Great was the scandal of both clergy and laity when this fateful step of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn became known at Kazwin. Greater still must it have been if (as Gobineau states) she actually appeared in public without a veil. Is this true? No, it is not true, said Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, when questioned on this point by Browne. Now and then, when carried away by her eloquence, she would allow the veil to slip down off her face, but she would always replace it. The tradition handed on in Baha-'ullah's family is different, and considering how close was the bond between Bāhāa and Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, I think it safer to follow the family of Bāhā, which in this case involves agreeing with Gobineau. This noble woman, therefore, has the credit of opening the catalogue of social reforms in Persia. Presently I shall have occasion to refer to this again.
Mirza Jani confirms this view. He tells us that after being converted, our heroine 'set herself to proclaim and establish the doctrine,' and that this she did 'seated behind a curtain.' We are no doubt meant to suppose that those of her hearers who were women were gathered round the lecturer behind the curtain. It was not in accordance with conventions that men and women should be instructed together, and that—horrible to say—by a woman. The governor of Karbala determined to arrest her, but, though without a passport, she made good her escape to Baghdad. There she defended her religious position before the chief mufti. The secular authorities, however, ordered her to quit Turkish territory and not return.
The road which she took was that by Kirmanshah and Hamadan (both in Iraḳ; the latter, the humiliated representative of Ecbatana). Of course, Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn took the opportunity of preaching her Gospel, which was not a scheme of salvation or redemption, but 'certain subtle mysteries of the divine' to which but few had yet been privileged to listen. The names of some of her hearers are given; we are to suppose that some friendly theologians had gathered round her, partly as an escort, and partly attracted by her remarkable eloquence. Two of them we shall meet with presently in another connection. It must not, of course, be supposed that all minds were equally open. There were some who raised objections to Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and wrote a letter to the Bāb, complaining of her. The Bāb returned discriminating answers, the upshot of which was that her homilies were to be considered as inspired. We are told that these same objectors repented, which implies apparently that the Bāb's spiritual influence was effectual at a distance.
Other converts were made at the same places, and the idea actually occurred to her that she might put the true doctrine before the Shah. It was a romantic idea (Muḥammad Shah was anything thing but a devout and believing Muslim), not destined to be realized. Her father took the alarm and sent for her to come home, and, much to her credit, she gave filial obedience to his summons. It will be observed that it is the father who issues his orders; no husband is mentioned. Was it not, then, most probably on this return of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn that the maiden was married to Mullā Muḥammad, the eldest son of Haji Mullā Muḥammad Taḳi. Mirza Jani does not mention this, but unless our heroine made two journeys to Karbala, is it not the easiest way of understanding the facts? The object of the 'sage of Kazwin' was, of course, to prevent his daughter from traversing the country as an itinerant teacher. That object was attained. I will quote from an account which claims to be from Haji Muḥammad Hamami, who had been charged with this delicate mission by the family.
'I conducted Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn into the house of her father, to whom I rendered an account of what I had seen. Haji Mullā Taḳi, who was present at the interview, showed great irritation, and recommended all the servants to prevent "this woman" from going out of the house under any pretext whatsoever, and not to permit any one to visit her without his authority. Thereupon he betook himself to the traveller's room, and tried to convince her of the error in which she was entangled. He entirely failed, however, and, furious before that settled calm and earnestness, was led to curse the Bāb and to load him with insults. Then Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn looked into his face, and said to him, "Woe unto thee, for I see thy mouth filling with blood."'
Such is the oral tradition which our informant reproduces. In criticizing it, we may admit that the gift of second sight was possessed by the Bābī and Bahai leaders. But this particular anecdote respecting our heroine is (may I not say?) very improbable. To curse the Bāb was not the way for an uncle to convince his erring niece. One may, with more reason, suppose that her father and uncle trusted to the effect of matrimony, and committed the transformation of the lady to her cousin Mullā Muḥammad. True, this could not last long, and the murder of Taḳi in the mosque of Kazwin must have precipitated Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn's resolution to divorce her husband (as by Muḥammadan law she was entitled to do) and leave home for ever. It might, however, have gone hardly with her if she had really uttered the prophecy related above. Evidently her husband, who had accused her of complicity in the crime, had not heard of it. So she was acquitted. The Bāb, too, favoured the suggestion of her leaving home, and taking her place among his missionaries. [Footnote: Nicolas, AMB, p. 277.] At the dead of night, with an escort of Bābīs, she set out ostensibly for Khurasan. The route which she really adopted, however, took her by the forest-country of Mazandaran, where she had the leisure necessary for pondering the religious situation.
The sequel was dramatic. After some days and nights of quietude, she suddenly made her appearance in the hamlet of Badasht, to which place a representative conference of Bābīs had been summoned.
The object of the conference was to correct a widespread misunderstanding. There were many who thought that the new leader came, in the most literal sense, to fulfil the Islamic Law. They realized, indeed, that the object of Muḥammad was to bring about an universal kingdom of righteousness and peace, but they thought this was to be effected by wading through streams of blood, and with the help of the divine judgments. The Bāb, on the other hand, though not always consistent, was moving, with some of his disciples, in the direction of moral suasion; his only weapon was 'the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.' When the Ḳa'im appeared all things would be renewed. But the Ḳa'im was on the point of appearing, and all that remained was to prepare for his Coming. No more should there be any distinction between higher and lower races, or between male and female. No more should the long, enveloping veil be the badge of woman's inferiority.
