place where I could conceal the body. He
directed me, to my great delight, to a well that had been dug
recently and left unfinished. With the help of a few others,
I lowered her into her grave and filled the well with earth
and stones in the manner she herself had wished. Those who
saw her in her last moments were profoundly affected. With
downcast eyes and rapt in silence, they mournfully dispersed,
leaving their victim, who had shed so imperishable a lustre
upon their country, buried beneath a mass of stones which
they, with their own hands, had heaped upon her.
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I wept hot tears as my son unfolded to my eyes that
tragic tale. I was so overcome with emotion that I fell
prostrate and unconscious upon the ground. When I had
recovered, I found my son a prey to an agony no less severe
than my own. He lay upon his couch, weeping in a passion
of devotion. Beholding my plight, he approached and comforted
me. ‘Your tears,’ he said, ‘will betray you in the eyes
of my father. Considerations of rank and position will, no
doubt, induce him to forsake us and sever whatever ties
bind him to this home. He will, if we fail to repress our tears,
accuse us before Násiri’d-Dín Sháh, as victims of the charm
of a hateful enemy. He will obtain the sovereign’s consent
to our death, and will probably, with his own hands, proceed
to slay us. Why should we, who have never embraced that
Cause, allow ourselves to suffer such a fate at his hands?
All we should do is to defend her against those who denounce
her as the very negation of chastity and honour. We should
ever treasure her love in our hearts and maintain in the face
of a slanderous enemy the integrity of that life.’
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“His words allayed my inner agitation. I went to her
chest and, with the key she had placed in my hand, opened
it. I found a small vial of the choicest perfume, beside which
lay a rosary, a coral necklace, and three rings, mounted with
turquoise, cornelian, and ruby stones. As I gazed upon her
earthly belongings, I mused over the circumstances of her
eventful life, and recalled, with a throb of wonder, her intrepid
courage, her zeal, her high sense of duty and unquestioning
devotion. I was reminded of her literary attainments, and
brooded over the imprisonments, the shame, and the calumny
which she had faced with a fortitude such as no other woman
628
in her land could manifest. I pictured to myself that winsome
face which now, alas, lay buried beneath a mass of earth
and stones. The memory of her passionate eloquence warmed
my heart, as I repeated to myself the words that had so often
dropped from her lips. The consciousness of the vastness
of her knowledge, and her mastery of the sacred Scriptures
of Islám, flashed through my mind with a suddenness that
disconcerted me. Above all, her passionate loyalty to the
Faith she had embraced, her fervour as she pleaded its cause,
the services she rendered it, the woes and tribulations she
endured for its sake, the example she had given to its followers,
the impetus she had lent to its advancement the name she
had carved for herself in the hearts of her fellow-countrymen,
all these I remembered as I stood beside her chest,
wondering what could have induced so great a woman to
forsake all the riches and honours with which she had been
surrounded and to identify herself with the cause of an
obscure youth from Shíráz. What could have been the
secret, I thought to myself, of the power that tore her away
from her home and kindred, that sustained her throughout
her stormy career, and eventually carried her to her grave?
Could that force, I pondered, be of God? Could the hand
of the Almighty have guided her destiny and steered her
course amidst the perils of her life?
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“On the third day after her martyrdom,
the woman
whose coming she had promised arrived. I enquired her
name, and, finding it to be the same as the one Táhirih had
told me, delivered into her hands the package with which I
had been entrusted. I had never before met that woman,
nor did I ever see her again.”
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The name of that immortal woman was Fátimih, a name
which her father had bestowed upon her. She was surnamed
Umm-i-Salmih by her family and kindred, who also designated
her as Zakíyyih. She was born in the year 1233 A.H.,
the very year which witnessed the birth of Bahá’u’lláh. She
was thirty-six years of age when she suffered martyrdom in
Tihrán. May future generations be enabled to present a
629
worthy account of a life which her contemporaries have
failed adequately to recognise. May future historians perceive
the full measure of her influence, and record the unique
services this great woman has rendered to her land and its
people. May the followers of the Faith which she served so
well strive to follow her example, recount her deeds, collect
her writings, unfold the secret of her talents, and establish
her, for all time, in the memory and affections of the peoples
and kindreds of the earth.
