unlocking of metaphorical prison-gates, was displayed in the case of Mulla Huseyn both in voyages on the ocean of Truth, and in warfare. Yes, the Mulla’s fragile form might suggest the student, but he had also the precious faculty of generalship, and a happy perfection of fearlessness.
Like the Bab himself in his preparation-period, he gave his adhesion to the Sheykhi school of theology, and on the decease of the former leader (Sayyid Kazim) he went, like other members of the school, to seek for a new spiritual head. Now it so happened that Sayyid Kazim had already turned the eyes of Huseyn towards ‘Ali Muhammad; already this eminent theosophist had a presentiment that wonderful things were in store for the young visitor from Shiraz. It was natural, therefore, that Huseyn should seek further information and guidance from ‘Ali Muhammad himself. No trouble could be too great; the object could not be attained in a single interview, and as ‘Ali Muhammad was forbidden to leave his house at Shiraz, secrecy was indispensable. Huseyn, therefore, was compelled to spend the greater part of the day in his new teacher’s house.
The concentration of thought to which the constant nearness of a great prophet (and ‘more than a prophet’) naturally gave birth had the only possible result. All barriers were completely broken down, and Huseyn recognized in his heaven-sent teacher the Gate (_Bab_) which opened on to the secret abode of the vanished Imam, and one charged with a commission to bring into existence the world-wide Kingdom of Righteousness. To seal his approval of this thorough conversion, which was hitherto without a parallel, the Bab conferred on his new adherent the title of ‘The First to Believe.’
This honourable title, however, is not the only one used by this Hero of God. Still more frequently he was called ‘The Gate of the Gate,’ i.e. the Introducer to Him through Whom all true wisdom comes; or, we may venture to say, the Bab’s Deputy. Two other titles maybe mentioned. One is ‘The Gate.’ Those who regarded ‘Ali Muhammad of Shiraz as the ‘Point’ of prophecy and the returned Imam (the Ka’im) would naturally ascribe to his representative the vacant dignity of ‘The Gate.’ Indeed, it is one indication of this that the Subh-i-Ezel designates Mulla Huseyn not as the Gate’s Gate, but simply as the Gate.
And now the ‘good fight of faith’ begins in earnest. First of all, the Bab’s Deputy (or perhaps ‘the Bab’ [Footnote: Some Babi writers (including Subh-i-Ezel) certainly call MullaHuseyn ‘the Bab.’]–but this might confuse the reader) is sent to Khurasan, [Footnote: _NH_, p. 44.] taking Isfahan and Tihran in his way. I need not catalogue the names of his chief converts and their places of residence. [Footnote: See Nicolas, _AMB_.] Suffice it to mention here that among the converts were Baha-‘ullah, Muhammad ‘Ali of Zanjan, and Haji Mirza Jani, the same who has left us a much ‘overworked’ history of Babism (down to the time of his martyrdom). Also that among the places visited was Omar Khayyam’s Nishapur, and that two attempts were made by the ‘Gate’s Gate’ to carry the Evangel into the Shi’ite Holy Land (Mash-had).
But it was time to reopen communications with the ‘lord from Shiraz’ (the Bab). So his Deputy resolved to make for the castle of Maku, where the Bab was confined. On the Deputy’s arrival the Bab foretold to him his own (the Bab’s) approaching martyrdom and the cruel afflictions which were impending. At the same time the Bab directed him to return to Khurasan, adding that he should ‘go thither by way of Mazandaran, for there the doctrine had not yet been rightly preached.’ So the Deputy went first of all to Mazandaran, and there joined another eminent convert, best known by his Babi name Kuddus (sacred).
I pause here to notice how intimate were the relations between the two friends–the ‘Gate’s Gate’ and ‘Sacred.’ Originally the former was considered distinctly the greater man. People may have reasoned somewhat thus:–It was no doubt true that Kuddus had been privileged to accompany the Bab to Mecca, [Footnote: For the divergent tradition in Nicolas, see _AMB_, p. 206.] but was not the Bab’s Deputy the more consummate master of spiritual lore? [Footnote: _NH_, p. 43, cp. p. 404.]
It was at any rate the latter Hero of God who (according to one tradition) opened the eyes of the majority of inquirers to the truth. It is also said that on the morning after the meeting of the friends the chief seat was occupied by Kuddus, while the Gate’s Deputy stood humbly and reverentially before him. This is certainly true to the spirit of the brother-champions, one of whom was conspicuous for his humility, the other for his soaring spiritual ambition.
But let us return to the evangelistic journey. The first signs of the approach of Kuddus were a letter from him to the Bab’s Deputy (the letter is commonly called ‘The Eternal Witness’), together with a white robe [Footnote: White was the Babite colour. See _NH_, p. 189; _TN_, p. xxxi, n. 1.] and a turban. In the letter, it was announced that he and seventy other believers would shortly win the crown of martyrdom. This may possibly be true, not only because circumstantial details were added, but because the chief leaders of the Babis do really appear to have had extraordinary spiritual gifts, especially that of prophecy. One may ask, Did Kuddus also foresee the death of his friend? He did not tell him so in the letter, but he did direct him to leave Khurasan, in spite of the encyclical letter of the Bab, bidding believers concentrate, if possible, on Khurasan.
So, then, we see our Babi apostles and their followers, with changed route, proceeding to the province of Mazandaran, where Kuddus resided. On reaching Miyami they found about thirty believers ready to join them–the first-fruits of the preaching of the Kingdom. Unfortunately opposition was stirred up by the appearance of the apostles. There was an encounter with the populace, and the Babis were defeated. The Babis, however, went on steadily till they arrived at Badasht, much perturbed by the inauspicious news of the death of Muhammad Shah, 4th September 1848. We are told that the ‘Gate’s Gate’ had already foretold this event, [Footnote: _NH_, p. 45.] which involved increased harshness in the treatment of the Bab. We cannot greatly wonder that, according to the Babis, Muhammad Shah’s journey was to the infernal regions.
Another consequence of the Shah’s death was the calling of the Council of Badasht. It has been suggested that the true cause of the summoning of that assembly was anxiety for the Bab, and a desire to carry him off to a place of safety. But the more accepted view–that the subject before the Council was the relation of the Babis to the Islamic laws–is also the more probable. The abrogation of those laws is expressly taught by Kurratu’l ‘Ayn, according to Mirza Jani.
How many Babis took part in the Meeting? That depends on whether the ordinary Babis were welcomed to the Meeting or only the leaders. If the former were admitted, the number of Babis must have been considerable, for the ‘Gate’s Gate’ is said to have gathered a band of 230 men, and Kuddus a band of 300, many of them men of wealth and position, and yet ready to give the supreme proof of their absolute sincerity. The notice at the end of Mirza Jani’s account, which glances at the antinomian tendencies of some who attended the Meeting, seems to be in favour of a large estimate. Elsewhere Mirza Jani speaks of the ‘troubles of Badasht,’ at which the gallant Riza Khan performed ‘most valuable services.’ Nothing is said, however, of the part taken in the quieting of these troubles either by the ‘Gate’s Gate’ or by Kuddus. Greater troubles, however, were at hand; it is the beginning of the Mazandaran insurrection (A.D. 1848-1849).