The gifted woman before us had her own characteristic solution of the problem. So, doubtless, had the other Bābī leaders who were present, such as Ḳuddus and Baha-'ullah, the one against, the other in favour of social reforms.
It is said, in one form of tradition, that Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn herself attended the conference with a veil on. If so, she lost no time in discarding it, and broke out (we are told) into the fervid exclamation, 'I am the blast of the trumpet, I am the call of the bugle,' i.e. 'Like Gabriel, I would awaken sleeping souls.' It is said, too, that this short speech of the brave woman was followed by the recitation by Baha-'ullah of the Sura of the Resurrection (lxxv.). Such recitations often have an overpowering effect.
The inner meaning of this was that mankind was about to pass into a new cosmic cycle, for which a new set of laws and customs would be indispensable.
There is also a somewhat fuller tradition. Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn was in Mazandaran, and so was also Baha'ullah. The latter was taken ill, and Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, who was an intimate friend of his, was greatly concerned at this. For two days she saw nothing of him, and on the third sent a message to him to the effect that she could keep away no longer, but must come to see him, not, however, as hitherto, but with her head uncovered. If her friend disapproved of this, let him censure her conduct. He did not disapprove, and on the way to see him, she proclaimed herself the trumpet blast.
At any rate, it was this bold act of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn which shook the foundations of a literal belief in Islamic doctrines among the Persians. It may be added that the first-fruits of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn's teaching was no one less than the heroic Ḳuddus, and that the eloquent teacher herself owed her insight probably to Baha-'ullah. Of course, the supposition that her greatest friend might censure her is merely a delightful piece of irony. [Footnote: NH, pp. 357-358.]
I have not yet mentioned the long address assigned to our heroine by Mirza Jani. It seems to me, in its present form, improbable, and yet the leading ideas may have been among those expressed by the prophetess. If so, she stated that the laws of the previous dispensation were abrogated, and that laws in general were only necessary till men had learnt to comprehend the Perfection of the Doctrine of the Unity. 'And should men not be able to receive the Doctrine of the Unity at the beginning of the Manifestation, ordinances and restrictions will again be prescribed for them.' It is not wonderful that the declaration of an impending abrogation of Law was misinterpreted, and converted into a licence for Antinomianism. Mirza Jani mentions, but with some reticence, the unseemly conduct of some of the Bābīs.
There must, however, have been some who felt the spell of the great orator, and such an one is portrayed by Mme. H. Dreyfus, in her dramatic poem God's Heroes, under the name of 'Ali. I will quote here a little speech of 'Ali's, and also a speech of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, because they seem to me to give a more vivid idea of the scene than is possible for a mere narrator. [Footnote: God's Heroes, by Laura Clifford Barney [Paris, 1909], p. 64, Act III.]
'ALI
'Soon we shall leave Badasht: let us leave it filled with the Gospel of life! Let our lives show what we, sincere Muḥammadans, have become through our acceptance of the Bāb, the Mahdi, who has awakened us to the esoteric meaning of the Resurrection Day. Let us fill the souls of men with the glory of the revealed word. Let us advance with arms extended to the stranger. Let us emancipate our women, reform our society. Let us arise out of our graves of superstition and of self, and pronounce that the Day of Judgment is at hand; then shall the whole earth respond to the quickening power of regeneration!'
QURRATU'L-'AIN
(Deeply moved and half to herself.)
'I feel impelled to help unveil the Truth to these men assembled. If my act be good the result will be good; if bad, may it affect me alone!
'(Advances majestically with face unveiled, and as she walks towards Baha-'ullah's tent, addresses the men.) That sound of the trumpet which ushers in the Day of Judgment is my call to you now! Rise, brothers! The Quran is completed, the new era has begun. Know me as your sister, and let all barriers of the past fall down before our advancing steps. We teach freedom, action, and love. That sound of the trumpet, it is I! That blast of the trumpet, it is I!
(Exit Qurratu'l 'Ain.)'
On the breaking up of the Council our heroine joined a large party of Bābīs led by her great friend Ḳuddus. On their arrival in Nūr, however, they separated, she herself staying in that district. There she met Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, who is said to have rendered her many services. But before long the people of Mazandaran surrendered the gifted servant of truth to the Government.
We next meet with her in confinement at Tihran. There she was treated at first with the utmost gentleness, her personal charm being felt alike by her host, Maḥmūd the Kalantar, and by the most frigid of Persian sovereigns. The former tried hard to save her. Doubtless by using Ketman (i.e. by pretending to be a good Muslim) she might have escaped. But her view of truth was too austere for this.
So the days—the well-filled days—wore on. Her success with inquirers was marvellous; wedding-feasts were not half so bright as her religious soirées. But she herself had a bridegroom, and longed to see him. It was the attempt by a Bābī on the Shah's life on August 15, 1852, which brought her nearer to the desire of her heart. One of the servants of the house has described her last evening on earth. I quote a paragraph from the account.
'While she was in prison, the marriage of the Kalantar's son took place. As was natural, all the women-folk of the great personages were invited. But although large sums had been expended on the entertainments usual at such a time, all the ladies called loudly for Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn. She came accordingly, and hardly had she begun to speak when the musicians and dancing-girls were dismissed, and, despite the counter attractions of sweet delicacies, the guests had no eyes and ears save for Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn.