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Another distinguished figure among the disciples of the
Báb who met his death during the turbulent time that had
overwhelmed Tihrán was Siyyid Husayn-i-Yazdí, who was
the Báb’s amanuensis both in Máh-Kú and Chihríq. Such
was his knowledge of the teachings of the Faith that the
Báb, in a Tablet addressed to Mírzá Yahyá, urged the latter
to seek enlightenment from him in whatever might pertain
to the sacred writings. A man of standing and experience,
in whom the Báb reposed the utmost confidence and with
whom he had been intimately associated, he suffered, after
the martyrdom of his Master in Tabríz, the agony of a long
confinement in the subterranean dungeon of Tihrán, which
confinement terminated in his martyrdom. To a very great
630
extent, Bahá’u’lláh helped to allay the hardships from which
he suffered. Regularly every month He sent him whatever
financial assistance he required. He was praised and admired
even by the gaolers who watched over him. His long and
intimate companionship with the Báb, during the last and
stormiest days of His life, had deepened his understanding
and endowed his soul with a power which he was destined to
manifest more and more as the days of his earthly life drew
near to their close. He lay in the prison, longing for the
time when he should be called upon to suffer a death similar
to that of his Master. Deprived of the privilege of being
martyred on the same day as the Báb, a privilege which it
had been his supreme desire to attain, he now eagerly awaited
the hour when he, in his turn, should drain to the very dregs
the cup that had touched His lips. Many a time did the
leading officials of Tihrán strive to induce him to accept their
offer to deliver him from the rigours of his imprisonment, as
well as from the prospect of a still more cruel death. He
steadfastly refused. Tears flowed unceasingly from his eyes—tears born of his longing to see again that face whose radiance
had shone so brightly amidst the darkness of a cruel incarceration
in Á dhirbayján, and whose glow warmed the chill
631
of its wintry nights. As he mused in the gloom of his prison
cell over those blissful days spent in the presence of his
Master, there came to him One who alone could banish, by
the light of His presence, the anguish that had settled upon
his soul. His Comforter was none other than Bahá’u’lláh
Himself. In His company Siyyid Husayn was privileged to
remain until the hour of his death. The hand of Azíz Khán-i-Sardár,
which had struck down Táhirih, was the hand that
dealt the fatal blow to the Báb’s amanuensis and sometime
fellow-prisoner in Á dhirbayján. I need not expatiate upon
the circumstances of the death which that murderous Sardár
inflicted upon him. Suffice it to say that he too, like those
who went before, drank, in circumstances of shameful cruelty,
the cup for which he had so long and so deeply yearned.
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I now proceed to relate what befell the remaining companions
of the Báb, those who had been privileged to share
the horrors of the confinement with Bahá’u’lláh. From His
own lips I have often heard the following account: “All those
who were struck down by the storm that raged during that
memorable year in Tihrán were Our fellow-prisoners in the
Síyáh- Chál, where We were confined. We were all huddled
together in one cell, our feet in stocks, and around our necks
fastened the most galling of chains. The air we breathed was
laden with the foulest impurities, while the floor on which
632
we sat was covered with filth and infested with vermin. No
ray of light was allowed to penetrate that pestilential dungeon
or to warm its icy-coldness. We were placed in two rows,
each facing the other. We had taught them to repeat certain
verses which, every night, they chanted with extreme fervour.
‘God is sufficient unto me; He verily is the All-sufficing!’
one row would intone, while the other would reply: ‘In Him
let the trusting trust.’ The chorus of these gladsome voices
would continue to peal out until the early hours of the morning.
Their reverberation would fill the dungeon, and, piercing
its massive walls, would reach the ears of Násiri’d-Dín Sháh,
whose palace was not far distant from the place where we
were imprisoned. ‘What means this sound?’ he was reported
to have exclaimed. ‘It is the anthem the Bábís are intoning
in their prison,’ they replied. The Sháh made no further
remarks, nor did he attempt to restrain the enthusiasm his
prisoners, despite the horrors of their confinement, continued
to display.
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“One day, there was brought to Our prison a tray of
roasted meat, which they informed Us the Sháh had ordered
to be distributed among the prisoners. ‘The Sháh,’ We were
told, ‘faithful to a vow he made, has chosen this day to offer
to you all this lamb in fulfilment of his pledge.’ A deep silence
fell upon Our companions, who expected Us to make answer
on their behalf. ‘We return this gift to you,’ We replied;
‘we can well dispense with this offer.’ The answer We made
would have greatly irritated the guards had they not been eager
to devour the food we had refused to touch. Despite the
hunger with which Our companions were afflicted, only one
among them, a certain Mírzá Husayn-i-Matavalliy-i-Qumí,
showed any desire to eat of the food the sovereign had chosen
to spread before us. With a fortitude that was truly heroic,
Our fellow-prisoners submitted, without a murmur, to endure
the piteous plight to which they were reduced. Praise of
God, instead of complaint of the treatment meted out to
them by the Sháh, fell unceasingly from their lips—praise
with which they sought to beguile the hardships of a cruel
captivity.