The place of most interest in this exciting episode is the fortified tomb of Sheykh Tabarsi, twelve or fourteen miles south of Barfurush. The Babis under the ‘Gate’s Gate’ made this their headquarters, and we have abundant information, both Babite and Muslim, respecting their doings. The ‘Gate’s Gate’ preached to them every day, and warned them that their only safety lay in detachment from the world. He also (probably as _Bab_, ‘Ali Muhammad having assumed the rank of _Nukta_, Point) conferred new names (those of prophets and saints) on the worthiest of the Babis, [Footnote: This is a Muslim account. See _NH_, p. 303.] which suggests that this Hero of God had felt his way to the doctrine of the equality of the saints in the Divine Bosom. Of course, this great truth was very liable to misconstruction, just as much as when the having all things in common was perverted into the most objectionable kind of communism. [Footnote: _NH_, p. 55.]
‘Thus,’ the moralist remarks, ‘did they live happily together in content and gladness, free from all grief and care, as though resignation and contentment formed a part of their very nature.’
Of course, the new names were given with a full consciousness of the inwardness of names. There was a spirit behind each new name; the revival of a name by a divine representative meant the return of the spirit. Each Babi who received the name of a prophet or an Imam knew that his life was raised to a higher plane, and that he was to restore that heavenly Being to the present age. These re-named Babis needed no other recompense than that of being used in the Cause of God. They became capable of far higher things than before, and if within a short space of time the Bab, or his Deputy, was to conquer the whole world and bring it under the beneficent yoke of the Law of God, much miraculously heightened courage would be needed. I am therefore able to accept the Muslim authority’s statement. The conferring of new names was not to add fuel to human vanity, but sacramentally to heighten spiritual vitality.
Not all Babis, it is true, were capable of such insight. From the Babi account of the night-action, ordered on his arrival at Sheykh Tabarsi by Kuddus, we learn that some Babis, including those of Mazandaran, took the first opportunity of plundering the enemy’s camp. For this, the Deputy reproved them, but they persisted, and the whole army was punished (as we are told) by a wound dealt to Kuddus, which shattered one side of his face. [Footnote: _NH_, 68 _f_.] It was with reference to this that the Deputy said at last to his disfigured friend, ‘I can no longer bear to look upon the wound which mars your glorious visage. Suffer me, I pray you, to lay down my life this night, that I may be delivered alike from my shame and my anxiety.’ So there was another night-encounter, and the Deputy knew full well that it would be his last battle. And he ‘said to one who was beside him, “Mount behind me on my horse, and when I say, ‘Bear me to the Castle,’ turn back with all speed.” So now, overcome with faintness, he said, “Bear me to the Castle.” Thereupon his companion turned the horse’s head, and brought him back to the entrance of the Castle; and there he straightway yielded up his spirit to the Lord and Giver of life.’ Frail of form, but a gallant soldier and an impassioned lover of God, he combined qualities and characteristics which even in the spiritual aristocracy of Persia are seldom found united in the same person.
MULLA MUHAMMAD ‘ALI OF BARFURUSH
He was a man of Mazandaran, but was converted at Shiraz. He was one of the earliest to cast in his lot with God’s prophet. No sooner had he beheld and conversed with the Bab, than, ‘because of the purity of his heart, he at once believed without seeking further sign or proof.’ [Footnote: _NH_, p. 39.] After the Council of Badasht he received among the Babis the title of Jenab-i-Kuddus, i.e. ‘His Highness the Sacred,’ by which it was meant that he was, for this age, what the sacred prophet Muhammad was to an earlier age, or, speaking loosely, that holy prophet’s ‘re-incarnation.’ It is interesting to learn that that heroic woman Kurratu’l ‘Ayn was regarded as the ‘reincarnation’ of Fatima, daughter of the prophet Muhammad. Certainly Kuddus had enormous influence with small as well as great. Certainly, too, both he and his greatest friend had prophetic gifts and a sense of oneness with God, which go far to excuse the extravagant form of their claims, or at least the claims of others on their behalf. Extravagance of form, at any rate, lies on the surface of their titles. There must be a large element of fancy when Muhammad ‘Ali of Barfurush (i.e. Kuddus) claims to be a ‘return’ of the great Arabian prophet and even to be the Ka’im (i.e. the Imam Mahdi), who was expected to bring in the Kingdom of Righteousness. There is no exaggeration, however, in saying that, together with the Bab, Kuddus ranked highest (or equal to the highest) in the new community. [Footnote: In _NH_, pp. 359, 399, Kuddus is represented as the ‘last to enter,’ and as ‘the name of the last.’]
We call him here Kuddus, i.e. holy, sacred, because this was his Babi name, and his Babi period was to him the only part of his life that was worth living. True, in his youth, he (like ‘the Deputy’) had Sheykhite instruction, [Footnote: We may infer this from the inclusion of both persons in the list of those who went through the same spiritual exercises in the sacred city of Kufa (_NH_, p. 33).] but as long as he was nourished on this imperfect food, he must have had the sense of not having yet ‘attained.’ He was also like his colleague ‘the Deputy’ in that he came to know the Bab before the young Shirazite made his Arabian pilgrimage; indeed (according to our best information), it was he who was selected by ‘Ali Muhammad to accompany him to the Arabian Holy City, the ‘Gate’s Gate,’ we may suppose, being too important as a representative of the ‘Gate’ to be removed from Persia. The Bab, however, who had a gift of insight, was doubtless more than satisfied with his compensation. For Kuddus had a noble soul.
The name Kuddus is somewhat difficult to account for, and yet it must be understood, because it involves a claim. It must be observed, then, first of all, that, as the early Babis believed, the last of the twelve Imams (cp. the Zoroastrian Amshaspands) still lived on invisibly (like the Jewish Messiah), and communicated with his followers by means of personages called Babs (i.e. Gates), whom the Imam had appointed as intermediaries. As the time for a new divine manifestation approached, these personages ‘returned,’ i.e. were virtually re-incarnated, in order to prepare mankind for the coming great epiphany. Such a ‘Gate’ in the Christian cycle would be John the Baptist; [Footnote: John the Baptist, to the Israelites, was the last Imam before Jesus.] such ‘Gates’ in the Muhammadan cycle would be Waraka ibn Nawfal and the other Hanifs, and in the Babi cycle Sheikh Ahmad of Ahsa, Sayyid Kazim of Resht, Muhammad ‘Ali of Shiraz, and Mulla Huseyn of Bushraweyh, who was followed by his brother Muhammad Hasan. ‘Ali Muhammad, however, whom we call the Bab, did not always put forward exactly the same claim. Sometimes he assumed the title of Zikr [Footnote: And when God wills He will explain by the mediation of His Zikr (the Bab) that which has been decreed for him in the Book.–Early Letter to the Bab’s uncle (_AMB_, p. 223).] (i.e. Commemoration, or perhaps Reminder); sometimes (p. 81) that of Nukta, i.e. Point (= Climax of prophetic revelation). Humility may have prevented him from always assuming the highest of these titles (Nukta). He knew that there was one whose fervent energy enabled him to fight for the Cause as he himself could not. He can hardly, I think, have gone so far as to ‘abdicate’ in favour of Kuddus, or as to affirm with Mirza Jani [Footnote: _NH_, p. 336.] that ‘in this (the present) cycle the original “Point” was Hazrat-i-Kuddus.’ He may, however, have sanctioned Muhammad ‘Ali’s assumption of the title of ‘Point’ on some particular occasion, such as the Assembly of Badasht. It is true, Muhammad ‘Ali’s usual title was Kuddus, but Muhammad ‘Ali himself, we know, considered this title to imply that in himself there was virtually a ‘return’ of the great prophet Muhammad. [Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 359.] We may also, perhaps, believe on the authority of Mirza Jani that the Bab ‘refrained from writing or circulating anything during the period of the “Manifestation” of Hazrat-i-Kuddus, and only after his death claimed to be himself the Ka’im.’ [Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 368.] It is further stated that, in the list of the nineteen (?) Letters of the Living, Kuddus stood next to the Bab himself, and the reader has seen how, in the defence of Tabarsi, Kuddus took precedence even of that gallant knight, known among the Babis as ‘the Gate’s Gate.’