'At last, a night came when something strange and sad happened. I had just waked up, and saw her go down into the courtyard. After washing from head to foot she went back into her room, where she dressed herself altogether in white. She perfumed herself, and as she did this she sang, and never had I seen her so contented and joyous as in this song. Then she turned to the women of the house, and begged them to pardon the disagreeables which might have been occasioned by her presence, and the faults which she might have committed towards them; in a word, she acted exactly like some one who is about to undertake a long journey. We were all surprised, asking ourselves what that could mean. In the evening, she wrapped herself in a chadour, which she fixed about her waist, making a band of her chargud, then she put on again her chagchour. Her joy as she acted thus was so strange that we burst into tears, for her goodness and inexhaustible friendliness made us love her. But she smiled on us and said, "This evening I am going to take a great, a very great journey." At this moment there was a knock at the street door. "Run and open," she said, "for they will be looking for me."
'It was the Kalantar who entered. He went in, as far as her room, and said to her, "Come, Madam, for they are asking for you." "Yes," said she, "I know it. I know, too, whither I am to be taken; I know how I shall be treated. But, ponder it well, a day will come when thy Master will give thee like treatment." Then she went out dressed as she was with the Kalantar; we had no idea whither she was being taken, and only on the following day did we learn that she was executed.'
One of the nephews of the Kalantar, who was in the police, has given an account of the closing scene, from which I quote the following:
'Four hours after sunset the Kalantar asked me if all my measures were taken, and upon the assurances which I gave him he conducted me into his house. He went in alone into the enderūn, but soon returned, accompanied by Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and gave me a folded paper, saying to me, "You will conduct this woman to the garden of Ilkhaní, and will give her into the charge of Aziz Khan the Serdar."
'A horse was brought, and I helped Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn to mount. I was afraid, however, that the Bābīs would find out what was passing. So I threw my cloak upon her, so that she was taken for a man. With an armed escort we set out to traverse the streets. I feel sure, however, that if a rescue had been attempted my people would have run away. I heaved a sigh of relief on entering the garden. I put my prisoner in a room under the entrance, ordered my soldiers to guard the door well, and went up to the third story to find the Serdar.
'He expected me. I gave him the letter, and he asked me if no one had understood whom I had in charge. "No one," I replied, "and now that I have performed my duty, give me a receipt for my prisoner." "Not yet," he said; "you have to attend at the execution; afterwards I will give you your receipt."
'He called a handsome young Turk whom he had in his service, and tried to win him over by flatteries and a bribe. He further said, "I will look out for some good berth for you. But you must do something for me. Take this silk handkerchief, and go downstairs with this officer. He will conduct you into a room where you will find a young woman who does much harm to believers, turning their feet from the way of Muḥammad. Strangle her with this handkerchief. By so doing you will render an immense service to God, and I will give you a large reward."
'The valet bowed and went out with me. I conducted him to the room where I had left my prisoner. I found her prostrate and praying. The young man approached her with the view of executing his orders. Then she raised her head, looked fixedly at him and said, "Oh, young man, it would ill beseem you to soil your hand with this murder."
'I cannot tell what passed in this young man's soul. But it is a fact that he fled like a madman. I ran too, and we came together to the serdar, to whom he declared that it was impossible for him to do what was required. "I shall lose your patronage," he said. "I am, indeed, no longer my own master; do what you will with me, but I will not touch this woman."
'Aziz Khan packed him off, and reflected for some minutes. He then sent for one of his horsemen whom, as a punishment for misconduct, he had put to serve in the kitchens. When he came in, the serdar gave him a friendly scolding: "Well, son of a dog, bandit that you are, has your punishment been a lesson to you? and will you be worthy to regain my affection? I think so. Here, take this large glass of brandy, swallow it down, and make up for going so long without it." Then he gave him a fresh handkerchief, and repeated the order which he had already given to the young Turk.
'We entered the chamber together, and immediately the man rushed upon Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and tied the handkerchief several times round her neck. Unable to breathe, she fell to the ground in a faint; he then knelt with one knee on her back, and drew the handkerchief with might and main. As his feelings were stirred and he was afraid, he did not leave her time to breathe her last. He took her up in his arms, and carried her out to a dry well, into which he threw her still alive. There was no time to lose, for daybreak was at hand. So we called some men to help us fill up the well.'
Mons. Nicolas, formerly interpreter of the French Legation at Tihran, to whom we are indebted for this narrative, adds that a pious hand planted five or six solitary trees to mark the spot where the heroine gave up this life for a better one. It is doubtful whether the ruthless modern builder has spared them.
The internal evidence in favour of this story is very strong; there is a striking verisimilitude about it. The execution of a woman to whom so much romantic interest attached cannot have been in the royal square; that would have been to court unpopularity for the Government. Moreover, there is a want of definite evidence that women were among the public victims of the 'reign of Terror' which followed the attempt on the Shah's life (cp. TN, p. 334). That Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn was put to death is certain, but this can hardly have been in public. It is true, a European doctor, quoted by Prof. Browne (TN, p. 313), declares that he witnessed the heroic death of the 'beautiful woman.' He seems to imply that the death was accompanied by slow tortures. But why does not this doctor give details? Is he not drawing upon his fancy? Let us not make the persecutors worse than they were.
Count Gobineau's informant appears to me too imaginative, but I will give his statements in a somewhat shortened form.