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“Every day Our gaolers, entering Our cell, would call the
name of one of Our companions, bidding him arise and follow
633
them to the foot of the gallows. With what eagerness would
the owner of that name respond to that solemn call! Relieved
of his chains, he would spring to his feet and, in a state of uncontrollable
delight, would approach and embrace Us. We
would seek to comfort him with the assurance of an everlasting
life in the world beyond, and, filling his heart with
hope and joy, would send him forth to win the crown of
glory. He would embrace, in turn, the rest of his fellow-prisoners
and then proceed to die as dauntlessly as he had
lived. Soon after the martyrdom of each of these companions,
We would be informed by the executioner, who had grown
to be friendly to Us, of the circumstances of the death of his
victim, and of the joy with which he had endured his sufferings
to the very end.
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“We were awakened one night, ere break of day, by Mírzá
‘Abdu’l-Vahháb-i- Shírází, who was bound with Us to the
same chains. He had left Kazímayn and followed Us to
Tihrán, where he was arrested and thrown into prison. He
asked Us whether We were awake, and proceeded to relate to
Us his dream. ‘I have this night,’ he said, ‘been soaring
into a space of infinite vastness and beauty. I seemed to be
uplifted on wings that carried me wherever I desired to go.
A feeling of rapturous delight filled my soul. I flew in the
midst of that immensity with a swiftness and ease that I
cannot describe.’ ‘To-day,’ We replied, ‘it will be your turn
to sacrifice yourself for this Cause. May you remain firm
and steadfast to the end. You will then find yourself soaring
in that same limitless space of which you dreamed, traversing
with the same ease and swiftness the realm of immortal sovereignty,
and gazing with that same rapture upon the Infinite
Horizon.’
|
“That morning saw the gaoler again enter Our cell and
call out the name of ‘Abdu’l-Vahháb. Throwing off his chains,
he sprang to his feet, embraced each of his fellow-prisoners,
and, taking Us into his arms, pressed Us lovingly to his heart.
That moment We discovered that he had no shoes to wear
We gave him Our own, and, speaking a last word of encouragement
and cheer, sent him forth to the scene of his
martyrdom. Later on, his executioner came to Us, praising
in glowing language the spirit which that youth had shown.
634
How thankful We were to God for this testimony which the
executioner himself had given!”
|
All this suffering and the cruel revenge the authorities
had taken on those who had attempted the life of their
sovereign failed to appease the anger of the Sháh’s mother.
Day and night she persisted in her vindictive clamour, demanding
the execution of Bahá’u’lláh, whom she still regarded
as the real author of the crime. “Deliver him to the
executioner!” she insistently cried to the authorities. “What
greater humiliation than this, that I, who am the mother of
the Sháh, should be powerless to inflict upon that criminal
the punishment so dastardly an act deserves!” Her cry for
vengeance, which an impotent rage served to intensify, was
doomed to remain unanswered. Despite her machinations,
Bahá’u’lláh was saved from the fate she had so importunately
striven to precipitate. The Prisoner was eventually released
from His confinement, and was able to unfold and establish,
beyond the confines of the kingdom of her son, a sovereignty
the possibility of which she could never even have dreamed
of. The blood shed in the course of that fateful year in
Tihrán by that heroic band with whom Bahá’u’lláh had been
imprisoned, was the ransom paid for His deliverance from
the hand of a foe that sought to prevent Him from achieving
the purpose for which God had destined Him. Ever since
the time He espoused the Cause of the Báb, He had never
neglected one single occasion to champion the Faith He had
embraced. He had exposed Himself to the perils which the
followers of the Faith had to face in its early days. He was
the first of the Báb’s disciples to set the example of renunciation
and service to the Cause. Yet His life, beset as it was
by the risks and dangers that a career such as His was sure
to encounter, was spared by that same Providence who had
chosen Him for a task which He, in His wisdom, deemed it
as yet too soon to proclaim publicly.
|
The terror that convulsed Tihrán was but one of the
many risks and dangers to which Bahá’u’lláh’s life was exposed.