On the whole, there can hardly be a doubt that Muhammad ‘Ali, called Kuddus, was (as I have suggested already) the most conspicuous Babi next to the Bab 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 Babis 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 Kuddus, 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) _tumans_ on condition that Jenab-i-Kuddus should be surrendered unconditionally into his hands. To this arrangement the Prince, whether moved by the arguments or the _tumans_ of the Sa’idu’l-‘Ulama, eventually consented, and Jenab-i-Kuddus 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 Jenab-i-Kuddus, 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 Babis relate (for Subh-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 Babis 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 Babi historian relates, had Jenab-i-Kuddus 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 Kuddus be duly honoured.
SAYYID YAHYA DARABI
Sayyid Yahya 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 Bab that Muhammad Shah and his minister thought it desirable to send an expert to inquire into the new Teacher’s claims. They selected Sayyid Yahya, ‘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 Bab, 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 Bab at first treated the commissioner rather cavalierly. A Babi theologian was told off to educate him; the Bab himself did not grant him an audience. To this Babi representative Yahya confided that he had some inclination towards Babism, and that a miracle performed by the Bab in his presence would make assurance doubly sure. To this the Babi 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 Bab and his followers were constantly performing? [Footnote: Accounts of miracles were spiritualized by the Bab.]
It was already much to have read the inspired “signs,” or verses, communicated by the Bab, 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 mullas’–arrogance,–and the Bab’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 Bab 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 Bab, 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 Bab then wrote on the spot a commentary on the 108th Sura of the Kur’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 Bab for his glorious model, and obtained the martyr’s crown in the second Niriz war.
MULLA MUHAMMAD ‘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[i]d_ (‘an authority on hard religious questions’) at Zanjan, the capital of the small province of Khamsa, which lay between Irak and Azarbaijan. Muslim writers affirm that in his functions of _mujtahad_ 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 mulla was anxiously looking out for the return of his messenger Mash-hadi Ahmad from Shiraz with authentic news of the reported Divine Manifestation. When the messenger returned he found Mulla Muhammad ‘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 Imam appears.
The conversion [Footnote: For Muhammad ‘Ali’s own account, see Nicolas, _AMB_, pp. 349, 350.] of Mulla Muhammad ‘Ali had important results, though the rescue of the Bab was not permitted to be one of them. The same night on which the Bab arrived at Zanjan on his way to Tabriz and Maku, Mulla Muhammad ‘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 Muhammad Shah, and the accession of Nasiru’d-din Shah. The new Shah received him graciously, and expressed satisfaction that the Mulla had not left Tihran without leave. He now gave him express permission to return to Zanjan, which accordingly the Mulla lost no time in doing. The hostile mullas, however, were stirred up to jealousy because of the great popularity which Muhammad ‘Ali had acquired. Such was the beginning of the famous episode of Zanjan.
KURRATU’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 Kurratu’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 Mulla Salih, an eminent jurist, who (as we shall see) eventually married her to her cousin Mulla Muhammad. Her father-in-law and uncle was also a mulla, and also called Muhammad; he was conspicuous for his bitter hostility to the Sheykhi and the Babi sects. Kurratu’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 Bab, 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 Bab. 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 Bab 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 Bab, 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-Bab 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. Kurratu’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 _Kibla_ 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 Muhammad. 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 Kurratu’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 Kazim) 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 Mulla Huseyn of Bushraweyh which brought her rare gifts to the knowledge of the Bab. Huseyn himself was not commissioned to offer Kurratu’l ‘Ayn as a member of the new society, but the Bab ‘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 Bab, 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 Kurratu’l ‘Ayn had gone thither chiefly to make the acquaintance of the great Sheykhite teacher, Sayyid Kazim.
Great was the scandal of both clergy and laity when this fateful step of Kurratu’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 Subh-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 Bahaa and Kurratu’l ‘Ayn, I think it safer to follow the family of Baha, 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 Irak; the latter, the humiliated representative of Ecbatana). Of course, Kurratu’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 Kurratu’l ‘Ayn, and wrote a letter to the Bab, complaining of her. The Bab 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 Bab’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 (Muhammad 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 Kurratu’l ‘Ayn that the maiden was married to Mulla Muhammad, the eldest son of Haji Mulla Muhammad Taki. 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 Muhammad Hamami, who had been charged with this delicate mission by the family.
‘I conducted Kurratu’l ‘Ayn into the house of her father, to whom I rendered an account of what I had seen. Haji Mulla Taki, 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 Bab and to load him with insults. Then Kurratu’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 Babi and Bahai leaders. But this particular anecdote respecting our heroine is (may I not say?) very improbable. To curse the Bab 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 Mulla Muhammad. True, this could not last long, and the murder of Taki in the mosque of Kazwin must have precipitated Kurratu’l ‘Ayn’s resolution to divorce her husband (as by Muhammadan 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 Bab, 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 Babis, 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 Babis 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 Muhammad 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 Bab, 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 Ka’im appeared all things would be renewed. But the Ka’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 Babi leaders who were present, such as Kuddus and Baha-‘ullah, the one against, the other in favour of social reforms.
It is said, in one form of tradition, that Kurratu’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. Kurratu’l ‘Ayn was in Mazandaran, and so was also Baha’ullah. The latter was taken ill, and Kurratu’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 Kurratu’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 Kurratu’l ‘Ayn’s teaching was no one less than the heroic Kuddus, 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 Babis.
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 Kurratu’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 Muhammadans, have become through our acceptance of the Bab, 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 Babis led by her great friend Kuddus. On their arrival in Nur, however, they separated, she herself staying in that district. There she met Subh-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, Mahmud 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 soirees. But she herself had a bridegroom, and longed to see him. It was the attempt by a Babi 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 Kurratu’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 Kurratu’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 _enderun_, but soon returned, accompanied by Kurratu’l ‘Ayn, and gave me a folded paper, saying to me, “You will conduct this woman to the garden of Ilkhani, and will give her into the charge of Aziz Khan the Serdar.”