'The beauty, eloquence, and enthusiasm of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn exercised a fascination even upon her gaoler. One morning, returning from the royal camp, he went into the enderūn, and told his prisoner that he brought her good news. "I know it," she answered gaily; "you need not be at the pains to tell me." "You cannot possibly know my news," said the Ḳalantar; "it is a request from the Prime Minister. You will be conducted to Niyavaran, and asked, 'Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, are you a Bābī?' You will simply answer, 'No.' You will live alone for some time, and avoid giving people anything to talk about. The Prime Minister will keep his own opinion about you, but he will not exact more of you than this."'
The words of the prophetess came true. She was taken to Niyavaran, and publicly but gently asked, 'Are you a Bābī?' She answered what she had said that she would answer in such a case. She was taken back to Tihran. Her martyrdom took place in the citadel. She was placed upon a heap of that coarse straw which is used to increase the bulk of woollen and felt carpets. But before setting fire to this, the executioners stifled her with rags, so that the flames only devoured her dead body.
An account is also given in the London manuscript of the New History, but as the Mirza suffered in the same persecution as the heroine, we must suppose that it was inserted by the editor. It is very short.
'For some while she was in the house of Maḥmūd Khan, the Kalantar, where she exhorted and counselled the women of the household, till one day she went to the bath, whence she returned in white garments, saying, "To-morrow they will kill me." Next day the executioner came and took her to the Nigaristan. As she would not suffer them to remove the veil from her face (though they repeatedly sought to do so) they applied the bow-string, and thus compassed her martyrdom. Then they cast her holy body into a well in the garden. [Footnote: NH, pp. 283 f.]
My own impression is that a legend early began to gather round the sacred form of Her Highness the Pure. Retracing his recollections even Dr. Polak mixes up truth and fiction, and has in his mind's eye something like the scene conjured up by Count Gobineau in his description of the persecution of Tihran:—
'On vit s'avancer, entre les bourreaux, des enfants et des femmes, les chairs ouvertes sur tout le corps, avec des mèches allumées flambantes fichées dans les blessures.'
Looking back on the short career of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, one is chiefly struck by her fiery enthusiasm and by her absolute unworldliness. This world was, in fact, to her, as it was said to be to Ḳuddus, a mere handful of dust. She was also an eloquent speaker and experienced in the intricate measures of Persian poetry. One of her few poems which have thus far been made known is of special interest, because of the belief which it expresses in the divine-human character of some one (here called Lord), whose claims, when once adduced, would receive general recognition. Who was this Personage? It appears that Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn thought Him slow in bringing forward these claims. Is there any one who can be thought of but Baha-'ullah?
The Bahaite tradition confidently answers in the negative. Baha-'ullah, it declares, exercised great influence on the second stage of the heroine's development, and Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn was one of those who had pressed forward into the innermost sanctum of the Bāb's disclosures. She was aware that 'The Splendour of God' was 'He whom God would manifest.' The words of the poem, in Prof. Browne's translation, refer, not to Ezel, but to his brother Baha-'ullah. They are in TN, p. 315.
'Why lags the word, "Am I not your Lord"? "Yea, that thou art," let us make reply.'
The poetess was a true Bahaite. More than this; the harvest sown in Islamic lands by Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn is now beginning to appear. A letter addressed to the Christian Commonwealth last June informs us that forty Turkish suffragettes are being deported from Constantinople to Akka (so long the prison of Baha-'ullah):
'"During the last few years suffrage ideas have been spreading quietly behind in the harems. The men were ignorant of it; everybody was ignorant of it; and now suddenly the floodgate is opened and the men of Constantinople have thought it necessary to resort to drastic measures. Suffrage clubs have been organized, intelligent memorials incorporating the women's demands have been drafted and circulated; women's journals and magazines have sprung up, publishing excellent articles; and public meetings were held. Then one day the members of these clubs—four hundred of them—cast away their veils. The staid, fossilized class of society were shocked, the good Mussulmans were alarmed, and the Government forced into action. These four hundred liberty-loving women were divided into several groups. One group composed of forty have been exiled to Akka, and will arrive in a few days. Everybody is talking about it, and it is really surprising to see how numerous are those in favour of removing the veils from the faces of the women. Many men with whom I have talked think the custom not only archaic, but thought-stifling. The Turkish authorities, thinking to extinguish this light of liberty, have greatly added to its flame, and their high-handed action has materially assisted the creation of a wider public opinion and a better understanding of this crucial problem." The other question exercising opinion in Ḥaifa is the formation of a military and strategic quarter out of Akka, which in this is resuming its bygone importance. Six regiments of soldiers are to be quartered there. Many officers have already arrived and are hunting for houses, and as a result rents are trebled. It is interesting to reflect, as our Baha correspondent suggests, on the possible consequence of this projection of militarism into the very centre fount of the Bahai faith in universal peace.'
BAHA-'ULLAH (MIRZA ḤUSEYN ALI OF NŪR)
According to Count Gobineau, the martyrdom of the Bāb at Tabriz was followed by a Council of the Bābī chiefs at Teheran (Tihran). What authority he has for this statement is unknown, but it is in itself not improbable. Formerly the members of the Two Unities must have desired to make their policy as far as possible uniform. We have already heard of the Council of Badasht (from which, however, the Bāb, or, the Point, was absent); we now have to make room in our mind for the possibilities of a Council of Tihran. It was an important occasion of which Gobineau reminds us, well worthy to be marked by a Council, being nothing less than the decision of the succession to the Pontificate.