Men, women, and children in the capital trembled
at the ruthlessness with which the enemy pursued their
victims. A youth named Abbás, a former servant of Hájí
Sulaymán Khán, and fully informed, owing to the wide
635
circle of friends whom his master cultivated, of the names
the number, and the dwelling places of the Báb’s disciples,
was employed by the enemy as an instrument ready to hand
for the prosecution of its designs. He had identified himself
with the Faith of his master, and regarded himself as one of
its zealous supporters. At the outset of the turmoil, he was
arrested and compelled to betray all those whom he knew
to be associated with the Faith. They sought by every
manner of reward to induce him to reveal those who were
his master’s fellow-disciples, and warned him that, should
he refuse to disclose their names, he would be subjected to
inhuman tortures. He pledged his word that he would act
according to their wishes and would inform the assistants
of Hájí ‘Alí Khán, the Hajíbu’d-Dawlih, the Farrá sh-Bá shí,
of their names and abodes. He was taken through the streets
of Tihrán and directed to point out everyone he recognised
as being a follower of the Báb. A number of people whom he
had never met and known were in this manner delivered
into the hands of Hájí ‘Alí Khán’s assistants—people who had
never had any connection with the Báb and His Cause. These
were able to recover their freedom only after having paid a
heavy bribe to those who had captured them. Such was the
greed of the Hajíbu’d-Dawlih’s attendants that they specially
requested Abbás to salute as a sign of betrayal every person
who he thought would be willing and able to pay large sums
for his deliverance. They would even force him to betray
such persons, threatening that his refusal would be fraught
with grave danger to his own life. They would frequently
promise to give him a share of the money they determined
to extort from their victims.
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This Abbás was taken to the Síyáh- Chál and introduced
to Bahá’u’lláh, whom he had met previously on several
occasions in the company of his master, in the hope that he
would betray Him. They promised that the mother of the
Sháh would amply reward him for such a betrayal. Every
time he was taken into Bahá’u’lláh’s presence, Abbás, after
standing a few moments before Him and gazing upon His
face, would leave the place, emphatically denying ever having
seen Him. Having failed in their efforts, they resorted to
poison, in the hope of obtaining the favour of the mother of
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their sovereign. They were able to intercept the food that
their Prisoner was permitted to receive from His home, and
mixed with it the poison they hoped would be fatal to Him.
This measure, though impairing the health of Bahá’u’lláh
for years, failed to achieve its purpose.
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The enemy was finally induced to cease regarding Him as
the prime mover of that attempt, and decided to transfer
the responsibility for this act to Azím, whom they now accused
of being the real author of the crime. By this means
they endeavoured to obtain the favour of the mother of the
Sháh, a favour they greatly coveted. Hájí ‘Alí Khán was
only too happy to second their efforts. As he himself had
taken no share in imprisoning Bahá’u’lláh, he seized upon
the occasion which offered itself to denounce Azím, whom
he had already succeeded in arresting, as the chief and responsible
instigator.
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The Russian minister, who, through one of his agents,
was watching the developments of the situation and keeping
in close touch with the condition of Bahá’u’lláh, addressed,
through his interpreter, a strongly worded message to the
Grand Vazír, in which he protested against his action, suggesting
that a messenger should proceed, in the company of one of
the government’s trusted representatives and of
Hajíbu’d-Dawlih, to the Síyáh- Chál and there ask the newly
recognised leader to declare publicly his opinion regarding
Bahá’u’lláh’s position. “Whatever that leader may declare,”
he wrote, “whether in praise or denunciation, I think ought
to be immediately recorded and should serve as a basis for
the final judgment which should be pronounced in this
affair.”
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The Grand Vazír promised the interpreter that he would
follow the minister’s advice, and even appointed a time for
the messenger to join the government representative and
Hajíbu’d-Dawlih and proceed with them to the Síyáh- Chál.
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When Azím was questioned as to whether he regarded
Bahá’u’lláh as the responsible leader of the group that had
made the attempt on the Sháh’s life, he answered: “The Leader
of this community was none other than the Siyyid-i-Báb,
who was slain in Tabríz, and whose martyrdom induced me
to arise and avenge His death. I alone conceived this plan
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and endeavoured to execute it. The youth who threw the
Sháh from his horse was none other than Sádiq-i-Tabrízí, a
servitor in a confectioner’s shop in Tihrán who had been for
two years in my service. He was fired with a desire even
more burning than my own to avenge the martyrdom of his
Leader. He acted too hastily, however, and failed to make
certain the success of his attempt.”
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The words of his declaration were taken down by both
the minister’s interpreter and the Grand Vazír’s representative,
who submitted their records to Mírzá Áqá Khán.
The documents which were placed in his hands were chiefly
responsible for Bahá’u’lláh’s release from His imprisonment.
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Azím was accordingly delivered into the hands of the
‘ulamás, who, though themselves anxious to hasten his
death, were prevented by the hesitancy of Mírzá Abu’l
Qásim, the Imám-Jum’ih of Tihrán. Hajíbu’d-Dawlih, because
of the near approach of the month of Muharram, induced
the ‘ulamás to assemble on the upper floor of the barracks,
where he succeeded in obtaining the presence of the
Imám-Jum’ih, who still persisted in his refusal to consent
to the death of Azím. He directed that the accused be
brought to that place and there await the judgment that was
to be pronounced against him. He was roughly conducted
through the streets, overwhelmed with ridicule, and reviled
by the populace. Through a subtle device which the enemy
had contrived, they succeeded in obtaining a verdict for
death. A siyyid armed with a club rushed at him and smashed
his head. His example was followed by the people, who, with
sticks, stones, and daggers, fell upon him and mutilated his
body. Hájí Mírzá Jání also was among those who suffered
martyrdom in the course of the agitation that followed the
attempt on the life of the Sháh. Owing to the disinclination
of the Grand Vazír to harm him, he was secretly put to death.
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The conflagration kindled in the capital spread to the
adjoining provinces, bringing in its wake devastation and
misery to countless innocent people among the subjects of the
Sháh. It ravaged Mázindarán, the home of Bahá’u’lláh,
and was the signal for acts of violence which were directed
mainly against all His possessions in that province. Two
of the Báb’s devoted disciples, Muhammad-Taqí Khán and
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‘Abdu’l-Vahháb, both residents of Núr, suffered martyrdom
as the result of that turmoil.
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The enemies of the Faith, finding to their disappointment
that Bahá’u’lláh’s deliverance from prison was almost assured,
sought by intimidating their sovereign to involve
Him in fresh complications and thus encompass His death.
The folly of Mírzá Yahyá, who, driven by his idle hopes,
had sought to secure for himself and the band of his foolish
supporters a supremacy which hitherto he had in vain laboured
to obtain, served as a further pretext for the enemy
to urge the Sháh to take drastic measures for the destruction
of whatever influence his Prisoner still retained in Mázindarán.
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The alarming reports received by the Sháh, who had
scarcely recovered from his wounds, stirred in him a terrible
thirst for revenge. He summoned the Grand Vazír and reprimanded
him for having failed to maintain order and discipline
among the people of his own province, who were
bound to him by ties of kinship. Disconcerted by the rebuke
of his sovereign, he expressed his readiness to fulfil whatever
he would direct him to do. He was bidden despatch immediately
to that province several regiments, with strict orders
to repress with a ruthless hand the disturbers of the public
peace.
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The Grand Vazír, though fully aware of the exaggerated
character of the reports that had been submitted to him, found
himself compelled, owing to the Sháh’s insistence, to order
the despatch of the Sháh-Sun regiment, headed by Husayn-‘Alí
Khán-i- Sháh-Sun, to the village of Tákúr, in the district
of Núr, where the home of Bahá’u’lláh was situated. He
gave the supreme command into the hands of his nephew,
Mírzá Abú-Talíb Khán, brother-in-law of Mírzá Hasan, who
was Bahá’u’lláh’s half-brother. Mírzá Áqá Khán urged him to
exercise the utmost caution and restraint while encamping
in that village. “Whatever excesses,” he urged him, “are
committed by your men will react unfavourably on the prestige
of Mírzá Hasan and be the cause of affliction to your
own sister.” He bade him investigate the nature of these
reports and not to encamp more than three days in the
vicinity of that village.
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The Grand Vazír afterwards summoned Husayn-‘Alí
Khán and exhorted him to conduct himself with the utmost
circumspection and wisdom. “Mírzá Abú-Talíb,” he said,
is still young and inexperienced. I have specially chosen
him owing to his kinship to Mírzá Hasan. I trust that he
will, for the sake of his sister, refrain from causing unnecessary
injury to the inhabitants of Tákúr. Being superior to him
in age and experience, you must set him a noble example and
impress on him the necessity of serving the interests of both
government and people. You must never allow him to undertake
any operations without having previously consulted
with you.” He assured Husayn-‘Alí Khán that he had
issued written instructions to the chieftains of that district,
calling upon them to come to his assistance whenever required.
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Mírzá Abú-Talíb Khán, flushed with pride and enthusiasm,
forgot the counsels of moderation the Grand Vazír had given
him. He refused to be influenced by the pressing appeals
of Husayn-‘Alí Khán, who entreated him not to provoke an
unnecessary conflict with the people. No sooner had he
reached the pass which divided the district of Núr from the
adjoining province, which was not far distant from Tákúr,
than he ordered his men to prepare for an attack upon the
people of that village. Husayn-‘Alí Khán ran to him in
despair and begged him to refrain from such an act. “It is
640
for me,” Mírzá Abú-Talíb haughtily retorted, “who am your
superior, to decide what measures should be taken and in
what manner I should serve my sovereign.”
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A sudden attack was launched upon the defenceless people
of Tákúr. Surprised by so unexpected and fierce an onslaught,
they appealed to Mírzá Hasan, who asked to be introduced
into the presence of Mírzá Abú-Talíb but was refused admittance.
“Tell him,” was the commander’s message, that
641
I am charged by my sovereign to order a wholesale massacre
of the people of this village, to capture its women and confiscate
their property. For your sake, however, I am willing
to spare such women as take refuge in your house.”
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Mírzá Hasan, indignant at this refusal, severely censured
him and, denouncing the action of the Sháh, returned to his
home. The men of that village had meanwhile left their
dwellings and sought refuge in the neighbouring mountains.
Their women, abandoned to their fate, betook themselves
to the home of Mírzá Hasan, whom they implored to protect
them from the enemy.
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The first act of Mírzá Abú-Talíb Khán was directed
against the house Bahá’u’lláh had inherited from the Vazír,
His father, and of which He was the sole possessor. That
house had been royally furnished and was decorated with
vessels of inestimable value. He ordered his men to break
open all its treasuries and to take away their contents. Such
things as he was unable to carry away, he ordered to be
destroyed. Some were shattered, others were burned. Even
the rooms, which were more stately than those of the palaces
of Tihrán, were disfigured beyond repair; the beams were
burned down and the decorations utterly ruined.
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He next turned to the houses of the people, which he
levelled with the ground, appropriating to himself and his
men whatever valuables they contained. The entire village,
despoiled and deserted by its men inhabitants, was delivered
to the flames. Not able to find any able-bodied men, he
ordered that a search be conducted in the neighbouring
mountains. Any who were found were to be either shot or
captured. All they could lay their hands upon were a few
aged men and shepherds who had been unable to proceed
further afield in their flight from the enemy. They discovered
two men lying in the distance on the slopes of a mountain
beside a running brook. Their weapons gleaming under the
rays of the sun had betrayed them. Finding them asleep,
they shot them both from across the brook which intervened
between the assailants and their victims. They recognised
them as ‘Abdu’l-Vahháb and Muhammad-Taqí Khán. The
former was shot dead, while the latter was severely wounded.
They were carried into the presence of Mírzá Abú-Talíb,
642
who did his best to preserve the life of the victim whom he
wished, owing to his far-famed courage, to take with him to
Tihrán as a trophy of his victory. His efforts failed, however,
for Muhammad-Taqí Khán, two days after, died from his
wounds. The few men they had been able to capture were
led in chains to Tihrán and thrown into the same underground
dungeon where Bahá’u’lláh had been confined.
Among them was Mullá ‘Alí-Bábá, who, together with a
number of his fellow-prisoners, perished in that dungeon
as a result of the hardships he had endured.
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The year after, this same Mírzá Abú-Talíb was stricken
with plague and taken in a state of wretched misery to
Shimírán. Shunned by even his nearest kindred, he lay on
his sick-bed until this same Mírzá Hasan, whom he had so
haughtily insulted, offered to tend his sores and bear him
company in his days of humiliation and loneliness. He was
on the brink of death when the Grand Vazír visited him and
found none at his bedside but the one whom he had so rudely
treated. That very day that wretched tyrant expired, bitterly
disappointed at the failure of all the hopes he had fondly
cherished.
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The commotion that had seized Tihrán, the effects of
which had been severely felt in Núr and the surrounding
district, spread as far as Yazd and Nayríz, where a considerable
number of the Báb’s disciples were seized and inhumanly
martyred. The whole of Persia seemed, indeed, to have felt
the shock of that great convulsion. Its tide swept as far as
the remotest hamlets of the distant provinces, and brought
in its wake untold sufferings to the remnants of a persecuted
community. Governors, no less than their subordinates,
inflamed with greed and revenge, seized the occasion to enrich
themselves and obtain the favour of their sovereign. Without
mercy, moderation, or shame, they employed any means,
however base and lawless, to extort from the innocent the
benefits they themselves coveted. Forsaking every principle
of justice and decency, they arrested, imprisoned, and
tortured whomsoever they suspected of being a Bábí, and
would hasten to inform Násiri’d-Dín Sháh in Tihrán of the
victories achieved over a detested opponent.
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In Nayríz the full effects of that turmoil revealed themselves
643
in the treatment accorded by its rulers and people to the
followers of the Báb. About two months after the attempt
on the life of the Sháh, a young man named Mírzá
‘Alí, whose exceptional courage had earned for him the
surname of ‘Alíy-i-Sardár, distinguished himself by the extreme
solicitude he extended to the survivors of the struggle
which ended with the death of Vahíd and his supporters.
He was often seen in the darkness of the night to emerge from
his shelter, carrying whatever aid was in his power to the
widows and orphans who had suffered from the consequences
of that tragedy. To those in need he distributed food and
garments with noble generosity, tended their injuries, and
comforted them in their sorrow. The sight of the continuous
sufferings of these innocent ones stirred the fierce indignation
of some of Mírzá ‘Alí’s companions, who undertook to wreak
their vengeance upon Zaynu’l-Ábidín Khán, who was still
dwelling in Nayríz and whom they regarded as the author
of their misfortunes. Believing that he had still in his heart
a desire to subject them to even further afflictions, they determined
to take his life. They surprised him in the public
bath, where they succeeded in accomplishing their purpose.
This led to an upheaval that recalled in its concluding stages
the horror of the butcheries of Zanján.
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Zaynu’l-Ábidín Khán’s widow pressed Mírzá Na’ím, who
held the reins of authority in his grasp and was then residing
in Shíráz, to avenge the blood of her husband, promising that
she would in return bestow all her jewels upon him and would
transfer to his name whatever he might desire of her possessions.
Through treachery, the authorities succeeded in
capturing a considerable number of the Báb’s followers,
many of whom were savagely beaten. All were thrown into
prison, pending the receipt of instructions from Tihrán. The
Grand Vazír submitted the list of names he had received,
together with the report that accompanied it, to the Sháh,
who expressed his extreme satisfaction at the success that
had attended the efforts of his representative in Shíráz, and
whom he amply rewarded for his signal service. He asked
that all those who were captured be brought to the capital.
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I shall not attempt to record the various circumstances
that led to the carnage which marked the termination of
644
that episode. I would refer my reader to the graphic and
detailed account which Mírzá Shafí-i-Nayrízí has written
in a separate booklet, in which he refers with accuracy and
force to every detail of that moving event. Suffice it to say
that no less than one hundred and eighty of the Báb’s valiant
disciples suffered martyrdom. A like number were wounded
and, though incapacitated by their injuries, were ordered to
leave for Tihrán. Only twenty-eight persons among them
survived the hardships of the journey to the capital. Of
these twenty-eight, fifteen were taken to the gallows on the
very day of their arrival. The rest were thrown into prison
and made to suffer for two years the most horrible atrocities.
Though eventually released, many of them perished on their
way to their homes, exhausted by the trials of a long and
cruel captivity.
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A large number of their fellow-disciples were slain in
Shíráz by order of Tahmásb-Mírzá. The heads of two hundred
of these victims were placed on bayonets and carried
triumphantly by their oppressors to Ábádih, a village in Fárs.
They were intending to take them to Tihrán, when a royal
messenger commanded them to abandon their project, whereupon
they decided to bury the heads in that village.
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As to the women, who were six hundred in number, half
of them were released in Nayríz, while the rest were carried,
645
each two being forced to ride together on an unsaddled
horse, to Shíráz, where, after being submitted to severe
tortures, they were abandoned to their fate. Many perished
on their way to that city; many yielded up their lives to the
afflictions they were made to endure ere they recovered
their freedom. My pen shrinks in horror in attempting to
describe what befell those valiant men and women who were
made to suffer so severely for their Faith. The wanton barbarity
that characterised the treatment meted out to them
reached the lowest depths of infamy in the concluding stages
of that lamentable episode. What I have attempted to
recount of the horrors of the siege of Zanján, of the indignities
heaped upon Hujjat and his supporters, pales before the
glaring ferocity of the atrocities perpetrated a few years
later in Nayríz and Shíráz. A pen abler than mine to describe
in all their tragic details these unspeakable savageries
will, I trust, be found to place on record a tale which, however
grim its features, must ever remain as one of the noblest
evidences of the faith which the Cause of the Báb was able
to inspire in His followers.
646
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The confession of Azím freed Bahá’u’lláh from the
danger to which His life had been exposed. The circumstances
of the death of him who had declared himself the chief instigator
of that crime served to abate the wrath with which
an enraged populace clamoured for the immediate punishment
of so daring an attempt. The cries of rage and vengeance,
the appeals for immediate retribution, which had
hitherto been focussed on Bahá’u’lláh were now diverted
from Him. The ferocity of those claimant denunciations
was, by degrees, much allayed. The conviction grew firmer
in the minds of the responsible authorities in Tihrán that
Bahá’u’lláh hitherto regarded as the arch-foe of Násiri’d-Dín
647
Sháh, was by no means involved in any conspiracy against
the sovereign’s life. Mírzá Áqá Khán was therefore encouraged
to send his trusted representative, a man named
Hájí ‘Alí, to the Síyáh- Chál, and to present the order for His
release to the Prisoner.
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Upon his arrival, the sight which the emissary beheld
filled him with grief and surprise. The spectacle which met
his eyes was one he could scarcely believe. He wept as he
saw Bahá’u’lláh chained to a floor that was infested with
vermin, His neck weighed down by galling chains, His face
laden with sorrow, ungroomed and dishevelled, breathing
the pestilential atmosphere of the most terrible of dungeons.
648
“Accursed be Mírzá Áqá Khán!” he burst forth, as his eyes
recognised Bahá’u’lláh in the gloom that surrounded Him.
“God knows I had never imagined that you could have been
subjected to so humiliating a captivity. I should never have
thought that the Grand Vazír could have dared commit so
heinous an act.”
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He removed the mantle from his shoulders and presented
it to Bahá’u’lláh, entreating Him to wear it when in the
presence of the minister and his counsellors. Bahá’u’lláh
refused his request, and, wearing the dress of a prisoner,
proceeded straightway to the seat of the imperial government.
The first word the Grand Vazír was moved to address to
his Captive was the following: “Had you chosen to take my
advice, and had you dissociated yourself from the faith of
the Siyyid-i-Báb, you would never have suffered the pains
and indignities that have been heaped upon you.” “Had
you, in your turn,” Bahá’u’lláh replied, “followed my counsels,
the affairs of the government would not have reached
so critical a stage.”
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He was immediately reminded of the conversation he had
649
had with Him on the occasion of the Báb’s martyrdom. The
words, “the flame that has been kindled will blaze forth more
fiercely than ever,” flashed through the mind of Mírzá Áqá
Khán. “The warning you uttered,” he remarked, “has,
alas been fulfilled. What is it that you advise me now to
do?” “Command the governors of the realm,” was the
instant reply, “to cease shedding the blood of the innocent,
to cease plundering their property, to cease dishonouring
their women and injuring their children. Let them cease
the persecution of the Faith of the Báb; let them abandon
the idle hope of wiping out its followers.”
650
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That same day orders were given, through a circular addressed
to all the governors of the realm, bidding them desist
from their acts of cruelty and shame. “What you have done
is enough,” Mírzá Áqá Khán wrote them. “Cease arresting
and punishing the people. Disturb no longer the peace and
tranquillity of your countrymen.” The Sháh’s government
had been deliberating as to the most effective measures that
should be taken to rid the country, once and for all, of the
curse with which it had been afflicted. No sooner had Bahá’u’lláh
recovered His freedom than the decision of the government
was handed to Him, informing Him that within a
month of the issuing of this order, He, with His family, was
expected to leave Tihrán for a place beyond the confines of
Persia.
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The Russian minister, as soon as he learned of the action
which the government contemplated taking, volunteered to
take Bahá’u’lláh under his protection, and invited Him to
go to Russia. He refused the offer and chose instead to
leave for ‘Iráq. Nine months after His return from Karbilá,
on the first day of the month of Rabí’u’ th- Thání, in the year
1269 A.H.,
Bahá’u’lláh, accompanied by the members of
His family, among whom were the Most Great Branch
and Áqáy-i-Kalím,
and escorted by a member of the imperial
body-guard and an official representing the Russian legation,
set out from Tihrán on His journey to Ba ghdád.
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