‘A horse was brought, and I helped Kurratu’l ‘Ayn to mount. I was afraid, however, that the Babis 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 Muhammad. 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 Kurratu’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 Kurratu’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 Kurratu’l ‘Ayn exercised a fascination even upon her gaoler. One morning, returning from the royal camp, he went into the _enderun,_ 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 Kalantar; “it is a request from the Prime Minister. You will be conducted to Niyavaran, and asked, ‘Kurratu’l ‘Ayn, are you a Babi?’ 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 Babi?’ 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 Mahmud 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 meches allumees flambantes fichees dans les blessures.’
Looking back on the short career of Kurratu’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 Kuddus, 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 Kurratu’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 Kurratu’l ‘Ayn was one of those who had pressed forward into the innermost sanctum of the Bab’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 Kurratu’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 Haifa 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 HUSEYN ALI OF NUR)
According to Count Gobineau, the martyrdom of the Bab at Tabriz was followed by a Council of the Babi 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 Bab, 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 Huseyn ‘Ali, titled as Baha-‘ullah, and his half-brother, Mirza Yahya, otherwise known as Subh-i-Ezel, also Jenab-i-‘Azim, Jenab-i-Bazir, Mirza Asadu’llah [Footnote: Gobineau, however, thinks that Mirza Asadu’llah was not present at the (assumed) Council.] (Dayyan), Sayyid Yahya (of Darab), and others similarly honoured by the original Bab. 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 Yahya (of Nur), better known as Subh-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 Subh-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 Subh-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 Subh-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 Behiah Khanum, sister of Abbas Effendi Abdul Baha, that Subh-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 Babi community, and that Subh-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.
Huseyn ‘Ali was half-brother of Yahya, 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 Yahya. But one can hardly venture to credit this. See _TN_, p. 373 n. 1.] Both embraced the Babi faith, and were called respectively Baha-‘ullah (Splendour of God) and Subh-i-Ezel (Dawn of Eternity). Their father was known as Buzurg (or, Abbas), of the district of Nur in Mazandaran. The family was distinguished; Mirza Buzurg held a high post under government.
Like many men of his class, Mirza Huseyn ‘Ali had a turn for mysticism, but combined this–like so many other mystics–with much practical ability. He became a Babi 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–Kurratu’l ‘Ayn–he defended the cause of progress and averted a fiasco. The Bab–‘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 Bab was ‘taken up into heaven’ in 1850 upon which (according to a Tradition which I am compelled to reject) Subh-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 Babi community was too much divided to yield a new Head a frank and loyal obedience. Many Babis rose against the government, and one even made an attempt on the Shah’s life. Baha-‘ullah (to use the name given to Huseyn ‘Ali of Nur by the Bab) 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 Babi 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 Babi 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 Subh-i-Ezel.
The strife went on increasing in bitterness, until at length it became clear that either Baha-‘ullah or Subh-i-Ezel must for a time vanish from the scene. For Subh-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 Babis 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 Babi, formerly a pupil of Kurratu’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 Babis 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 Babi 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 Babi community. A further contribution is made by the Ezeli historian, who states that Subh-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 Babi 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 Babis 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 Muhammadan 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 Subh-i-Ezel) by the machinations of Subh-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 Subh-i-Ezel, but to those of Zabih, 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 Subh-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 Subh-i-Ezel. It is, I fear, certain that Baha-‘ullah is correct, and that Subh-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 Subh-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…. Subh-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 Subh-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 Subh-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 Subh-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 Subh-i-Ezel whose life was threatened. ‘It was arranged that Muhammad Ali the barber should cut his throat while shaving him in the bath. On the approach of the barber, however, Subh-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 Huseyn ‘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, Subh-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 Subh-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 Subh-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 Subh-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 Bab 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 Babi, but first of all to Subh-i-Ezel. He assigned to one of his followers the duty of taking it to Subh-i-Ezel, reading it to him, and returning with Subh-i-Ezel’s reply. When Subh-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 Subh-i-Ezel was reported to the Blessed Perfection, the latter directed that every Babi 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 Babis in Adrianople, with the exception of Subh-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 Bab had foretold. The Babis 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 Babis 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 Haifa, 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 Subh-i-Ezel and Muhammad 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.
PART III
BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL (continued)
SUBH-I-EZEL (OR AZAL)
‘He is a scion of one of the noble families of Persia. His father was accomplished, wealthy, and much respected, and enjoyed the high consideration of the King and nobles of Persia. His mother died when he was a child. His father thereupon entrusted him to the keeping of his honourable spouse, [Footnote: _NH_, pp. 374 _ff_.] saying, “Do you take care of this child, and see that your handmaids attend to him properly.”‘ This ‘honourable spouse’ is, in the context, called ‘the concubine’–apparently a second wife is meant. At any rate her son was no less honoured than if he had been the son of the chief or favourite wife; he was named Huseyn ‘Ali, and his young half-brother was named Yahya.
According to Mirza Jani, the account which the history contains was given him by Mirza Huseyn ‘Ali’s half-brother, who represents that the later kindness of his own mother to the young child Yahya was owing to a prophetic dream which she had, and in which the Apostle of God and the King of Saintship figured as the child’s protectors. Evidently this part of the narrative is imaginative, and possibly it is the work of Mirza Jani. But there is no reason to doubt that what follows is based more or less on facts derived from Mirza Huseyn ‘Ali. ‘I busied myself,’ says the latter, ‘with the instruction of [Yahya]. The signs of his natural excellence and goodness of disposition were apparent in the mirror of his being. He ever loved gravity of demeanour, silence, courtesy, and modesty, avoiding the society of other children and their behaviour. I did not, however, know that he would become the possessor of [so high] a station. He studied Persian, but made little progress in Arabic. He wrote a good _nasta’lik_ hand, and was very fond of the poems of the mystics.’ The facts may be decked out.
Mirza Jani himself only met Mirza Yahya once. He describes him as ‘an amiable child.’ [Footnote: _NH_, p. 376.] Certainly, we can easily suppose that he retained a childlike appearance longer than most, for he early became a mystic, and a mystic is one whose countenance is radiant with joy. This, indeed, may be the reason why they conferred on him the name, ‘Dawn of Eternity.’ He never saw the Bab, but when his ‘honoured brother’ would read the Master’s writings in a circle of friends, Mirza Yahya used to listen, and conceived a fervent love for the inspired author. At the time of the Manifestation of the Bab he was only fourteen, but very soon after, he, like his brother, took the momentous step of becoming a Babi, and resolved to obey the order of the Bab for his followers to proceed to Khurasan. So, ‘having made for himself a knapsack, and got together a few necessaries,’ he set out as an evangelist, ‘with perfect trust in his Beloved,’ somewhat as S. Teresa started from her home at Avila to evangelize the Moors. ‘But when his brother was informed of this, he sent and prevented him.’ [Footnote: _NH_, p. 44.]
Compensation, however, was not denied him. Some time after, Yahya made an expedition in company with some of his relations, making congenial friends, and helping to strengthen the Babi cause. He was now not far off the turning-point in his life.