At such a Council who would as a matter of course be present? One may mention in the first instance Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali, titled as Baha-'ullah, and his half-brother, Mirza Yaḥya, otherwise known as Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, also Jenāb-i-'Azim, Jenāb-i-Bazir, Mirza Asadu'llah [Footnote: Gobineau, however, thinks that Mirza Asadu'llah was not present at the (assumed) Council.] (Dayyan), Sayyid Yaḥya (of Darab), and others similarly honoured by the original Bāb. And who were the candidates for this terribly responsible post? Several may have wished to be brought forward, but one candidate, according to the scholar mentioned, overshadowed the rest. This was Mirza Yaḥya (of Nūr), better known as Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.
The claims of this young man were based on a nomination-document now in the possession of Prof. Browne, and have been supported by a letter given in a French version by Mons. Nicolas. Forgery, however, has played such a great part in written documents of the East that I hesitate to recognize the genuineness of this nomination. And I think it very improbable that any company of intensely earnest men should have accepted the document in preference to the evidence of their own knowledge respecting the inadequate endowments of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.
No doubt the responsibilities of the pontificate would be shared. There would be a 'Gate' and there would be a 'Point.' The deficiencies of the 'Gate' might be made good by the 'Point.' Moreover, the 'Letters of the Living' were important personages; their advice could hardly be rejected. Still the gravity and variety of the duties devolving upon the 'Gate' and the 'Point' give us an uneasy sense that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel was not adequate to either of these posts, and cannot have been appointed to either of them by the Council. The probability is that the arrangement already made was further sanctioned, viz. that Baha-'ullah was for the present to take the private direction of affairs and exercise his great gifts as a teacher, while Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (a vain young man) gave his name as ostensible head, especially with a view to outsiders and to agents of the government.
It may be this to which allusion is made in a tradition preserved by Behîah Khanum, sister of Abbas Effendi Abdul Baha, that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel claimed to be equal to his half-brother, and that he rested this claim on a vision. The implication is that Baha-'ullah was virtually the head of the Bābī community, and that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel was wrapt up in dreams, and was really only a figurehead. In fact, from whatever point of view we compare the brothers (half-brothers), we are struck by the all-round competence of the elder and the incompetence of the younger. As leader, as teacher, and as writer he was alike unsurpassed. It may be mentioned in passing that, not only the Hidden Words and the Seven Valleys, but the fine though unconvincing apologetic arguments of the Book of Ighan flowed from Baha-'ullah's pen at the Baghdad period. But we must now make good a great omission. Let us turn back to our hero's origin and childhood.
Ḥuseyn 'Ali was half-brother of Yaḥya, i.e. they had the same father but different mothers. The former was the elder, being born in A.D. 1817, whereas the latter only entered on his melancholy life in A.D. 1830. [Footnote: It is a singular fact that an Ezelite source claims the name Baha-'ullah for Mirza Yaḥya. But one can hardly venture to credit this. See TN, p. 373 n. 1.] Both embraced the Bābī faith, and were called respectively Baha-'ullah (Splendour of God) and Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (Dawn of Eternity). Their father was known as Buzurg (or, Abbas), of the district of Nūr in Mazandaran. The family was distinguished; Mirza Buzurg held a high post under government.
Like many men of his class, Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali had a turn for mysticism, but combined this—like so many other mystics—with much practical ability. He became a Bābī early in life, and did much to lay the foundations of the faith both in his native place and in the capital. His speech was like a 'rushing torrent,' and his clearness in exposition brought the most learned divines to his feet. Like his half-brother, he attended the important Council of Badasht, where, with God's Heroine—Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn—he defended the cause of progress and averted a fiasco. The Bāb—'an ambassador in bonds'—he never met, but he corresponded with him, using (as it appears) the name of his half-brother as a protecting pseudonym. [Footnote: TN, p. 373 n. 1.]
The Bāb was 'taken up into heaven' in 1850 upon which (according to a Tradition which I am compelled to reject) Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel succeeded to the Supreme Headship. The appointment would have been very unsuitable, but the truth is (pace Gobineau) that it was never made, or rather, God did not will to put such a strain upon our faith. It was, in fact, too trying a time for any new teacher, and we can now see the wisdom of Baha-'ullah in waiting for the call of events. The Bābī community was too much divided to yield a new Head a frank and loyal obedience. Many Bābīs rose against the government, and one even made an attempt on the Shah's life. Baha-'ullah (to use the name given to Ḥuseyn 'Ali of Nūr by the Bāb) was arrested near Tihran on a charge of complicity. He was imprisoned for four months, but finally acquitted and released. No wonder that Baha-'ullah and his family were anxious to put as large a space as possible between themselves and Tihran.
Together with several Bābī families, and, of course, his own nearest and dearest, Baha-'ullah set out for Baghdad. It was a terrible journey in rough mountain country and the travellers suffered greatly from exposure. On their arrival fresh misery stared the ladies in the face, unaccustomed as they were to such rough life. They were aided, however, by the devotion of some of their fellow-believers, who rendered many voluntary services; indeed, their affectionate zeal needed to be restrained, as St. Paul doubtless found in like circumstances. Baha-'ullah himself was intensely, divinely happy, and the little band of refugees—thirsty for truth—rejoiced in their untrammelled intercourse with their Teacher. Unfortunately religious dissensions began to arise. In the Bābī colony at Baghdad there were some who were not thoroughly devoted to Baha-'ullah. The Teacher was rather too radical, too progressive for them. They had not been introduced to the simpler and more spiritual form of religion taught by Baha-'ullah, and probably they had had positive teaching of quite another order from some one authorized by Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.