Not long after occurred a lamentable set-back to the cause–the persecution and massacre which followed the attempt on the Shah’s life by an unruly Babi in August 1852. He himself was in great danger, but felt no call to martyrdom, and set out in the disguise of a dervish [Footnote: _TN_, p. 374.] in the same direction as his elder brother, reaching Baghdad somewhat later. There, among the Babi refugees, he found new and old friends who adhered closely to the original type of theosophic doctrine; an increasing majority, however, were fascinated by a much more progressive teacher. The Ezelite history known as _Hasht Bihisht_ (‘Eight Paradises’) gives the names of the chief members of the former school, [Footnote: _TN_, p. 356.] including Sayyid Muhammad of Isfahan, and states that, perceiving Mirza Huseyn ‘Ali’s innovating tendencies, they addressed to him a vigorous remonstrance.
It was, in fact, an ecclesiastical crisis, as the authors of the _Traveller’s Narrative_, as well as the Ezelite historian, distinctly recognize. Baha-‘ullah, too,–to give him his nobler name–endorses this view when he says, ‘Then, in secret, the Sayyid of Isfahan circumvented him, and together they did that which caused a great calamity.’ It was, therefore, indeed a crisis, and the chief blame is laid on Sayyid Muhammad. [Footnote: _TN_, p. 94. ‘He (i.e. Sayyid Muhammad) commenced a secret intrigue, and fell to tempting Mirza Yahya, saying, “The fame of this sect hath risen high in the world; neither dread nor danger remaineth, nor is there any fear or need for caution before you.”‘] Subh-i-Ezel is still a mere youth and easily imposed upon; the Sayyid ought to have known better than to tempt him, for a stronger teacher was needed in this period of disorganization than the Ezelites could produce. Mirza Yahya was not up to the leadership, nor was he entitled to place himself above his much older brother, especially when he was bound by the tie of gratitude. ‘Remember,’ says Baha-‘ullah, ‘the favour of thy master, when we brought thee up during the nights and days for the service of the Religion. Fear God, and be of those who repent. Grant that thine affair is dubious unto me; is it dubious unto thyself?’ How gentle is this fraternal reproof!
There is but little more to relate that has not been already told in the sketch of Baha-‘ullah. He was, at any rate, harmless in Cyprus, and had no further opportunity for religious assassination. One cannot help regretting that his sun went down so stormily. I return therefore to the question of the honorific names of Mirza Yahya, after which I shall refer to the singular point of the crystal coffin and to the moral character of Subh-i-Ezel.
Among the names and titles which the Ezelite book called _Eight Paradises_ declares to have been conferred by the Bab on his young disciple are Subh-i-Ezel (or Azal), Baha-‘ullah, and the strange title _Mir’at_ (Mirror). The two former–‘Dawn of Eternity’ and ‘Splendour of God’–are referred to elsewhere. The third properly belongs to a class of persons inferior to the ‘Letters of the Living,’ and to this class Subh-i-Ezel, by his own admission, belongs. The title Mir’at, therefore, involves some limitation of Ezel’s dignity, and its object apparently is to prevent Subh-i-Ezel from claiming to be ‘He whom God will make manifest.’ That is, the Bab in his last years had an intuition that the eternal day would not be ushered into existence by this impractical nature.
How, then, came the Bab to give Mirza Yahya such a name? Purely from cabbalistic reasons which do not concern us here. It was a mistake which only shows that the Bab was not infallible. Mirza Yahya had no great part to play in the ushering-in of the new cycle. Elsewhere the Bab is at the pains to recommend the elder of the half-brothers to attend to his junior’s writing and spelling. [Footnote: The Tablets (letters) are in the British Museum collection, in four books of Ezel, who wrote the copies at Baha-‘ullah’s dictation. The references are–I., No. 6251, p. 162; II., No. 5111, p. 253, to which copy Rizwan Ali, son of Ezel, has appended ‘The brother of the Fruit’ (Ezel); III., No. 6254, p. 236; IV., No. 6257, p. 158.] Now it was, of course, worth while to educate Mirza Yahya, whose feebleness in Arabic grammar was scandalous, but can we imagine Baha-‘ullah and all the other ‘letters’ being passed over by the Bab in favour of such an imperfectly educated young man? The so-called ‘nomination’ is a bare-faced forgery.
The statement of Gobineau that Subh-i-Ezel belonged to the ‘Letters of the Living’ of the First Unity is untrustworthy. [Footnote: _Fils du Loup_, p. 156 n.3.] M. Hippolyte Dreyfus has favoured me with a reliable list of the members of the First Unity, which I have given elsewhere, and which does not contain the name of Mirza Yahya. At the same time, the Bab may have admitted him into the second hierarchy of 18[19]. [Footnote: _Fils du Loup_, p. 163 n.1. ‘The eighteen Letters of Life had each a _mirror_ which represented it, and which was called upon to replace it if it disappeared. There are, therefore, 18 Letters of Life and 18 Mirrors, which constituted two distinct Unities.’] Considering that Mirza Yahya was regarded as a ‘return’ of Kuddus, some preferment may conceivably have found its way to him. It was no contemptible distinction to be a member of the Second Unity, i.e. to be one of those who reflected the excellences of the older ‘Letters of the Living.’ As a member of the Second Unity and the accepted reflexion of Kuddus, Subh-i-Ezel may have been thought of as a director of affairs together with the obviously marked-out agent (_wali_), Baha-‘ullah. We are not told, however, that Mirza Yahya assumed either the title of Bab (Gate) or that of Nukta (Point). [Footnote: Others, however, give it him (_TN_, p. 353).]
I must confess that Subh-i-Ezel’s account of the fortune of the Bab’s relics appears to me, as well as to M. Nicolas, [Footnote: _AMB_, p. 380 n.] unsatisfactory and (in one point) contradictory. How, for instance, did he get possession of the relics? And, is there any independent evidence for the intermingling of the parts of the two corpses? How did he procure a crystal coffin to receive the relics? How comes it that there were Bahaites at the time of the Bab’s death, and how was Subh-i-Ezel able to conceal the crystal coffin, etc., from his brother Baha-‘ullah?
Evidently Subh-i-Ezel has changed greatly since the time when both the brothers (half-brothers) were devoted, heart and soul, to the service of the Bab. It is this moral transformation which vitiates Subh-i-Ezel’s assertions. Can any one doubt this? Surely the best authorities are agreed that the sense of historical truth is very deficient among the Persians. Now Subh-i-Ezel was in some respects a typical Persian; that is how I would explain his deviations from strict truth. It may be added that the detail of the crystal coffin can be accounted for. In the Arabic Bayan, among other injunctions concerning the dead, [Footnote: _Le Beyan Arabi_ (Nicolas), p. 252; similarly, p. 54.] it is said: ‘As for your dead, inter them in crystal, or in cut and polished stones. It is possible that this may become a peace for your heart.’ This precept suggested to Subh-i-Ezel his extraordinary statement.