The strife went on increasing in bitterness, until at length it became clear that either Baha-'ullah or Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel must for a time vanish from the scene. For Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (or, for shortness, Ezel) to disappear would be suicidal; he knew how weak his personal claims to the pontificate really were. But Baha-'ullah's disappearance would be in the general interest; it would enable the Bābīs to realize how totally dependent they were, in practical matters, on Baha-'ullah. 'Accordingly, taking a change of clothes, but no money, and against the entreaties of all the family, he set out. Many months passed; he did not return, nor had we any word from him or about him.
'There was an old physician at Baghdad who had been called upon to attend the family, and who had become our friend. He sympathized much with us, and undertook on his own account to make inquiries for my father. These inquiries were long without definite result, but at length a certain traveller to whom he had described my father said that he had heard of a man answering to that description, evidently of high rank, but calling himself a dervish, living in caves in the mountains. He was, he said, reputed to be so wise and wonderful in his speech on religious things that when people heard him they would follow him; whereupon, wishing to be alone, he would change his residence to a cave in some other locality. When we heard these things, we were convinced that this dervish was in truth our beloved one. But having no means to send him any word, or to hear further of him, we were very sad.
'There was also then in Baghdad an earnest Bābī, formerly a pupil of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn. This man said to us that as he had no ties and did not care for his life, he desired no greater happiness than to be allowed to seek for him all loved so much, and that he would not return without him. He was, however, very poor, not being able even to provide an ass for the journey; and he was besides not very strong, and therefore not able to go on foot. We had no money for the purpose, nor anything of value by the sale of which money could be procured, with the exception of a single rug, upon which we all slept. This we sold and with the proceeds bought an ass for this friend, who thereupon set out upon the search.
'Time passed; we heard nothing, and fell into the deepest dejection and despair. Finally, four months having elapsed since our friend had departed, a message was one day received from him saying that he would bring my father home on the next day. The absence of my father had covered a little more than two years. After his return the fame which he had acquired in the mountains reached Baghdad. His followers became numerous; many of them even the fierce and untutored Arabs of Irak. He was visited also by many Bābīs from Persia.'
This is the account of the sister of our beloved and venerated Abdul Baha. There are, however, two other accounts which ought to be mentioned. According to the Traveller's Narrative, the refuge of Baha-'ullah was generally in a place called Sarkalu in the mountains of Turkish Kurdistan; more seldom he used to stay in Suleymaniyya, the headquarters of the Sunnites. Before long, however, 'the most eminent doctors of those regions got some inkling of his circumstances and conditions, and conversed with him on the solution of certain difficult questions connected with the most abstruse points of theology. In consequence of this, fragmentary accounts of this were circulated in all quarters. Several persons therefore hastened thither, and began to entreat and implore.' [Footnote: TN, pp. 64, 65.]
If this is correct, Baha-'ullah was more widely known in Turkish Kurdistan than his family was aware, and debated high questions of theology as frequently as if he were in Baghdad or at the Supreme Shrine. Nor was it only the old physician and the poor Bābī disciple who were on the track of Baha-'ullah, but 'several persons'—no doubt persons of weight, who were anxious for a settlement of the points at issue in the Bābī community. A further contribution is made by the Ezeli historian, who states that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel himself wrote a letter to his brother, inviting him to return. [Footnote: TN, p. 359.] One wishes that letter could be recovered. It would presumably throw much light on the relations between the brothers at this critical period.
About 1862 representations were made to the Shah that the Bābī preaching at Baghdad was injurious to the true Faith in Persia. The Turkish Government, therefore, when approached on the subject by the Shah, consented to transfer the Bābīs from Baghdad to Constantinople. An interval of two weeks was accorded, and before this grace-time was over a great event happened—his declaration of himself to be the expected Messiah (Him whom God should manifest). As yet it was only in the presence of his son (now best known as Abdul Baha) and four other specially chosen disciples that this momentous declaration was made. There were reasons why Baha-'ullah should no longer keep his knowledge of the will of God entirely secret, and also reasons why he should not make the declaration absolutely public.
The caravan took four months to reach Constantinople. At this capital of the Muḥammadan world their stay was brief, as they were 'packed off' the same year to Adrianople. Again they suffered greatly. But who would find fault with the Great Compassion for arranging it so? And who would deny that there are more important events at this period which claim our interest? These are (1) the repeated attempts on the life of Baha-'ullah (or, as the Ezelis say, of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel) by the machinations of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (or, as the Ezelis say, of Baha-'ullah), and (2) the public declaration on the part of Baha-'ullah that he, and no one else, was the Promised Manifestation of Deity.
There is some obscurity in the chronological relation of these events, i.e. as to whether the public declaration of Baha-'ullah was in definite opposition, not only to the claims of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, but to those of Zabiḥ, related by Mirza Jani, [Footnote: See NH, pp. 385, 394; TN, p. 357. The Ezelite historian includes Dayyan (see above).] and of others, or whether the reverse is the case. At any rate Baha-'ullah believed that his brother was an assassin and a liar. This is what he says,—'Neither was the belly of the glutton sated till that he desired to eat my flesh and drink my blood…. And herein he took counsel with one of my attendants, tempting him unto this…. But he, when he became aware that the matter had become publicly known, took the pen of falsehood, and wrote unto the people, and attributed all that he had done to my peerless and wronged Beauty.' [Footnote: TN, pp. 368, 369.]
These words are either a meaningless extravagance, or they are a deliberate assertion that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel had sought to destroy his brother, and had then circulated a written declaration that it was Baha-'ullah who had sought to destroy Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel. It is, I fear, certain that Baha-'ullah is correct, and that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel did attempt to poison his brother, who was desperately ill for twenty-two days.
Another attempt on the life of the much-loved Master was prevented, it is said, by the faithfulness of the bath-servant. 'One day while in the bath Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel remarked to the servant (who was a believer) that the Blessed Perfection had enemies and that in the bath he was much exposed…. Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel then asked him whether, if God should lay upon him the command to do this, he would obey it. The servant understood this question, coming from Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, to be a suggestion of such a command, and was so petrified by it that he rushed screaming from the room. He first met Abbas Effendi and reported to him Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's words…. Abbas Effendi, accordingly, accompanied him to my father, who listened to his story and then enjoined absolute silence upon him.' [Footnote: Phelps, pp. 38, 39.]
Such is the story as given by one who from her youthful age is likely to have remembered with precision. She adds that the occurrence 'was ignored by my father and brother,' and that 'our relations with Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel continued to be cordial.' How extremely fine this is! It may remind us of 'Father, forgive them,' and seems to justify the title given to Baha-'ullah by his followers, 'Blessed Perfection.'
The Ezelite historian, however, gives a different version of the story. [Footnote: TN, pp. 359, 360.] According to him, it was Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel whose life was threatened. 'It was arranged that Muḥammad Ali the barber should cut his throat while shaving him in the bath. On the approach of the barber, however, Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel divined his design, refused to allow him to come near, and, on leaving the bath, instantly took another lodging in Adrianople, and separated himself from Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali and his followers.'
Evidently there was great animosity between the parties, but, in spite of the Eight Paradises, it appears to me that the Ezelites were chiefly in fault. Who can believe that Baha-'ullah spread abroad his brother's offences? [Footnote: Ibid.] On the other hand, Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and his advisers were capable of almost anything from poisoning and assassination to the forging of spurious letters. I do not mean to say that they were by any means the first persons in Persian history to venture on these abnormal actions.
It is again Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel who is responsible for the disturbance of the community.
It was represented—no doubt by this bitter foe—to the Turkish Government that Baha-'ullah and his followers were plotting against the existing order of things, and that when their efforts had been crowned with success, Baha-'ullah would be designated king. [Footnote: For another form of the story, see Phelps, Abbas Effendi, p. 46.] This may really have been a dream of the Ezelites (we must substitute Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel for Baha-'ullah); the Bahaites were of course horrified at the idea. But how should the Sultan discriminate? So the punishment fell on the innocent as well as the guilty, on the Bahaites as well as the Ezelites.
The punishment was the removal of Baha-'ullah and his party and Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and his handful of followers, the former to Akka (Acre) on the coast of Syria, the latter to Famagusta in Cyprus. The Bahaites were put on board ship at Gallipoli. A full account is given by Abbas Effendi's sister of the preceding events. It gives one a most touching idea of the deep devotion attracted by the magnetic personalities of the Leader and his son.
I have used the expression 'Leader,' but in the course of his stay at Adrianople Baha-'ullah had risen to a much higher rank than that of 'Leader.' We have seen that at an earlier period of his exile Baha-'ullah had made known to five of his disciples that he was in very deed the personage whom the Bāb had enigmatically promised. At that time, however, Baha-'ullah had pledged those five disciples to secrecy. But now the reasons for concealment did not exist, and Baha-'ullah saw (in 1863) that the time had come for a public declaration. This is what is stated by Abbas Effendi's sister:— [Footnote: Phelps, pp. 44-46.]
'He then wrote a tablet, longer than any he had before written, [which] he directed to be read to every Bābī, but first of all to Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel. He assigned to one of his followers the duty of taking it to Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, reading it to him, and returning with Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's reply. When Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel had heard the tablet he did not attempt to refute it; on the contrary he accepted it, and said that it was true. But he went on to maintain that he himself was co-equal with the Blessed Perfection, [Footnote: See p. 128.] affirming that he had a vision on the previous night in which he had received this assurance.
'When this statement of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel was reported to the Blessed Perfection, the latter directed that every Bābī should be informed of it at the time when he heard his own tablet read. This was done, and much uncertainty resulted among the believers. They generally applied to the Blessed Perfection for advice, which, however, he declined to give. At length he told them that he would seclude himself from them for four months, and that during this time they must decide the question for themselves. At the end of that period, all the Bābīs in Adrianople, with the exception of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and five or six others, came to the Blessed Perfection and declared that they accepted him as the Divine Manifestation whose coming the Bāb had foretold. The Bābīs of Persia, Syria, Egypt, and other countries also in due time accepted the Blessed Perfection with substantial unanimity.
Baha-'ullah, then, landed in Syria not merely as the leader of the greater part of the Bābīs at Baghdad, but as the representative of a wellnigh perfect humanity. He did not indeed assume the title 'The Point,' but 'The Point' and 'Perfection' are equivalent terms. He was, indeed, 'Fairer than the sons of men,' [Footnote: Ps. xlv. 2.] and no sorrow was spared to him that belonged to what the Jews and Jewish Christians called 'the pangs of the Messiah.' It is true, crucifixion does not appear among Baha-'ullah's pains, but he was at any rate within an ace of martyrdom. This is what Baha-'ullah wrote at the end of his stay at Adrianople:—[Footnote: Browne, A Year among the Persians, p. 518.]