Subh-i-Ezel had an imaginative and possibly a partly mystic nature. As a Manifestation of God he may have thought himself entitled to remove harmful people, even his own brother. He did not ask himself whether he might not be in error in attaching such importance to his own personality, and whether any vision could override plain morality. He _was_ mistaken, and I hold that the Bab was mistaken in appointing (if he really did so) Subh-i-Ezel as a nominal head of the Babis when the true, although temporary vice-gerent was Baha-‘ullah. For Subh-i-Ezel was a consummate failure; it is too plain that the Bab did not always, like Jesus and like the Buddha, know what was in man.
SUBSEQUENT DISCOVERIES
The historical work of the Ezelite party, called _The Eight Paradises_, makes Ezel nineteen years of age when he came forward as an expounder of religious mysteries and wrote letters to the Bab. On receiving the first letter, we are told that the Bab (or, as we should rather now call him, the Point) instantly prostrated himself in thankfulness, testifying that he was a mighty Luminary, and spoke by the Self-shining Light, by revelation. Imprisoned as he was at Maku, the Point of Knowledge could not take counsel with all his fellow-workers or disciples, but he sent the writings of this brilliant novice (if he really was so brilliant) to each of the ‘Letters of the Living,’ and to the chief believers, at the same time conferring on him a number of titles, including Subh-i-Ezel (‘Dawn of Eternity’) and Baha-‘ullah (‘Splendour of God ‘).
If this statement be correct, we may plausibly hold with Professor E. G. Browne that Subh-i-Ezel (Mirza Yahya) was advanced to the rank of a ‘Letter of the Living,’ and even that he was nominated by the Point as his successor. It has also become much more credible that the thoughts of the Point were so much centred on Subh-i-Ezel that, as Ezelites say, twenty thousand of the words of the Bayan refer to Ezel, and that a number of precious relics of the Point were entrusted to his would-be successor.
But how can we venture to say that it is correct? Since Professor Browne wrote, much work has been done on the (real or supposed) written remains of Subh-i-Ezel, and the result has been (I think) that the literary reputation of Subh-i-Ezel is a mere bubble. It is true, the Bab himself was not masterly, but the confusion of ideas and language in Ezel’s literary records beggars all comparison. A friend of mine confirms this view which I had already derived from Mirza Ali Akbar. He tells me that he has acquired a number of letters mostly purporting to be by Subh-i-Ezel. There is also, however, a letter of Baha-‘ullah relative to these letters, addressed to the Muhammadan mulla, the original possessor of the letters. In this letter Baha-‘ullah repeats again and again the warning: ‘When you consider and reflect on these letters, you will understand who is in truth the writer.’
I greatly fear that Lord Curzon’s description of Persian untruthfulness may be illustrated by the career of the Great Pretender. The Ezelites must, of course, share the blame with their leader, and not the least of their disgraceful misstatements is the assertion that the Bab assigned the name Baha-‘ullah to the younger of the two half-brothers, and that Ezel had also the [non-existent] dignity of ‘Second Point.’
This being so, I am strongly of opinion that so far from confirming the Ezelite view of subsequent events, the Ezelite account of Subh-i-Ezel’s first appearance appreciably weakens it. Something, however, we may admit as not improbable. It may well have gratified the Bab that two representatives of an important family in Mazandaran had taken up his cause, and the character of these new adherents may have been more congenial to him than the more martial character of Kuddus.
DAYYAN
We have already been introduced to a prominent Babi, variously called Asadu’llah and Dayyan; he was also a member of the hierarchy called ‘the Letters of the Living.’ He may have been a man of capacity, but I must confess that the event to which his name is specially attached indisposes me to admit that he took part in the so-called ‘Council of Tihran.’ To me he appears to have been one of those Babis who, even in critical periods, acted without consultation with others, and who imagined that they were absolutely infallible. Certainly he could never have promoted the claims of Subh-i-Ezel, whose defects he had learned from that personage’s secretary. He was well aware that Ezel was ambitious, and he thought that he had a better claim to the supremacy himself.
It would have been wiser, however, to have consulted Baha-‘ullah, and to have remembered the prophecy of the Bab, in which it was expressly foretold that Dayyan would believe on ‘Him whom God would make manifest.’ Subh-i-Ezel was not slow to detect the weak point in Dayyan’s position, who could not be at once the Expected One and a believer in the Expected One. [Footnote: See Ezel’s own words in _Mustaikaz_, p. 6.] Dayyan, however, made up as well as he could for his inconsistency. He went at last to Baha-‘ullah, and discussed the matter in all its bearings with him. The result was that with great public spirit he retired in favour of Baha.
The news was soon spread abroad; it was not helpful to the cause of Ezel. Some of the Ezelites, who had read the Christian Gospels (translated by Henry Martyn), surnamed Dayyan ‘the Judas Iscariot of this people.’ [Footnote: _TN_, p. 357.] Others, instigated probably by their leaders, thought it best to nip the flower in the bud. So by Ezelite hands Dayyan was foully slain.
It was on this occasion that Ezel vented curses and abusive language on his rival. The proof is only too cogent, though the two books which contain it are not as yet printed. [Footnote: They are both in the British Museum, and are called respectively _Mustaikaz_ (No. 6256) and _Asar-el-Ghulam_ (No. 6256). I am indebted for facts (partly) and references to MSS. to my friend Mirza ‘Ali Akbar.]
MIRZA HAYDAR ‘ALI
A delightful Bahai disciple–the _Fra Angelico_ of the brethren, as we may call him,–Mirza Haydar ‘Ali was especially interesting to younger visitors to Abdul Baha. One of them writes thus: ‘He was a venerable, smiling old man, with long Persian robes and a spotlessly white turban. As we had travelled along, the Persian ladies had laughingly spoken of a beautiful young man, who, they were sure, would captivate me. They would make a match between us, they said.
‘This now proved to be the aged Mirza, whose kindly, humorous old eyes twinkled merrily as he heard what they had prophesied, and joined in their laughter. They did not cover before him. Afterwards the ladies told me something of his history. He was imprisoned for fourteen years during the time of the persecution. At one time, when he was being transferred from one prison to another, many days’ journey away, he and his fellow-prisoner, another Bahai, were carried on donkeys, head downwards, with their feet and hands secured. Haydar ‘Ali laughed and sang gaily. So they beat him unmercifully, and said, “Now, will you sing?” But he answered them that he was more glad than before, since he had been given the pleasure of enduring something for the sake of God.
‘He never married, and in Akka was one of the most constant and loved companions of Baha-‘ullah. I remarked upon his cheerful appearance, and added, “But all you Bahais look happy.” Mirza Haydar ‘Ali said: “Sometimes we have surface troubles, but that cannot touch our happiness. The heart of those who belong to the Malekoot (Kingdom of God) is like the sea: when the wind is rough it troubles the surface of the water, but two metres down there is perfect calm and clearness.”‘
The preceding passage is by Miss E. S. Stevens (_Fortnightly Review_, June 1911). A friend, who has also been a guest in Abdul Baha’s house, tells me that Haydar ‘Ali is known at Akka as ‘the Angel.’
ABDUL BAHA (ABBAS EFFENDI)
The eldest son of Baha-‘ullah is our dear and venerated Abdul Baha (‘Servant of the Splendour’), otherwise known as Abbas Effendi. He was born at the midnight following the day on which the Bab made his declaration. He was therefore eight years old, and the sister who writes her recollections five, when, in August 1852, an attempt was made on the life of the Shah by a young Babi, disaffected to the ruling dynasty. The future Abdul Baha was already conspicuous for his fearlessness and for his passionate devotion to his father. The _gamins_ of Tihran (Teheran) might visit him as he paced to and fro, waiting for news from his father, but he did not mind–not he. One day his sister–a mere child–was returning home under her mother’s care, and found him surrounded by a band of boys. ‘He was standing in their midst as straight as an arrow–a little fellow, the youngest and smallest of the group–firmly but quietly _commanding_ them not to lay their hands upon him, which, strange to say, they seemed unable to do.’ [Footnote: Phelps, pp. 14, 15.]
This love to his father was strikingly shown during the absence of Baha-‘ullah in the mountains, when this affectionate youth fell a prey to inconsolable paroxysms of grief. [Footnote: Ibid. p. 20.] At a later time–on the journey from Baghdad to Constantinople–Abdul Baha seemed to constitute himself the special attendant of his father. ‘In order to get a little rest, he adopted the plan of riding swiftly a considerable distance ahead of the caravan, when, dismounting and causing his horse to lie down, he would throw himself on the ground and place his head on his horse’s neck. So he would sleep until the cavalcade came up, when his horse would awake him by a kick, and he would remount.’ [Footnote: Phelps, pp. 31, 32.]
In fact, in his youth he was fond of riding, and there was a time when he thought that he would like hunting, but ‘when I saw them killing birds and animals, I thought that this could not be right. Then it occurred to me that better than hunting for animals, to kill them, was hunting for the souls of men to bring them to God. I then resolved that I would be a hunter of this sort. This was my first and last experience in the chase.’
‘A seeker of the souls of men.’ This is, indeed, a good description of both father and son. Neither the one nor the other had much of what we call technical education, but both understood how to cast a spell on the soul, awakening its dormant powers. Abdul Baha had the courage to frequent the mosques and argue with the mullas; he used to be called ‘the Master’ _par excellence_, and the governor of Adrianople became his friend, and proved his friendship in the difficult negotiations connected with the removal of the Bahaites to Akka. [Footnote: Ibid. p. 20, n.2.]
But no one was such a friend to the unfortunate Bahaites as Abdul Baha. The conditions under which they lived on their arrival at Akka were so unsanitary that ‘every one in our company fell sick excepting my brother, my mother, an aunt, and two others of the believers.’ [Footnote: Phelps, pp. 47-51.] Happily Abdul Baha had in his baggage some quinine and bismuth. With these drugs, and his tireless nursing, he brought the rest through, but then collapsed himself. He was seized with dysentery, and was long in great danger. But even in this prison-city he was to find a friend. A Turkish officer had been struck by his unselfish conduct, and when he saw Abdul Baha brought so low he pleaded with the governor that a _hakim_ might be called in. This was permitted with the happiest result.
It was now the physician’s turn. In visiting his patient he became so fond of him that he asked if there was nothing else he could do. Abdul Baha begged him to take a tablet (i.e. letter) to the Persian believers. Thus for two years an intercourse with the friends outside was maintained; the physician prudently concealed the tablets in the lining of his hat!
It ought to be mentioned here that the hardships of the prison-city were mitigated later. During the years 1895-1900 he was often allowed to visit Haifa. Observing this the American friends built Baha-‘ullah a house in Haifa, and this led to a hardening of the conditions of his life. But upon the whole we may apply to him those ancient words:
‘He maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him.’
In 1914 Abdul Baha visited Akka, living in the house of Baha-‘ullah, near where his father was brought with wife and children and seventy Persian exiles forty-six years ago. But his permanent home is in Haifa, a very simple home where, however, the call for hospitality never passes unheeded. ‘From sunrise often till midnight he works, in spite of broken health, never sparing himself if there is a wrong to be righted, or a suffering to be relieved. His is indeed a selfless life, and to have passed beneath its shadow is to have been won for ever to the Cause of Peace and Love.’
Since 1908 Abdul Baha has been free to travel; the political victory of the Young Turks opened the doors of Akka, as well as of other political ‘houses of restraint.’ America, England, France, and even Germany have shared the benefit of his presence. It may be that he spoke too much; it may be that even in England his most important work was done in personal interviews. Educationally valuable, therefore, as _Some Answered Questions_ (1908) may be, we cannot attach so much importance to it as to the story–the true story–of the converted Muhammadan. When at home, Abdul Baha only discusses Western problems with visitors from the West.
The Legacy left by Baha-‘ullah to his son was, it must be admitted, an onerous educational duty. It was contested by Muhammad Effendi–by means which remind us unpleasantly of Subh-i-Ezel, but unsuccessfully. Undeniably Baha-‘ullah conferred on Abbas Effendi (Abdul Baha) the title of Centre of the Covenant, with the special duty annexed of the ‘Expounder of the Book.’ I venture to hope that this ‘expounding’ may not, in the future, extend to philosophic, philological, scientific, and exegetical details. Just as Jesus made mistakes about Moses and David, so may Baha-‘ullah and Abdul Baha fall into error on secular problems, among which it is obvious to include Biblical and Kuranic exegesis.
It appears to me that the essence of Bahaism is not dogma, but the unification of peoples and religions in a certain high-minded and far from unpractical mysticism. I think that Abdul Baha is just as much devoted to mystic and yet practical religion as his father. In one of the reports of his talks or monologues he is introduced as saying:
‘A moth loves the light though his wings are burnt. Though his wings are singed, he throws himself against the flame. He does not love the light because it has conferred some benefits upon him. Therefore he hovers round the light, though he sacrifice his wings. This is the highest degree of love. Without this abandonment, this ecstasy, love is imperfect. The Lover of God loves Him for Himself, not for his own sake.’–From ‘Abbas Effendi,’ by E. S. Stevens, _Fortnightly Review_, June 1911, p. 1067.
This is, surely, the essence of mysticism. As a characteristic of the Church of ‘the Abha’ it goes back, as we have seen, to the Bab. As a characteristic of the Brotherhood of the ‘New Dispensation’ it is plainly set forth by Keshab Chandra Sen. It is also Christian, and goes back to Paul and John. This is the hidden wisdom–the pearl of great price.
PART IV
BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL; AMBASSADOR TO HUMANITY
AMBASSADOR TO HUMANITY
After the loss of his father the greatest trouble which befell the authorized successor was the attempt made independently by Subh-i-Ezel and the half-brother of Abdul Baha, Mirza Muhammad ‘Ali, to produce a schism in the community at Akka. Some little success was obtained by the latter, who did not shrink from the manipulation of written documents. Badi-‘ullah, another half-brother, was for a time seduced by these dishonest proceedings, but has since made a full confession of his error (see _Star of the West_).
It is indeed difficult to imagine how an intimate of the saintly Abdul Baha can have ‘lifted up his foot’ against him, the more so as Abdul Baha would never defend himself, but walked straight forward on the appointed path. That path must have differed somewhat as the years advanced. His public addresses prove that through this or that channel he had imbibed something of humanistic and even scientific culture; he was a much more complete man than St. Francis of Assisi, who despised human knowledge. It is true he interpreted any facts which he gathered in the light of revealed religious truth. But he distinctly recognized the right of scientific research, and must have had some one to guide him in the tracks of modern inquiry.
The death of his father must have made a great difference to him In the disposal of his time. It is to this second period in his life that Mr. Phelps refers when he makes this statement:
‘His general order for the day is prayers and tea at sunrise, and dictating letters or “tablets,” receiving visitors, and giving alms to the poor until dinner in the middle of the day. After this meal he takes a half-hour’s siesta, spends the afternoon in making visits to the sick and others whom he has occasion to see about the city, and the evening in talking to the believers or in expounding, to any who wish to hear him, the Kuran, on which, even among Muslims, he is reputed to be one of the highest authorities, learned men of that faith frequently coming from great distances to consult him with regard to its interpretation.
‘He then returns to his house and works until about one o’clock over his correspondence. This is enormous, and would more than occupy his entire time, did he read and reply to all his letters personally. As he finds it impossible to do this, but is nevertheless determined that they shall all receive careful and impartial attention, he has recourse to the assistance of his daughter Ruha, upon whose intelligence and conscientious devotion to the work he can rely. During the day she reads and makes digests of letters received, which she submits to him at night.’
In his charities he is absolutely impartial; his love is like the divine love–it knows no bounds of nation or creed. Most of those who benefit by his presence are of course Muslims; many true stories are current among his family and intimate friends respecting them. Thus, there is the story of the Afghan who for twenty-four years received the bounty of the good Master, and greeted him with abusive speeches. In the twenty-fifth year, however, his obstinacy broke.
Many American and English guests have been entertained in the Master’s house. Sometimes even he has devoted a part of his scanty leisure to instructing them. We must remember, however, that of Bahaism as well as of true Christianity it may be said that it is not a dogmatic system, but a life. No one, so far as my observation reaches, has lived the perfect life like Abdul Baha, and he tells us himself that he is but the reflexion of Baha-‘ullah. We need not, therefore, trouble ourselves unduly about the opinions of God’s heroes; both father and son in the present case have consistently discouraged metaphysics and theosophy, except (I presume) for such persons as have had an innate turn for this subject.
Once more, the love of God and the love of humanity–which Abdul Baha boldly says is the love of God–is the only thing that greatly matters. And if he favours either half of humanity in preference to the other, it is women folk. He has a great repugnance to the institution of polygamy, and has persistently refused to take a second wife himself, though he has only daughters. Baha-‘ullah, as we have seen, acted differently; apparently he did not consider that the Islamic peoples were quite ripe for monogamy. But surely he did not choose the better part, as the history of Bahaism sufficiently shows. At any rate, the Centre of the Covenant has now spoken with no uncertain sound.
As we have seen, the two schismatic enterprises affected the sensitive nature of the true Centre of the Covenant most painfully; one thinks of a well-known passage in a Hebrew psalm. But he was more than compensated by several most encouraging events. The first was the larger scale on which accessions took place to the body of believers; from England to the United States, from India to California, in surprising numbers, streams of enthusiastic adherents poured in. It was, however, for Russia that the high honour was reserved of the erection of the first Bahai temple. To this the Russian Government was entirely favourable, because the Bahais were strictly forbidden by Baha-‘ullah and by Abdul Baha to take part in any revolutionary enterprises. The temple took some years to build, but was finished at last, and two Persian workmen deserve the chief praise for willing self-sacrifice in the building. The example thus set will soon be followed by our kinsfolk in the United States. A large and beautiful site on the shores of Lake Michigan has been acquired, and the construction will speedily be proceeded with.
It is, in fact, the outward sign of a new era. If Baha-‘ullah be our guide, all religions are essentially one and the same, and all human societies are linked By a covenant of brotherhood. Of this the Bahai temples–be they few, or be they many–are the symbols. No wonder that Abdul Baha is encouraged and consoled thereby. And yet I, as a member of a great world-wide historic church, cannot help feeling that our (mostly) ancient and beautiful abbeys and cathedrals are finer symbols of union in God than any which our modern builders can provide. Our London people, without distinction of sect, find a spiritual home in St. Paul’s Cathedral, though this is no part of our ancient inheritance.
Another comfort was the creation of a mausoleum (on the site of Mt. Carmel above Haifa) to receive the sacred relics of the Bab and of Baha-‘ullah, and in the appointed time also of Abdul Baha. [Footnote: See the description given by Thornton Chase, _In Galilee_, pp. 63 f.] This too must be not only a comfort to the Master, but an attestation for all time of the continuous development of the Modern Social Religion.
It is this sense of historical continuity in which the Bahais appear to me somewhat deficient. They seem to want a calendar of saints in the manner of the Positivist calendar. Bahai teaching will then escape the danger of being not quite conscious enough of its debt to the past. For we have to reconcile not only divergent races and religions, but also antiquity and (if I may use the word) modernity. I may mention that the beloved Master has deigned to call me by a new name.[Footnote: ‘Spiritual Philosopher.’] He will bear with me if I venture to interpret that name in a sense favourable to the claims of history.
The day is not far off when the details of Abdul Baha’s missionary journeys will be admitted to be of historical importance. How gentle and wise he was, hundreds could testify from personal knowledge, and I too could perhaps say something–I will only, however, give here the outward framework of Abdul Baha’s life, and of his apostolic journeys, with the help of my friend Lotfullah. I may say that it is with deference to this friend that in naming the Bahai leaders I use the capital H (He, His, Him).
Abdul Baha was born on the same night in which His Holiness the Bab declared his mission, on May 23, A.D. 1844. The Master, however, eager for the glory of the forerunner, wishes that that day (i.e. May 23) be kept sacred for the declaration of His Holiness the Bab, and has appointed another day to be kept by Bahais as the Feast of Appointment of the CENTRE OF THE COVENANT–Nov. 26. It should be mentioned that the great office and dignity of Centre of the Covenant was conferred on Abdul Baha Abbas Effendi by His father.
It will be in the memory of most that the Master was retained a prisoner under the Turkish Government at Akka until Sept. 1908, when the doors of His prison were opened by the Young Turks. After this He stayed in Akka and Haifa for some time, and then went to Egypt, where He sojourned for about two years. He then began His great European journey. He first visited London. On His way thither He spent some few weeks in Geneva. [Footnote: Mr. H. Holley has given a classic description of Abdul Baha, whom he met at Thonon on the shores of Lake Leman, in his _Modern Social Religion_, Appendix I.] On Monday, Sept. 3, 1911, He arrived in London; the great city was honoured by a visit of twenty-six days. During His stay in London He made a visit one afternoon to Vanners’ in Byfleet on Sept. 9, where He spoke to a number of working women.
He also made a week-end visit to Clifton (Bristol) from Sept. 23, 1911, to Sept. 25.
On Sept. 29, 1911, He started from London and went to Paris and stayed there for about two months, and from there He went to Alexandria.
His second journey consumed much time, but the fragrance of God accompanied Him. On March 25, 1912, He embarked from Alexandria for America. He made a long tour in almost all the more important cities of the United States and Canada.