'By God, my head longeth for the spears for the love of its Lord, and I never pass by a tree but my heart addresseth it [saying], 'Oh would that thou wert cut down in my name, and my body were crucified upon thee in the way of my Lord!'
The sorrows of his later years were largely connected with the confinement of the Bahaites at Acre (Akka). From the same source I quote the following.
'We are about to shift from this most remote place of banishment (Adrianople) unto the prison of Acre. And, according to what they say, it is assuredly the most desolate of the cities of the world, the most unsightly of them in appearance, the most detestable in climate, and the foulest in water.'
It is true, the sanitary condition of the city improved, so that Bahaites from all parts visited Akka as a holy city. Similar associations belong to Ḥaifa, so long the residence of the saintly son of a saintly father.
If there has been any prophet in recent times, it is to Baha-'ullah that we must go. Pretenders like Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and Muḥammad are quickly unmasked. Character is the final judge. Baha-'ullah was a man of the highest class—that of prophets. But he was free from the last infirmity of noble minds, and would certainly not have separated himself from others. He would have understood the saying, 'Would God all the Lord's people were prophets.' What he does say, however, is just as fine, 'I do not desire lordship over others; I desire all men to be even as I am.'
He spent his later years in delivering his message, and setting forth the ideals and laws of the New Jerusalem. In 1892 he passed within the veil.
PART III
BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL (continued)
ṢUBḤ-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 Ḥuseyn 'Ali, and his young half-brother was named Yaḥya.
According to Mirza Jani, the account which the history contains was given him by Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali's half-brother, who represents that the later kindness of his own mother to the young child Yaḥya 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 Ḥuseyn 'Ali. 'I busied myself,' says the latter, 'with the instruction of [Yaḥya]. 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 Yaḥya 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 Bāb, but when his 'honoured brother' would read the Master's writings in a circle of friends, Mirza Yaḥya used to listen, and conceived a fervent love for the inspired author. At the time of the Manifestation of the Bāb he was only fourteen, but very soon after, he, like his brother, took the momentous step of becoming a Bābī, and resolved to obey the order of the Bāb 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, Yaḥya made an expedition in company with some of his relations, making congenial friends, and helping to strengthen the Bābī 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 Bābī 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 Bābī 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 Muḥammad of Isfahan, and states that, perceiving Mirza Ḥuseyn '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 Muḥammad. [Footnote: TN, p. 94. 'He (i.e. Sayyid Muḥammad) commenced a secret intrigue, and fell to tempting Mirza Yaḥya, 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."'] Ṣubḥ-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 Yaḥya 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 Yaḥya, after which I shall refer to the singular point of the crystal coffin and to the moral character of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.
Among the names and titles which the Ezelite book called Eight Paradises declares to have been conferred by the Bāb on his young disciple are Ṣubḥ-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 Ṣubḥ-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 Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel from claiming to be 'He whom God will make manifest.' That is, the Bāb 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 Bāb to give Mirza Yaḥya such a name? Purely from cabbalistic reasons which do not concern us here. It was a mistake which only shows that the Bāb was not infallible. Mirza Yaḥya had no great part to play in the ushering-in of the new cycle. Elsewhere the Bāb 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 Yaḥya, whose feebleness in Arabic grammar was scandalous, but can we imagine Baha-'ullah and all the other 'letters' being passed over by the Bāb in favour of such an imperfectly educated young man? The so-called 'nomination' is a bare-faced forgery.
The statement of Gobineau that Ṣubḥ-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 Yaḥya. At the same time, the Bāb 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 Yaḥya was regarded as a 'return' of Ḳuddus, 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 Ḳuddus, Ṣubḥ-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 Yaḥya assumed either the title of Bāb (Gate) or that of Nuḳṭa (Point). [Footnote: Others, however, give it him (TN, p. 353).]
I must confess that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's account of the fortune of the Bāb'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 Bāb's death, and how was Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel able to conceal the crystal coffin, etc., from his brother Baha-'ullah?
Evidently Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel has changed greatly since the time when both the brothers (half-brothers) were devoted, heart and soul, to the service of the Bāb. It is this moral transformation which vitiates Ṣubḥ-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 Ṣubḥ-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 Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel his extraordinary statement.
Ṣubḥ-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 Bāb was mistaken in appointing (if he really did so) Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel as a nominal head of the Bābīs when the true, although temporary vice-gerent was Baha-'ullah. For Ṣubḥ-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 Bāb. On receiving the first letter, we are told that the Bāb (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 Ṣubḥ-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 Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (Mirza Yaḥya) 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 Ṣubḥ-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 Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, and the result has been (I think) that the literary reputation of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel is a mere bubble. It is true, the Bāb 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 Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel. There is also, however, a letter of Baha-'ullah relative to these letters, addressed to the Muḥammadan mullā, 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 Bāb 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 Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's first appearance appreciably weakens it. Something, however, we may admit as not improbable. It may well have gratified the Bāb 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 Ḳuddus.
DAYYAN
We have already been introduced to a prominent Bābī, 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 Bābīs 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 Ṣubḥ-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 Bāb, in which it was expressly foretold that Dayyan would believe on 'Him whom God would make manifest.' Ṣubḥ-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 Bāb 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 Bābī, 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 mullās; 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 ḥakîm 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 Ḥaifa. Observing this the American friends built Baha-'ullah a house in Ḥaifa, 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 Ḥaifa, 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 Muḥammadan. 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 Muḥammad Effendi—by means which remind us unpleasantly of Ṣubḥ-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 Ḳuranic 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: