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The Reconciliation of Races and Religions

by T. K. Cheyne · English · Gutenberg #7995 · 305,709 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Reconciliation of Races and Religions

Author: T. K. Cheyne


        
Release date: April 1, 2005 [eBook #7995]
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Language: English

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[Illustration:
_Lafayette, Manchester._
THE REV. T. K. CHEYNE, D. LITT, D. D.]



THE RECONCILIATION OF RACES AND RELIGIONS

BY

THOMAS KELLY CHEYNE, D. LITT., D. D.

FELLOW OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY, MEMBER OF THE NAVA VIDHAN (LAHORE), THE
BAHAI COMMUNITY, ETC.  RUḤANI; PRIEST OF THE PRINCE OF PEACE


To my dear wife in whose poems are combined an ardent faith, an
universal charity, and a simplicity of style which sometimes reminds
me of the poet seer William Blake may she accept and enjoy the
offering and may a like happiness be my lot when the little volume
reaches the hands of the ambassador of peace.



PREFACE


The primary aim of this work is twofold. It would fain contribute to
the cause of universal peace, and promote the better understanding of
the various religions which really are but one religion. The union of
religions must necessarily precede the union of races, which at
present is so lamentably incomplete. It appears to me that none of the
men or women of good-will is justified in withholding any suggestions
which may have occurred to him. For the crisis, both political and
religious, is alarming.

The question being ultimately a religious one, the author may be
pardoned if he devotes most of his space to the most important of its
religious aspects. He leaves it open to students of Christian politics
to make known what is the actual state of things, and how this is to
be remedied. He has, however, tried to help the reader by reprinting
the very noble Manifesto of the Society of Friends, called forth by
the declaration of war against Germany by England on the fourth day of
August 1914.

In some respects I should have preferred a Manifesto representing the
lofty views of the present Head of another Society of Friends--the
Bahai Fraternity. Peace on earth has been the ideal of the Bābīs
and Bahais since the Bābs time, and Professor E. G. Browne has
perpetuated Baha-'ullah's noble declaration of the imminent setting up
of the kingdom of God, based upon universal peace. But there is such a
thrilling actuality in the Manifesto of the Disciples of George Fox
that I could not help availing myself of Mr. Isaac Sharp's kind
permission to me to reprint it. It is indeed an opportune setting
forth of the eternal riches, which will commend itself, now as never
before, to those who can say, with the Grandfather in Tagore's poem,
'I am a jolly pilgrim to the land of losing everything.' The rulers of
this world certainly do not cherish this ideal; but the imminent
reconstruction of international relations will have to be founded upon
it if we are not to sink back into the gulf of militarism.

I have endeavoured to study the various races and religions on their
best side, and not to fetter myself to any individual teacher or
party, for 'out of His fulness have all we received.' Max Müller was
hardly right in advising the Brahmists to call themselves Christians,
and it is a pity that we so habitually speak of Buddhists and
Mohammedans. I venture to remark that the favourite name of the Bahais
among themselves is 'Friends.' The ordinary name Bahai comes from the
divine name Baha, 'Glory (of God),' so that Abdu'l Baha means 'Servant
of the Glory (of God).' One remembers the beautiful words of the Latin
collect, 'Cui servire regnare est.'

Abdu'l Baha (when in Oxford) graciously gave me a 'new name.'
[Footnote: Ruḥani ('spiritual').]  Evidently he thought that my work
was not entirely done, and would have me be ever looking for help to
the Spirit, whose 'strength is made perfect in weakness.' Since then
he has written me a Tablet (letter), from which I quote the following
lines:--

_'O thou, my spiritual philosopher,_

'Thy letter was received. In reality its contents were eloquent, for
it was an evidence of thy literary fairness and of thy investigation
of Reality.... There were many Doctors amongst the Jews, but they were
all earthly, but St. Paul became heavenly because he could fly
upwards. In his own time no one duly recognized him; nay, rather, he
spent his days amidst difficulties and contempt. Afterwards it became
known that he was not an earthly bird, he was a celestial one; he was
not a natural philosopher, but a divine philosopher.

'It is likewise my hope that in the future the East and the West may
become conscious that thou wert a divine philosopher and a herald to
the Kingdom.'

I have no wish to write my autobiography, but may mention here that I
sympathize largely with Vambéry, a letter from whom to Abdu'l Baha
will be found farther on; though I should express my own adhesion to
the Bahai leader in more glowing terms. Wishing to get nearer to a
'human-catholic' religion I have sought the privilege of simultaneous
membership of several brotherhoods of Friends of God. It is my wish to
show that both these and other homes of spiritual life are, when
studied from the inside, essentially one, and that religions
necessarily issue in racial and world-wide unity.

RUḤANI.
OXFORD, _August_ 1914.



CONTENTS

     PREFACE

     INTRODUCTION

  I. THE JEWELS OF THE FAITHS

 II. BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL

III. BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL (continued)

 IV. BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL; AMBASSADOR TO HUMANITY

  V. A SERIES OF ILLUSTRATIVE STUDIES BEARING ON COMPARATIVE RELIGION

     BAHAI BIBLIOGRAPHY



INTRODUCTION


TO MEN AND WOMEN OF GOODWILL IN THE BRITISH EMPIRE

_A Message (reprinted by permission) from the Religious Society of
Friends_

We find ourselves to-day in the midst of what may prove to be the
fiercest conflict in the history of the human race. Whatever may be
our view of the processes which have led to its inception, we have now
to face the fact that war is proceeding upon a terrific scale and that
our own country is involved in it.

We recognize that our Government has made most strenuous efforts to
preserve peace, and has entered into the war under a grave sense of
duty to a smaller State, towards which we had moral and treaty
obligations. While, as a Society, we stand firmly to the belief that
the method of force is no solution of any question, we hold that the
present moment is not one for criticism, but for devoted service to
our nation.

What is to be the attitude of Christian men and women and of all who
believe in the brotherhood of humanity? In the distress and perplexity
of this new situation, many are so stunned as scarcely to be able to
discern the path of duty.  In the sight of God we should seek to get
back to first principles, and to determine on a course of action which
shall prove us to be worthy citizens of His Kingdom. In making this
effort let us remember those groups of men and women, in all the other
nations concerned, who will be animated by a similar spirit, and who
believe with us that the fundamental unity of men in the family of God
is the one enduring reality, even when we are forced into an apparent
denial of it.  Although it would be premature to make any
pronouncement upon many aspects of the situation on which we have no
sufficient data for a reliable judgment, we can, and do, call
ourselves and you to a consideration of certain principles which may
safely be enunciated.

1. The conditions which have made this catastrophe possible must be
regarded by us as essentially unchristian. This war spells the
bankruptcy of much that we too lightly call Christian. No nation, no
Church, no individual can be wholly exonerated. We have all
participated to some extent in these conditions. We have been content,
or too little discontented, with them. If we apportion blame, let us
not fail first to blame ourselves, and to seek the forgiveness of
Almighty God.

2. In the hour of darkest night it is not for us to lose heart. Never
was there greater need for men of faith. To many will come the
temptation to deny God, and to turn away with despair from the
Christianity which seems to be identified with bloodshed on so
gigantic a scale.  Christ is crucified afresh to-day. If some forsake
Him and flee, let it be more clear that there are others who take
their stand with Him, come what may.

3. This we may do by continuing to show the spirit of love to all. For
those whose conscience forbids them to take up arms there are other
ways of serving, and definite plans are already being made to enable
them to take their full share in helping their country at this
crisis. In pity and helpfulness towards the suffering and stricken in
our own country we shall all share.  If we stop at this, 'what do we
more than others?'  Our Master bids us pray for and love our enemies.
May we be saved from forgetting that they too are the children of our
Father. May we think of them with love and pity. May we banish
thoughts of bitterness, harsh judgments, the revengeful spirit. To do
this is in no sense unpatriotic.  We may find ourselves the subjects
of misunderstanding. But our duty is clear--to be courageous in the
cause of love and in the hate of hate. May we prepare ourselves even
now for the day when once more we shall stand shoulder to shoulder
with those with whom we are now at war, in seeking to bring in the
Kingdom of God.

4. It is not too soon to begin to think out the new situation which
will arise at the close of the war. We are being compelled to face the
fact that the human race has been guilty of a gigantic folly. We have
built up a culture, a civilization, and even a religious life,
surpassing in many respects that of any previous age, and we have been
content to rest it all upon a foundation of sand. Such a state of
society cannot endure so long as the last word in human affairs is
brute force. Sooner or later it was bound to crumble.  At the close of
this war we shall be faced with a stupendous task of reconstruction.
In some ways it will be rendered supremely difficult by the legacy of
ill-will, by the destruction of human life, by the tax upon all in
meeting the barest wants of the millions who will have suffered
through the war. But in other ways it will be easier. We shall be able
to make a new start, and to make it all together. From this point of
view we may even see a ground of comfort in the fact that our own
nation is involved. No country will be in a position which will compel
others to struggle again to achieve the inflated standard of military
power existing before the war. We shall have an opportunity of
reconstructing European culture upon the only possible permanent
foundation--mutual trust and good-will. Such a reconstruction would
not only secure the future of European civilization, but would save
the world from the threatened catastrophe of seeing the great nations
of the East building their new social order also upon the sand, and
thus turning the thought and wealth needed for their education and
development into that which could only be a fetter to themselves and a
menace to the West.  Is it too much to hope for that we shall, when
the time comes, be able as brethren together to lay down far-reaching
principles for the future of mankind such as will ensure us for ever
against a repetition of this gigantic folly? If this is to be
accomplished it will need the united and persistent pressure of all
who believe in such a future for mankind.  There will still be
multitudes who can see no good in the culture of other nations, and
who are unable to believe in any genuine brotherhood among those of
different races. Already those who think otherwise must begin to think
and plan for such a future if the supreme opportunity of the final
peace is not to be lost, and if we are to be saved from being again
sucked down into the whirlpool of military aggrandizement and
rivalry. In time of peace all the nations have been preparing for
war. In the time of war let all men of good-will prepare for
peace. The Christian conscience must be awakened to the magnitude of
the issues. The great friendly democracies in each country must be
ready to make their influence felt. Now is the time to speak of this
thing, to work for it, to pray for it.

5. If this is to happen, it seems to us of vital importance that the
war should not be carried on in any vindictive spirit, and that it
should be brought to a close at the earliest possible moment.  We
should have it clearly before our minds from the beginning that we are
not going into it in order to crush and humiliate any nation. The
conduct of negotiations has taught us the necessity of prompt action
in international affairs. Should the opportunity offer, we, in this
nation, should be ready to act with promptitude in demanding that the
terms suggested are of a kind which it will be possible for all
parties to accept, and that the negotiations be entered upon in the
right spirit.

6. We believe in God. Human free will gives us power to hinder the
fulfilment of His loving purposes. It also means that we may actively
co-operate with Him. If it is given to us to see something of a
glorious possible future, after all the desolation and sorrow that lie
before us, let us be sure that sight has been given us by Him.  No day
should close without our putting up our prayer to Him that He will
lead His family into a new and better day. At a time when so severe a
blow is being struck at the great causes of moral, social, and
religious reform for which so many have struggled, we need to look
with expectation and confidence to Him, whose cause they are, and find
a fresh inspiration in the certainty of His victory.

_August 7, 1914._

'In time of war let all men of good-will prepare for peace.' German,
French, and English scholars and investigators have done much to show
that the search for truth is one of the most powerful links between
the different races and nations. It is absurd to speak--as many
Germans do habitually speak--of 'deutsche Wissenschaft,' as if the
glorious tree of scientific and historical knowledge were a purely
German production.  Many wars like that which closed at Sedan and that
which is still, most unhappily, in progress will soon drive lovers of
science and culture to the peaceful regions of North America!

The active pursuit of truth is, therefore, one of those things which
make for peace. But can we say this of moral and religious truth? In
this domain are we not compelled to be partisans and particularists?
And has not liberal criticism shown that the religious traditions of
all races and nations are to be relegated to the least cultured
classes? That is the question to the treatment of which I (as a
Christian student) offer some contributions in the present volume. But
I would first of all express my hearty sympathy with the friends of
God in the noble Russian Church, which has appointed the following
prayer among others for use at the present crisis: [Footnote:
_Church Times_, Sept. 4, 1914.]

'_Deacon_. Stretch forth Thine hand, O Lord, from on high, and
touch the hearts of our enemies, that they may turn unto Thee, the God
of peace Who lovest Thy creatures: and for Thy Name's sake strengthen
us who put our trust in Thee by Thy might, we beseech Thee. Hear us
and have mercy.'

Certainly it is hardness of heart which strikes us most painfully in
our (we hope) temporary enemies. The only excuse is that in the Book
which Christian nations agree to consider as in some sense and degree
religiously authoritative, the establishment of the rule of the Most
High is represented as coincident with extreme severities, or--as we
might well say--cruelties. I do not, however, think that the excuse,
if offered, would be valid. The Gospels must overbear any inconsistent
statement of the Old Testament.

But the greatest utterances of human morality are to be found in the
Buddhist Scriptures, and it is a shame to the European peoples that
the Buddhist Indian king Asoka should be more Christian than the
leaders of 'German culture.'  I for my part love the old Germany far
better than the new, and its high ideals would I hand on, filling up
its omissions and correcting its errors. 'O house of Israel, come ye,
let us walk in the light of the Lord.' Thou art 'the God of peace Who
lovest Thy creatures.'



PART I

THE JEWELS OF THE FAITHS


A STUDY OF THE CHIEF RELIGIONS ON THEIR BEST SIDE WITH A VIEW TO THEIR
EXPANSION AND ENRICHMENT AND TO AN ULTIMATE SYNTHESIS AND TO THE FINAL
UNION OF RACES AND NATIONS ON A SPIRITUAL BASIS

The crisis in the Christian Church is now so acute that we may well
seek for some mode of escape from its pressure. The Old Broad Church
position is no longer adequate to English circumstances, and there is
not yet in existence a thoroughly satisfactory new and original
position for a Broad Church student to occupy. Shall we, then, desert
the old historic Church in which we were christened and educated? It
would certainly be a loss, and not only to ourselves. Or shall we wait
with drooping head to be driven out of the Church? Such a cowardly
solution may be at once dismissed. Happily we have in the Anglican
Church virtually no excommunication.  Our only course as students is
to go forward, and endeavour to expand our too narrow Church
boundaries. Modernists we are; modernists we will remain; let our only
object be to be worthy of this noble name.

But we cannot be surprised that our Church rulers are perplexed. For
consider the embarrassing state of critical investigation. Critical
study of the Gospels has shown that very little of the traditional
material can be regarded as historical; it is even very uncertain
whether the Galilean prophet really paid the supreme penalty as a
supposed enemy of Rome on the shameful cross. Even apart from the
problem referred to, it is more than doubtful whether critics have
left us enough stones standing in the life of Jesus to serve as the
basis of a christology or doctrine of the divine Redeemer. And yet one
feels that a theology without a theophany is both dry and difficult to
defend. We want an avatâr, i.e. a 'descent' of God in human
form; indeed, we seem to need several such 'descents,' appropriate to
the changing circumstances of the ages. Did not the author of the
Fourth Gospel recognize this? Certainly his portrait of Jesus is so
widely different from that of the Synoptists that a genuine
reconciliation seems impossible. I would not infer from this that the
Jesus of the Fourth Gospel belonged to a different age from the Jesus
of the Synoptists, but I would venture to say that the Fourth
Evangelist would be easier to defend if he held this theory. The
Johannine Jesus ought to have belonged to a different aeon.


ANOTHER IMAGE OF GOD

Well, then, it is reasonable to turn for guidance and help to the
East. There was living quite lately a human being of such consummate
excellence that many think it is both permissible and inevitable even
to identify him mystically with the invisible Godhead. Let us admit,
such persons say, that Jesus was the very image of God. But he lived
for his own age and his own people; the Jesus of the critics has but
little to say, and no redemptive virtue issues from him to us. But the
'Blessed Perfection,' as Baha'ullah used to be called, lives for our
age, and offers his spiritual feast to men of all peoples. His story,
too, is liable to no diminution at the hands of the critics, simply
because the facts of his life are certain. He has now passed from
sight, but he is still in the ideal world, a true image of God and a
true lover of man, and helps forward the reform of all those manifold
abuses which hinder the firm establishment of the kingdom of God.  I
shall return to this presently. Meanwhile, suffice it to say that
though I entertain the highest reverence and love for Baha'ullah's
son, Abdul Baha, whom I regard as a Mahatma--'a great-souled one'--and
look up to as one of the highest examples in the spiritual firmament,
I hold no brief for the Bahai community, and can be as impartial in
dealing with facts relating to the Bahais as with facts which happen
to concern my own beloved mother-church, the Church of England.

I shall first of all ask, how it came to pass that so many of us are
now seeking help and guidance from the East, some from India, some
from Persia, some (which is my own case) from India and from Persia.


BAHA'ULLAH'S PRECURSORS, _e.g._ THE BĀB, ṢUFISM, AND SHEYKH
AḤMAD

So far as Persia is concerned, the reason is that its religious
experience has been no less varied than ancient. Zoroaster, Manes,
Christ, Muḥammad, Dh'u-Nun (the introducer of Ṣufism), Sheykh
Aḥmad (the forerunner of Babism), the Bāb himself and Baha'ullah
(the two Manifestations), have all left an ineffaceable mark on the
national life. The Bāb, it is true, again and again expresses his
repugnance to the 'lies' of the Ṣufis, and the Bābīs are not
behind him; but there are traces enough of the influence of Ṣufism
on the new Prophet and his followers.  The passion for martyrdom seems
of itself to presuppose a tincture of Ṣufism, for it is the most
extreme form of the passion for God, and to love God fervently but
steadily in preference to all the pleasures of the phenomenal world,
is characteristically Ṣufite.

What is it, then, in Ṣufism that excites the Bāb's indignation? It
is not the doctrine of the soul's oneness with God as the One Absolute
Being, and the reality of the soul's ecstatic communion with Him.
Several passages are quoted by Mons. Nicolas [Footnote: _Beyan
arabe_, pp. 3-18.]  on the attitude of the Bāb towards Ṣufism;
suffice it here to quote one of them.

'Others (i.e. those who claim, as being identified with God, to
possess absolute truth) are known by the name of Ṣufis, and believe
themselves to possess the internal sense of the Shari'at [Footnote:
The orthodox Law of Islam, which many Muslims seek to allegorize.]
when they are in ignorance alike of its apparent and of its inward
meaning, and have fallen far, very far from it! One may perhaps say of
them that those people who have no understanding have chosen the route
which is entirely of darkness and of doubt.'

Ignorance, then, is, according to the Bāb, the great fault of the
Ṣufis [Footnote: Yet the title Ṣufi connotes knowledge. It means
probably 'one who (like the Buddha on his statues) has a heavenly
eye.'  Prajnāparamitā (_Divine Wisdom_) has the same third
eye (Havell, _Indian Sculpture and Painting_, illustr. XLV.).]
whom he censures, and we may gather that that ignorance was thought to
be especially shown in a crude pantheism and a doctrine of incarnation
which, according to the Bāb, amounts to sheer polytheism.  [Footnote
4: The technical term is 'association.']  God in Himself, says the
Bāb, cannot be known, though a reflected image of Him is attainable
by taking heed to His manifestations or perfect portraitures.

Some variety of Ṣufism, however, sweetly and strongly permeates the
teaching of the Bāb.  It is a Ṣufism which consists, not in
affiliation to any Ṣufi order, but in the knowledge and love of the
Source of the Eternal Ideals. Through detachment from this perishable
world and earnest seeking for the Eternal, a glimpse of the unseen
Reality can be attained. The form of this only true knowledge is
subject to change; fresh 'mirrors' or 'portraits' are provided at the
end of each recurring cosmic cycle or aeon. But the substance is
unchanged and unchangeable. As Prof. Browne remarks, 'the prophet of a
cycle is naught but a reflexion of the Primal Will,--the same sun with
a new horizon.'  [Footnote: _NH_, p. 335.]


THE BĀB

Such a prophet was the Bāb; we call him 'prophet' for want of a
better name; 'yea, I say unto you, a prophet and more than a prophet.'
His combination of mildness and power is so rare that we have to place
him in a line with super-normal men. But he was also a great mystic
and an eminent theosophic speculator. We learn that, at great points
in his career, after he had been in an ecstasy, such radiance of might
and majesty streamed from his countenance that none could bear to look
upon the effulgence of his glory and beauty. Nor was it an uncommon
occurrence for unbelievers involuntarily to bow down in lowly
obeisance on beholding His Holiness; while the inmates of the castle,
though for the most part Christians and Sunnis, reverently prostrated
themselves whenever they saw the visage of His Holiness.  [Footnote:
_NH_, pp. 241, 242.]  Such transfiguration is well known to the
saints. It was regarded as the affixing of the heavenly seal to the
reality and completeness of Bāb's detachment. And from the Master we
learn [Footnote: Mirza Jani (_NH_, p. 242).]  that it passed to
his disciples in proportion to the degree of their renunciation. But
these experiences were surely characteristic, not only of Bābism,
but of Ṣufism. Ecstatic joy is the dominant note of Ṣufism, a joy
which was of other-worldly origin, and compatible with the deepest
tranquillity, and by which we are made like to the Ever-rejoicing
One. The mystic poet Far'idu'd-din writes thus,--

  Joy! joy! I triumph now; no more I know
  Myself as simply me. I burn with love.
  The centre is within me, and its wonder
  Lies as a circle everywhere about me. [a]

  [Footnote a: Hughes, _Dict. of Islam_, p. 618 _b_.]

And of another celebrated Ṣufi Sheykh (Ibnu'l Far'id) his son writes
as follows: 'When moved to ecstasy by listening [to devotional
recitations and chants] his face would increase in beauty and
radiance, while the perspiration dripped from all his body until it
ran under his feet into the ground.'  [Footnote: Browne, _Literary
History of Persia_, ii. 503.]


EFFECT OF ṢUFISM

Ṣufism, however, which in the outset was a spiritual pantheism,
combined with quietism, developed in a way that was by no means so
satisfactory.  The saintly mystic poet Abu Sa'id had defined it thus:
'To lay aside what thou hast in thy head (desires and ambitions), and
to give away what thou hast in thy hand, and not to flinch from
whatever befalls thee.'  [Footnote: _Ibid_. ii. 208.]  This is,
of course, not intended as a complete description, but shows that the
spirit of the earlier Ṣufism was profoundly ethical. Count Gobineau,
however, assures us that the Ṣufism which he knew was both
enervating and immoral. Certainly the later Ṣufi poets were inclined
to overpress symbolism, and the luscious sweetness of the poetry may
have been unwholesome for some--both for poets and for readers. Still
I question whether, for properly trained readers, this evil result
should follow. The doctrine of the impermanence of all that is not God
and that love between two human hearts is but a type of the love
between God and His human creatures, and that the supreme happiness is
that of identification with God, has never been more alluringly
expressed than by the Ṣufi poets.

The Ṣufis, then, are true forerunners of the Bāb and his
successors. There are also two men, Muslims but no Ṣufis, who have a
claim to the same title. But I must first of all do honour to an
Indian Ṣufi.


INAYAT KHAN

The message of this noble company has been lately brought to the West.
[Footnote: _Message Soufi de la Liberté Spirituelle_ (Paris,
1913).]  The bearer, who is in the fulness of youthful strength, is
Inayat Khan, a member of the Ṣufi Order, a practised speaker, and
also devoted to the traditional sacred music of India. His own teacher
on his death-bed gave him this affecting charge: 'Goest thou abroad
into the world, harmonize the East and the West with thy music; spread
the knowledge of Ṣufism, for thou art gifted by Allah, the Most
Merciful and Compassionate.' So, then, Vivekananda, Abdu'l Baha, and
Inayat Khan, not to mention here several Buddhist monks, are all
missionaries of Eastern religious culture to Western, and two of these
specially represent Persia. We cannot do otherwise than thank God for
the concordant voice of Bahaite and Ṣufite. Both announce the
Evangel of the essential oneness of humanity which will one day--and
sooner than non-religious politicians expect--be translated into fact,
and, as the first step towards this 'desire of all nations,' they
embrace every opportunity of teaching the essential unity of
religions:

  Pagodas, just as mosques, are homes of prayer,
  'Tis prayer that church-bells chime unto the air;
  Yea, Church and Ka'ba, Rosary and Cross,
  Are all but divers tongues of world-wide prayer. [a]

  [Footnote a: Whinfield's translation of the quatrains of Omar
  Khayyám, No. 22 (34).]

So writes a poet (Omar Khayyám) whom Inayat Khan claims as a Ṣufi,
and who at any rate seems to have had Ṣufi intervals. Unmixed
spiritual prayer may indeed be uncommon, but we may hope that prayer
with no spiritual elements at all is still more rare. It is the object
of prophets to awaken the consciousness of the people to its spiritual
needs. Of this class of men Inayat Khan speaks thus,--

'The prophetic mission was to bring into the world the Divine Wisdom,
to apportion it to the world according to that world's comprehension,
to adapt it to its degree of mental evolution as well as to dissimilar
countries and periods. It is by this adaptability that the many
religions which have emanated from the same moral principle differ the
one from the other, and it is by this that they exist. In fact, each
prophet had for his mission to prepare the world for the teaching of
the prophet who was to succeed him, and each of them foretold the
coming of his successor down to Mahomet, the last messenger of the
divine Wisdom, and as it were the look-out point in which all the
prophetic cycle was centred. For Mahomet resumed the divine Wisdom in
this proclamation, "Nothing exists, God alone is,"--the final message
whither the whole line of the prophets tended, and where the
boundaries of religions and philosophies took their start.  With this
message prophetic interventions are henceforth useless.

'The Ṣufi has no prejudice against any prophet, and, contrary to
those who only love one to hate the other, the Ṣufi regards them all
as the highest attribute of God, as Wisdom herself, present under the
appearance of names and forms.  He loves them with all his worship,
for the lover worships the Beloved in all Her garments....  It is thus
that the Ṣufis contemplate their Well-beloved, Divine Wisdom, in all
her robes, in her different ages, and under all the names that she
bears,--Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Mahomet.'  [Footnote: _Message Soufi
de la Liberté_ (Paris, 1913), pp. 34, 35.]

The idea of the equality of the members of the world-wide prophethood,
the whole body of prophets being the unique personality of Divine
Wisdom, is, in my judgment, far superior to the corresponding theory
of the exclusive Muḥammadan orthodoxy. That theory is that each
prophet represents an advance on his predecessor, whom he therefore
supersedes. Now, that Muḥammad as a prophet was well adapted to the
Arabians, I should be most unwilling to deny. I am also heartily of
opinion that a Christian may well strengthen his own faith by the
example of the fervour of many of the Muslims. But to say that the
Ḳur'an is superior to either the Old Testament or the New is,
surely, an error, only excusable on the ground of ignorance. It is
true, neither of Judaism nor of Christianity were the representatives
in Muḥammad's time such as we should have desired; ignorance on
Muḥammad's part was unavoidable. But unavoidable also was the
anti-Islamic reaction, as represented especially by the Order of the
Ṣufis. One may hope that both action and reaction may one day become
unnecessary. _That_ will depend largely on the Bahais.

It is time, however, to pass on to those precursors of Bābism who
were neither Ṣufites nor Zoroastrians, but who none the less
continued the line of the national religious development. The majority
of Persians were Shi'ites; they regarded Ali and the 'Imāms' as
virtually divine manifestations.  This at least was their point of
union; otherwise they fell into two great divisions, known as the
'Sect of the Seven' and the 'Sect of the Twelve' respectively. Mirza
Ali Muḥammad belonged by birth to the latter, which now forms the
State-religion of Persia, but there are several points in his doctrine
which he held in common with the former (i.e. the Ishma'ilis).
These are--'the successive incarnations of the Universal Reason, the
allegorical interpretation of Scripture, and the symbolism of every
ritual form and every natural phenomenon.  [Footnote: _NH_,
introd.  p. xiii.]  The doctrine of the impermanence of all that is
not God, and that love between two human hearts is but a type of the
love between God and his human creatures, and the bliss of
self-annihilation, had long been inculcated in the most winning manner
by the Ṣufis.


SHEYKH AḤMAD

Yet they were no Ṣufis, but precursors of Bābism in a more
thorough and special sense, and both were Muslims. The first was
Sheykh Aḥmad of Aḥsa, in the province of Baḥrein. He knew full
well that he was chosen of God to prepare men's hearts for the
reception of the more complete truth shortly to be revealed, and that
through him the way of access to the hidden twelfth Imām Mahdi was
reopened. But he did not set this forth in clear and unmistakable
terms, lest 'the unregenerate' should turn again and rend him.
According to a Shi'ite authority he paid two visits to Persia, in one
of which he was in high favour with the Court, and received as a
yearly subsidy from the Shah's son the sum of 700 tumans, and in the
other, owing chiefly to a malicious colleague, his theological
doctrines brought him into much disrepute. Yet he lived as a pious
Muslim, and died in the odour of sanctity, as a pilgrim to Mecca.
[Footnote: See _AMB_ (Nicolas), pp. 264-272; _NH_, pp. 235,
236.]

One of his opponents (Mullā 'Ali) said of him that he was 'an
ignorant man with a pure heart.'  Well, ignorant we dare not call him,
except with a big qualification, for his aim required great knowledge;
it was nothing less than the reconciliation of all truth, both
metaphysical and scientific.  Now he had certainly taken much trouble
about truth, and had written many books on philosophy and the sciences
as understood in Islamic countries.  We can only qualify our eulogy by
admitting that he was unaware of the limitations of human nature, and
of the weakness of Persian science.  Pure in heart, however, he was;
no qualification is needed here, except it be one which Mullā 'Ali
would not have regarded as requiring any excuse.  For purity he (like
many others) understood in a large sense. It was the reward of
courageous 'buffeting' and enslaving of the body; he was an austere
ascetic.

He had a special devotion to Ja'far-i-Ṣadiḳ, [Footnote: _TN_,
p. 297.]  the sixth Imām, whose guidance he believed himself to
enjoy in dreams, and whose words he delighted to quote. Of course,
'Ali was the director of the council of the Imāms, but the
councillors were not much less, and were equally faithful as mirrors
of the Supreme. This remains true, even if 'Ali be regarded as himself
the Supreme God [Footnote: The Sheykh certainly tended in the
direction of the sect of the 'Ali-Ilabis (_NH_, p. 142; Kremer,
_Herrschende Ideen des Islams_, p. 31), who belonged to the _ghulat_
or extreme Shi'ites (Browne, _Lit. Hist. of Persia_, p. 310).]
identical with Allah or with the Ormazd (Ahura-Mazda) of the
Zoroastrians.  For the twelve Imāms were all of the rank of
divinities. Not that they were 'partners' with God; they were simply
manifestations of the Invisible God. But they were utterly veracious
Manifestations; in speaking of Allah (as the Sheykh taught) wer may
venture to intend 'Ali.  [Footnote: The Sheykh held that in reciting
the opening _sura_ of the Ḳur'an the worshipper should think of
'Ali, should intend 'Ali, as his God.]

This explains how the Sheykh can have taught that the Imāms took
part in creation and are agents in the government of the world. In
support of this he quoted Ḳur'an, Sur. xxiii. 14, 'God the best of
Creators,' and, had he been a broader and more scientific theologian,
might have mentioned how the Amshaspands (Ameshaspentas) are grouped
with Ormazd in the creation-story of Zoroastrianism, and how, in that
of Gen. i., the Director of the Heavenly Council says, 'Let _us_
make man.'  [Footnote: Genesis i. 22.]

The Sheykh also believed strongly in the existence of a subtle body
which survives the dissolution of the palpable, material body,
[Footnote: _TN_, p. 236.]  and will alone be visible at the
Resurrection. Nothing almost gave more offence than this; it seemed to
be only a few degrees better than the absolute denial of the
resurrection-body ventured upon by the Akhbaris.  [Footnote: Gobineau,
pp. 39, 40.]  And yet the notion of a subtle, internal body, a notion
which is Indian as well as Persian, has been felt even by many
Westerns to be for them the only way to reconcile reason and faith.


SEYYID KAẒIM--ISLAM--PARSIISM--BUDDHISM

On Aḥmad's death the unanimous choice of the members of the school
fell on Seyyid (Sayyid) Kaẓim of Resht, who had been already
nominated by the Sheykh. He pursued the same course as his
predecessor, and attracted many inquirers and disciples. Among the
latter was the lady Kurratu'l 'Ayn, born in a town where the Sheykhi
sect was strong, and of a family accustomed to religious controversy.
He was not fifty when he died, but his career was a distinguished one.
Himself a Gate, he discerned the successor by whom he was to be
overshadowed, and he was the teacher of the famous lady referred
to. To what extent 'Ali Muḥammad (the subsequent Bāb) was
instructed by him is uncertain. It was long enough no doubt to make
him a Sheykhite and to justify 'Ali Muḥammad in his own eyes for
raising Sheykh Aḥmad and the Seyyid Kaẓim to the dignity of Bāb.
[Footnote: _AMB_, pp. 91, 95; cp. _NH_, p. 342.]

There seems to be conclusive evidence that Seyyid Kaẓim adverted
often near the close of life to the divine Manifestation which he
believed to be at hand. He was fond of saying, 'I see him as the
rising sun.' He was also wont to declare that the 'Proof' would be a
youth of the race of Hashim, i.e. a kinsman of Muḥammad,
untaught in the learning of men. Of a dream which he heard from an
Arab (when in Turkish Arabia), he said, 'This dream signifies that my
departure from the world is near at hand'; and when his friends wept
at this, he remonstrated with them, saying, 'Why are ye troubled in
mind?  Desire ye not that I should depart, and that the truth [in
person] should appear?'  [Footnote: _NH_, p. 31.]

I leave it an open question whether Seyyid Kaẓim had actually fixed
on the person who was to be his successor, and to reflect the Supreme
Wisdom far more brilliantly than himself. But there is no reason to
doubt that he regarded his own life and labours as transitional, and
it is possible that by the rising sun of which he loved to speak he
meant that strange youth of Shiraz who had been an irregular attendant
at his lectures. Very different, it is true, is the Muḥammadan
legend.  It states that 'Ali Muḥammad was present at Karbala from
the death of the Master, that he came to an understanding with members
of the school, and that after starting certain miracle-stories, all of
them proceeded to Mecca, to fulfil the predictions which connected the
Prophet-Messiah with that Holy City, where, with bared sabre, he would
summon the peoples to the true God.

This will, I hope, suffice to convince the reader that both the Ṣufi
Order and the Sheykhite Sect were true forerunners of Bābism and
Bahaism.  He will also readily admit that, for the Ṣufis especially,
the connexion with a church of so weak a historic sense was most
unfortunate. It would be the best for all parties if Muslims both
within and without the Ṣufi Order accepted a second home in a church
(that of Abha) whose historical credentials are unexceptionable,
retaining membership of the old home, so as to be able to reform from
within, but superadding membership of the new. Whether this is
possible on a large scale, the future must determine. It will not be
possible if those who combine the old home with a new one become
themselves thereby liable to persecution. It will not even be
desirable unless the new-comers bring with them doctrinal (I do not
say dogmatic) contributions to the common stock of Bahai
truths--contributions of those things for which alone in their hearts
the immigrant Muslim brothers infinitely care.

It will be asked, What are, to a Muslim, and especially to a Shi'ite
Muslim, infinitely precious things? I will try to answer this
question.  First of all, in time of trouble, the Muslim certainly
values as a 'pearl of great price' the Mercifulness and Compassion of
God. Those who believingly read the Ḳur'an or recite the opening
prayer, and above all, those who pass through deep waters, cannot do
otherwise. No doubt the strict justice of God, corresponding to and
limited by His compassion, is also a true jewel. We may admit that the
judicial severity of Allah has received rather too much stress; still
there must be occasions on which, from earthly caricatures of justice
pious Muslims flee for refuge in their thoughts to the One Just
Judge. Indeed, the great final Judgment is, to a good Muslim, a much
stronger incentive to holiness than the sensuous descriptions of
Paradise, which indeed he will probably interpret symbolically.

The true Muslim will be charitable even to the lower animals.
[Footnote: Nicholson, _The Mystics of Islam_, p. 108.]  Neither
poor-law nor Society for the Protection of Animals is required in
Muslim countries. How soon organizations arose for the care of the
sick, and, in war-time, of the wounded, it would be difficult to say;
for Buddhists and Hindus were of course earlier in the field than
Muslims, inheriting as they did an older moral culture. In the Muslim
world, however, the twelfth century saw the rise of the Kadirite
Order, with its philanthropic procedure.  [Footnote: D. S.
Margoliouth, _Mohammedanism_, pp. 211-212.]  Into the ideal of man, as
conceived by our Muslim brothers, there must therefore enter the
feature of mercifulness.  We cannot help sympathizing with this, even
though we think Abdul Baha's ideal richer and nobler than any as yet
conceived by any Muslim saint.

There is also the idea--the realized idea--of brotherhood, a
brotherhood which is simply an extension of the equality of Arabian
tribesmen.  There is no caste in Islam; each believer stands in the
same relation to the Divine Sovereign.  There may be poor, but it is
the rich man's merit to relieve them. There may be slaves, but slaves
and masters are religiously one, and though there are exceptions to
the general kindliness of masters and mistresses, it is in East Africa
that these lamentable inconsistencies are mostly found. The Muslim
brothers who may join the Bahais will not find it hard to shake off
their moral weaknesses, and own themselves brothers of their servants.
Are we not all (they will say) sons of Adam?  Lastly, there is the
character of Muḥammad.  Perfect he was not, but Baha'ullah was
hardly quite fair to Muḥammad when (if we may trust a tradition) he
referred to the Arabian prophet as a camel-driver. It is a most
inadequate description.  He had a 'rare beauty and sweetness of
nature' to which he joined a 'social and political genius' and
'towering manhood.'  [Footnote: Sister Nivedita, _The Web of Indian
Life_, pp. 242, 243.]

These are the chief contributions which Muslim friends and lovers will
be able to make; these, the beliefs which we shall hold more firmly
through our brothers' faith. Will Muslims accept as well as proffer
gifts? Speaking of a Southern Morocco Christian mission, S. L.
Bensusan admits that it does not make Christians out of Moors, but
claims that it 'teaches the Moors to live finer lives within the
limits of their own faith.'  [Footnote: _Morocco_ (A. & C. Black),
p. 164.]

I should like to say something here about the sweetness of
Muḥammad. It appears not only in his love for his first wife and
benefactress, Khadijah, but in his affection for his daughter,
Fatima. This affection has passed over to the Muslims, who call her
very beautifully 'the Salutation of all Muslims.' The Bābis affirm
that Fatima returned to life in their own great heroine.

There is yet another form of religion that I must not neglect--the
Zoroastrian or Parsi faith.  Far as this faith may have travelled from
its original spirituality, it still preserved in the Bāb's time some
elements of truth which were bound to become a beneficial leaven. This
high and holy faith (as represented in the Gathas) was still the
religion of the splendour or glory of God, still the champion of the
Good Principle against the Evil.  As if to show his respectful
sympathy for an ancient and persecuted religion the Bāb borrowed
some minor points of detail from his Parsi neighbours. Not on these,
however, would I venture to lay any great stress, but rather on the
doctrines and beliefs in which a Parsi connexion may plausibly be
held. For instance, how can we help tracing a parallel between 'Ali
and the Imams on the one hand and Ahura-Mazda (Ormazd) and his council
of Amshaspands (Amesha-spentas) on the other? The founders of both
religions conceived it to be implied in the doctrine of the Divine
Omnipresence that God should be represented in every place by His
celestial councillors, who would counteract the machinations of the
Evil Ones.  For Evil Ones there are; so at least Islam holds.  Their
efforts are foredoomed to failure, because their kingdom has no unity
or cohesion. But strange mystic potencies they have, as all pious
Muslims think, and we must remember that 'Ali Muḥammad (the Bāb)
was bred up in the faith of Islam.

Well, then, we can now proceed further and say that our Parsi friends
can offer us gifts worth the having. When they rise in the morning
they know that they have a great warfare to wage, and that they are
not alone, but have heavenly helpers.  This form of representation is
not indeed the only one, but who shall say that we can dispense with
it? Even if evil be but the shadow of good, a _M̬aya_, an appearance,
yet must we not act as if it had a real existence, and combat it with
all our might?

May we also venture to include Buddhism among the religions which may
directly or indirectly have prepared the way for Bahaism?  We may; the
evidence is as follows. Manes, or Mani, the founder of the
widely-spread sect of the Manichaeans, who lived in the third century
of our era, writes thus in the opening of one of his books,--
[Footnote: _Literary History of Persia_, i. 103.]

'Wisdom and deeds have always from time to time been brought to
mankind by the messengers of God. So in one age they have been brought
by the messenger of God called Buddha to India, in another by
Zoroaster to Persia, in another by Jesus to the West. Thereafter this
revelation has come down, this prophecy in this last age, through me,
Mani, the Messenger of the God of Truth to Babylonia' ('Irak).

This is valid evidence for at least the period before that of Mani. We
have also adequate proofs of the continued existence of Buddhism in
Persia in the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries; indeed, we
may even assert this for Bactria and E. Persia with reference to
nearly 1000 years before the Muḥammadan conquest.  [Footnote:
R. A. Nicholson, _The Mystics_, p. 18. Cp. E. G. Browne,
_Lit. Hist. of Persia_, ii. 440 _ff_.]

Buddhism, then, battled for leave to do the world good in its own way,
though the intolerance of Islam too soon effaced its footprints. There
is still some chance, however, that Ṣufism may be a record of its
activity; in fact, this great religious upgrowth may be of Indian
rather than of Neoplatonic origin, so that the only question is
whether Ṣufism developed out of the Vedanta or out of the religious
philosophy of Buddhism.  That, however, is too complex a question to
be discussed here.

All honour to Buddhism for its noble effort.  In some undiscoverable
way Buddhists acted as pioneers for the destined Deliverer. Let us,
then, consider what precious spiritual jewels its sons and daughters
can bring to the new Fraternity.  There are many most inadequate
statements about Buddhism. Personally, I wish that such expressions as
'the cold metaphysic of Buddhism' might be abandoned; surely
metaphysicians, too, have religious needs and may have warm hearts.
At the same time I will not deny that I prefer the northern variety of
Buddhism, because I seem to myself to detect in the southern Buddhism
a touch of a highly-refined egoism. Self-culture may or may not be
combined with self-sacrifice.  In the case of the Buddha it was no
doubt so combined, as the following passage, indited by him, shows--

'All the means that can be used as bases for doing right are not worth
one sixteenth part of the emancipation of the heart through love. That
takes all those up into itself, outshining them in radiance and in
glory.'  [Footnote: Mrs. Rhys Davids, _Buddhism_, p. 229.]

What, then, are the jewels of the Buddhist which he would fain see in
the world's spiritual treasury?

He will tell you that he has many jewels, but that three of them stand
out conspicuously--the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. Of these
the first is 'Sakya Muni, called the Buddha (the Awakened One).' His
life is full of legend and mythology, but how it takes hold of the
reader! Must we not pronounce it the finest of religious narratives,
and thank the scholars who made the _Lalita Vistara_ known to us?
The Buddha was indeed a supernormal man; morally and physically he
must have had singular gifts.  To an extraordinary intellect he joined
the enthusiasm of love, and a thirst for service.

The second of the Buddhist brother's jewels is the Dharma, i.e.
the Law or Essential Rightness revealed by the Buddha. That the Master
laid a firm practical foundation for his religion cannot be denied,
and if Jews and Christians reverence the Ten Words given through
'Moses,' much more may Buddhists reverence the ten moral precepts of
Sakya Muni. Those, however, whose aim is Buddhaship (i.e. those
who propose to themselves the more richly developed ideal of northern
Buddhists) claim the right to modify those precepts just as Jesus
modified the Law of Moses. While, therefore, we recognize that good
has sometimes come even out of evil, we should also acknowledge the
superiority of Buddhist countries and of India in the treatment both
of other human beings and of the lower animals.

The Sangha, or Monastic Community, is the third treasure of Buddhism,
and the satisfaction of the Buddhist laity with the monastic body is
said to be very great. At any rate, the cause of education in Burma
owes much to the monks, but it is hard to realize how the Monastic
Community can be in the same sense a 'refuge' from the miseries of the
world as the Buddha or Dharmakâya.

The name Dharmakâya [Footnote: Johnston, _Buddhist China_,
p. 77.]  (Body of Dharma, or system of rightness) may strike strangely
upon our ears, but northern Buddhism makes much of it, and even though
it may not go back to Sakya Muni himself, it is a development of germs
latent in his teaching; and to my own mind there is no more wonderful
conception in the great religions than that of Dharmakâya. If any one
attacks our Buddhist friends for atheism, they have only to refer (if
they can admit a synthesis of northern and southern doctrines) to the
conception of Dharmakâya, of Him who is 'for ever Divine and
Eternal,' who is 'the One, devoid of all determinations.' 'This Body
of Dharma,' we are told, 'has no boundary, no quarters, but is
embodied in all bodies.... All forms of corporeality are involved
therein; it is able to create all things. Assuming any concrete
material form, as required by the nature and condition of karma, it
illuminates all creations.... There is no place in the universe where
this Body does not prevail.  The universe becomes dust; this Body for
ever remains. It is free from all opposites and contraries, yet it is
working in all things to lead them to Nirvana.'  [Footnote: Suzuki,
_Outlines_, pp. 223-24.]

In fact, this Dharmakâya is the ultimate principle of cosmic energy.
We may call it principle, but it is not, like Brahman, absolutely
impersonal.  Often it assumes personality, when it receives the name
of Tathagata. It has neither passions nor prejudices, but works for
the salvation of all sentient beings universally. Love (_karunâ_) and
intelligence (_bodhi_) are equally its characteristics.  It is only
the veil of illusion (_maya_) which prevents us from seeing
Dharmakâya in its magnificence.  When this veil is lifted, individual
existences as such will lose their significance; they will become
sublimated and ennobled in the oneness of Dharmakâya.  [Footnote:
_Ibid_. p. 179.]

Will the reader forgive me if I mention some other jewels of the
Buddhist faith? One is the Buddha Ami'tābha, and the other Kuanyin
or Kwannon, his son or daughter; others will be noted presently. The
latter is especially popular in China and Japan, and is generally
spoken of by Europeans as the 'Goddess of Mercy.' 'Goddess,' however,
is incorrect, [Footnote: Johnston, _Buddhist China_, p. 123.]
just as 'God' would be incorrect in the case of Ami'tābha. Sakya
Muni was considered greater than any of the gods.  All such Beings
were saviours and helpers to man, just as Jesus is looked up to by
Christian believers as a saviour and deliverer, and perhaps I might
add, just as there are, according to the seer-poet Dante, three
compassionate women (_donne_) in heaven.  [Footnote: Dante,
_D.C., Inf._ ii. 124 _f_. The 'blessed women' seem to be
Mary (the mother of Christ), Beatrice, and Lucia.]  Kwannon and her
Father may surely be retained by Chinese and Japanese, not as gods,
but as gracious _bodhisatts_ (i.e. Beings whose essence is
intelligence).

I would also mention here as 'jewels' of the Buddhists (1) their
tenderness for all living creatures. Legend tells of Sakya Muni that
in a previous state of existence he saved the life of a doe and her
young one by offering his own life as a substitute. In one of the
priceless panels of Bôrôbudûr in Java this legend is beautifully
used.  [Footnote: Havell, _Indian Sculpture and Painting_,
p. 123.]  It must indeed have been almost more impressive to the
Buddhists even than Buddha's precept.

  E'en as a mother watcheth o'er her child,
  Her only child, as long as life doth last,
  So let us, for all creatures great or small,
  Develop such a boundless heart and mind,
  Ay, let us practise love for all the world,
  Upward and downward, yonder, thence,
  Uncramped, free from ill-will and enmity.[a]

  [Footnote a: Mrs. Rhys Davids, _Buddhism_, p. 219.]

(2 and 3) Faith in the universality of inspiration and a hearty
admission that spiritual pre-eminence is open to women. As to the
former, Suzuki has well pointed out that Christ is conceived of by
Buddhists quite as the Buddha himself. [Footnote: Suzuki, _Outlines
of the Mahâyâna Buddhism_.] 'The Dharmakâya revealed itself as
Sakya Muni to the Indian mind, because that was in harmony with its
needs. The Dharmakâya appeared in the person of Christ on the Semitic
stage, because it suited their taste best in this way.' As to the
latter, there were women in the ranks of the Arahats in early times;
and, as the _Psalms of the Brethren_ show, there were even
child-Arahats, and, so one may presume, girl-Arahats.  And if it is
objected that this refers to the earlier and more flourishing period
of the Buddhist religion, yet it is in a perfectly modern summary of
doctrine that we find these suggestive words, [Footnote: Omoro in
_Oxford Congress of Religions, Transactions_, i. 152.] 'With this
desire even a maiden of seven summers [Footnote: 'The age of seven is
assigned to all at their ordination' (_Psalms of the Brethren_,
p. xxx.) The reference is to child-Arahats.] may be a leader of the
four multitudes of beings.' That spirituality has nothing to do with
the sexes is the most wonderful law in the teachings of the Buddhas.'

India being the home of philosophy, it is not surprising either that
Indian religion should take a predominantly philosophical form, or
that there should be a great variety of forms of Indian religion. This
is not to say that the feelings were neglected by the framers of
Indian theory, or that there is any essential difference between the
forms of Indian religion. On the contrary, love and intelligence are
inseparably connected in that religion and there are fundamental ideas
which impart a unity to all the forms of Hindu religion.  That form of
religion, however, in which love (_karunâ_) receives the highest
place, and becomes the centre conjointly with intelligence of a theory
of emancipation and of perfect Buddhahood, is neither Vedantism nor
primitive Buddhism, but that later development known as the
Mahâyâna.  Germs indeed there are of the later theory; and how
should there not be, considering the wisdom and goodness of those who
framed those systems?  How beautiful is that ancient description of
him who would win the joy of living in Brahma (Tagore, _Sadhanâ_,
p. 106), and not much behind it is the following passage of the
Bhagavad-Gita, 'He who hates no single being, who is friendly and
compassionate to all ... whose thought and reason are directed to Me,
he who is [thus] devoted to Me is dear to Me' (Discourse xii. 13, 14).
This is a fine utterance, and there are others as fine.

One may therefore expect that most Indian Vedantists will, on entering
the Bahai Society, make known as widely as they can the beauties of
the Bhagavad-Gita. I cannot myself profess that I admire the contents
as much as some Western readers, but much is doubtless lost to me
through my ignorance of Sanskrit. Prof.  Garbe and Prof. Hopkins,
however, confirm me in my view that there is often a falling off in
the immediateness of the inspiration, and that many passages have been
interpolated. It is important to mention this here because it is
highly probable that in future the Scriptures of the various churches
and sects will be honoured by being read, not less devotionally but
more critically.  Not the Bibles as they stand at present are
revealed, but the immanent Divine Wisdom. Many things in the outward
form of the Scriptures are, for us, obsolete. It devolves upon us, in
the spirit of filial respect, to criticize them, and so help to clear
the ground for a new prophet.

A few more quotations from the fine Indian Scriptures shall be
given. Their number could be easily increased, and one cannot blame
those Western admirers of the Gita who display almost as fervent an
enthusiasm for the unknown author of the Gita as Dante had for his
_savio duca_ in his fearsome pilgrimage.


THE BHAGAVAD-GITA AND THE UPANISHADS

Such criticism was hardly possible in England, even ten or twenty
years ago, except for the Old Testament. Some scholars, indeed, had
had their eyes opened, but even highly cultured persons in the
lay-world read the Bhagavad-Gita with enthusiastic admiration but
quite uncritically.  Much as I sympathize with Margaret Noble (Sister
Nivedita), Jane Hay (of St. Abb's, Berwickshire, N.B.), and Rose
R. Anthon, I cannot desire that their excessive love for the Gita
should find followers. I have it on the best authority that the
apparent superiority of the Indian Scriptures to those of the
Christian world influenced Margaret Noble to become 'Sister
Nivedita'--a great result from a comparatively small cause. And Miss
Anthon shows an excess of enthusiasm when she puts these words
(without note or comment) into the mouth of an Indian student:--

'But now, O sire, I have found all the wealth and treasure and honour
of the universe in these words that were uttered by the King of Kings,
the Lover of Love, the Giver of Heritages.  There is nothing I ask
for; no need is there in my being, no want in my life that this Gita
does not fill to overflowing.'  [Footnote: _Stories of India_,
1914, p. 138.]

There are in fact numerous passages in the Gita which, united, would
form a _Holy Living_ and a _Holy Dying_, if we were at the
pains to add to the number of the passages a few taken from the
Upanishads. Vivekananda and Rabindranath Tagore have already studded
their lectures with jewels from the Indian Scriptures.  The Hindus
themselves delight in their holy writings, but if these writings are
to become known in the West, the grain must first be sifted.  In other
words, there must be literary and perhaps also (I say it humbly) moral
criticism.

I will venture to add a few quotations:--

'Whenever there is a decay of religion, O Bhâratas, and an ascendency
of irreligion, then I manifest myself.

'For the protection of the good, for the destruction of evildoers, for
the firm establishment of religion, I am born in every age.'

The other passages are not less noble.

'They also who worship other gods and make offering to them with
faith, O son of Kunti, do verily make offering to me, though not
according to ordinance.'

'Never have I not been, never hast thou, and never shall time yet come
when we shall not all be. That which pervades this universe is
imperishable; there is none can make to perish that changeless
being. This never is born, and never dies, nor may it after being come
again to be not; this unborn, everlasting, abiding, Ancient, is not
slain when the body is slain.  Knowing This to be imperishable,
everlasting, unborn, changeless, how and whom can a man make to be
slain or slay? As a man lays aside outworn garments, and takes others
that are new, so the Body-Dweller puts away outworn bodies and goes to
others that are new. Everlasting is This, dwelling in all things,
firm, motionless, ancient of days.'


JUDAISM

Judaism, too, is so rich in spiritual treasures that I hesitate to
single out more than a very few jewels. It is plain, however, that it
needs to be reformed, and that this need is present in many of the
traditional forms which enshrine so noble a spiritual experience. The
Sabbath, for instance, is as the apple of his eye to every
true-hearted Jew; he addresses it in his spiritual songs as a
Princess.  And he does well; the title Princess belongs of right to
'Shabbath.' For the name--be it said in passing--is probably a
corruption of a title of the Mother-goddess Ashtart, and it would, I
think, have been no blameworthy act if the religious transformers of
Israelite myths had made a special myth, representing Shabbath as a
man. When the Messiah comes, I trust that _He_ will do this.  For
'the Son of Man is Lord also of the Sabbath.'

The faith of the Messiah is another of Israel's treasures. Or rather,
perhaps I should say, the faith in the Messiahs, for one Messiah will
not meet the wants of Israel or the world. The Messiah, or the
Being-like-a-man (Dan. vii. 13), is a supernatural Being, who appears
on earth when he is wanted, like the Logos. We want Messiah badly now;
specially, I should say, we Christians want 'great-souled ones'
(Mahatmas), who can 'guide us into all the truth' (John xvi. 13). That
they have come in the past, I doubt not. God could not have left his
human children in the lurch for all these centuries.  One thousand
Jews of Tihran are said to have accepted Baha'ullah as the expected
Messiah.  They were right in what they affirmed, and only wrong in
what they denied. And are we not all wrong in virtually denying the
Messiahship of women-leaders like Kurratu'l 'Ayn; at least, I have
only met with this noble idea in a work of Fiona Macleod.


CHRISTIANITY


And what of our own religion?

What precious jewels are there which we can share with our Oriental
brethren? First of all one may mention that wonderful picture of the
divine-human Saviour, which, full of mystery as it is, is capable of
attracting to its Hero a fervent and loving loyalty, and melting the
hardest heart.  We have also a portrait (implicit in the Synoptic
Gospels)--the product of nineteenth century criticism--of the same
Jesus Christ, and yet who could venture to affirm that He really was
the same, or that a subtle aroma had not passed away from the Life of
lives? In this re-painted portrait we have, no longer a divine man,
but simply a great and good Teacher and a noble Reformer.  This
portrait too is in its way impressive, and capable of lifting men
above their baser selves, but it would obviously be impossible to take
this great Teacher and Reformer for the Saviour and Redeemer of
mankind.

We have further a pearl of great price in the mysticism of Paul, which
presupposes, not the Jesus of modern critics, nor yet the Jesus of the
Synoptics, but a splendid heart-uplifting Jesus in the colours of
mythology. In this Jesus Paul lived, and had a constant ecstatic joy
in the everlasting divine work of creation. He was 'crucified with
Christ,' and it was no longer Paul that lived, but Christ that lived
in him. And the universe--which was Paul's, inasmuch as it was
Christ's--was transformed by the same mysticism.  'It was,' says
Evelyn Underhill, [Footnote: _The Mystic Way_, p. 194 (chap. iii.
'St. Paul and the Mystic Way').]  'a universe soaked through and
through by the Presence of God: that transcendent-immanent Reality,
"above all, and through all, and in you all" as fontal "Father,"
energising "Son," indwelling "Spirit," in whom every mystic, Christian
or non-Christian, is sharply aware that "we live and move and have our
being." To his extended consciousness, as first to that of Jesus, this
Reality was more actual than anything else--"God is all in all."'

It is true, this view of the Universe as God-filled is probably not
Paul's, for the Epistles to the Ephesians and Colossians are hardly
that great teacher's work. But it is none the less authentic, 'God is
all and in all'; the whole Universe is temporarily a symbol by which
God is at once manifested and veiled. I fear we have largely lost
this. It were therefore better to reconquer this truth by India's
help. Probably indeed the initial realization of the divinity of the
universe (including man) is due to an increased acquaintance with the
East and especially with Persia and India.

And I venture to think that Catholic Christians have conferred a boon
on their Protestant brethren by emphasizing the truth of the feminine
element (see pp. 31, 37) in the manifestation of the Deity, just as
the Chinese and Japanese Buddhists have done for China and Japan, and
the modern reformers of Indian religion have done for India.  This too
is a 'gem of purest ray.'



PART II

BIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL


SEYYID 'ALI MUḤAMMAD (THE BĀB)

Seyyid 'Ali Muḥammad was born at Hafiz' city.  It was not his lot,
however, to rival that great lyric poet; God had far other designs for
him.  Like St. Francis, he had a merchant for his father, but this too
was widely apart from 'AH Muḥammad's destiny, which was neither more
nor less than to be a manifestation of the Most High. His birthday was
on the 1st Muḥarrem, A.H. 1236 (March 26, A.D. 1821). His maternal
uncle, [Footnote: This relative of the Bāb is mentioned in
Baha-'ullah's _Book of Ighan_, among the men of culture who
visited Baha-'ullah at Baghdad and laid their difficulties before
him. His name was Seyyid 'Ali Muḥammad (the same name as the
Bāb's).]  however, had to step in to take a father's place; he was
early left an orphan. When eighteen or nineteen years of age he was
sent, for commercial reasons, to Bushire, a place with a villainous
climate on the Persian Gulf, and there he wrote his first book, still
in the spirit of Shi'ite orthodoxy.

It was in A.D. 1844 that a great change took place, not so much in
doctrine as in the outward framework of Ali Muḥammad's life. That
the twelfth Imam should reappear to set up God's beneficent kingdom,
that his 'Gate' should be born just when tradition would have him to
be born, was perhaps not really surprising; but that an ordinary lad
of Shiraz should be chosen for this high honour was exciting, and
would make May 23rd a day memorable for ever.  [Footnote: _TN_,
pp. 3 (n.1), 220 _f_.; cp. _AMB_, p. 204.]

It was, in fact, on this day (at 2.5 A.M.) that, having turned to God
for help, he cried out, 'God created me to instruct these ignorant
ones, and to save them from the error into which they are plunged.'
And from this time we cannot doubt that the purifying west wind
breathed over the old Persian land which needed it so sadly.

It is probable, however, that the reformer had different ideas of
discipleship. In one of his early letters he bids his correspondent
take care to conceal his religion until he can reveal it without
fear. Among his chief disciples were that gallant knight called the
'Gate's Gate,' Ḳuddus, and his kind uncle. Like most religious
leaders he attached great worth to pilgrimages. He began by journeying
to the Shi'ite holy places, consecrated by the events of the Persian
Passion-play.  Then he embarked at Bushire, accompanied (probably) by
Ḳuddus. The winds, however, were contrary, and he was glad to rest a
few days at Mascat. It is probable that at Mecca (the goal of his
journey) he became completely detached from the Muḥammadan form of
Islam.  There too he made arrangements for propaganda.  Unfavourable
as the times seemed, his disciples were expected to have the courage
of their convictions, and even his uncle, who was no longer young,
became a fisher of men. This, it appears to me, is the true
explanation of an otherwise obscure direction to the uncle to return
to Persia by the overland route, _via_ Baghdad, 'with the verses
which have come down from God.'

The overland route would take the uncle by the holy places of 'Irak;
'Ali [Muh.]ammad's meaning therefore really is that his kinsman is to
have the honour of evangelizing the important city of Baghdad, and of
course the pilgrims who may chance to be at Karbala and Nejef. These
were, to Shi'ites, the holiest of cities, and yet the reformer had the
consciousness that there was no need of searching for a
_kibla_. God was everywhere, but if one place was holier than
another, it was neither Jerusalem nor Mecca, but Shiraz.  To this
beautiful city he returned, nothing loth, for indeed the manners of
the pilgrims were the reverse of seemly. His own work was purely
spiritual: it was to organize an attack on a foe who should have been,
but was no longer, spiritual.

Among his first steps was sending the 'First to Believe' to Isfahan to
make a conquest of the learned Mullā Muḳaddas. His expectation was
fully realized. Muḳaddas was converted, and hastened to Shiraz,
eager to prove his zeal. His orders were (according to one tradition)
to introduce the name of 'Ali Muḥammad into the call to prayer
(_azan_) and to explain a passage in the commentary on the Sura
of Joseph. This was done, and the penalty could not be delayed.  After
suffering insults, which to us are barely credible, Muḳaddas and his
friend found shelter for three days in Shiraz in the Bāb's house.

It should be noted that I here employ the symbolic name 'the Bāb.'
There is a traditional saying of the prophet Muḥammad, 'I am the
city of knowledge, and 'Ali is its Gate.' It seems, however, that
there is little, if any, difference between 'Gate' (_Bāb_) and
'Point' (_nukta_), or between either of these and 'he who shall
arise' (_ka'im_) and 'the Imām Mahdi.' But to this we shall
return presently.

But safety was not long to be had by the Bāb or by his disciples
either in Shiraz or in Bushire (where the Bāb then was). A fortnight
afterwards twelve horsemen were sent by the governor of Fars to
Bushire to arrest the Bāb and bring him back to Shiraz. Such at
least is one tradition, [Footnote: _AMB_, p. 226.]  but some
Bābīs, according to Nicolas, energetically deny it. Certainly it
is not improbable that the governor, who had already taken action
against the Bābī missionaries, should wish to observe the Bāb
within a nearer range, and inflict a blow on his growing
popularity. Unwisely enough, the governor left the field open to the
mullas, who thought by placing the pulpit of the great mosque at his
disposal to be able to find material for ecclesiastical censure. But
they had left one thing out of their account--the ardour of the
Bāb's temperament and the depth of his conviction.  And so great was
the impression produced by the Bāb's sermon that the Shah
Muḥammad, who heard of it, sent a royal commissioner to study the
circumstances on the spot. This step, however, was a complete
failure. One may doubt indeed whether the Sayyid Yaḥya was ever a
politician or a courtier. See below, p. 90.

The state of things had now become so threatening that a peremptory
order to the governor was sent from the court to put an end to such a
display of impotence. It is said that the aid of assassins was not to
be refused; the death of the Bāb might then be described as 'a
deplorable accident.' The Bāb himself was liable at any moment to be
called into a conference of mullas and high state-officers, and asked
absurd questions. He got tired of this and thought he would change his
residence, especially as the cholera came and scattered the
population. Six miserable months he had spent in Shiraz, and it was
time for him to strengthen and enlighten the believers elsewhere. The
goal of his present journey was Isfahan, but he was not without hopes
of soon reaching Tihran and disabusing the mind of the Shah of the
false notions which had become lodged in it. So, after bidding
farewell to his relatives, he and his secretary and another well-tried
companion turned their backs on the petty tyrant of Shiraz.
[Footnote: _AMB_, p. 370.]  The Bāb, however, took a very wise
precaution. At the last posting station before Isfahan he wrote to
Minuchihr Khan, the governor (a Georgian by origin), announcing his
approach and invoking the governor's protection.

Minuchihr Khan, who was religiously openminded though not scrupulous
enough in the getting of money, [Footnote: _NH_, p. 346.]
granted this request, and sent word to the leading mullā (the
Imām-Jam'a) that he should proffer hospitality to this eminent
new-comer. This the Imām did, and so respectful was he for 'forty
days' that he used to bring the basin for his guest to wash his hands
at mealtimes.  [Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 372.]  The rapidity with
which the Bāb indited (or revealed) a commentary on a _sura_ of
the Ḳur'an greatly impressed him, but afterwards he gave way to the
persecuting tendencies of his colleagues, who had already learned to
dread the presence of Bābite missionaries. At the bidding of the
governor, however, who had some faith in the Bāb and hoped for the
best, a conference was arranged between the mullās and the Bāb
(poor man!) at the governor's house. The result was that Minuchihr
Khan declared that the mullās had by no means proved the reformer to
be an impostor, but that for the sake of peace he would at once send
the Bāb with an escort of horsemen to the capital. This was to all
appearance carried out. The streets were crowded as the band of
mounted men set forth, some of the Isfahanites (especially the
mullās) rejoicing, but a minority inwardly lamenting. This, however,
was only a blind. The governor cunningly sent a trusty horseman with
orders to overtake the travellers a short distance out of Isfahan, and
bring them by nightfall to the governor's secret apartments or (as
others say) to one of the royal palaces.  There the Bāb had still to
spend a little more than four untroubled halcyon months.

But a storm-cloud came up from the sea, no bigger than a man's hand,
and it spread, and the destruction wrought by it was great. On March
4, 1847, the French ambassador wrote home stating that the governor of
Isfahan had died, leaving a fortune of 40 million francs.  [Footnote:
_AMB_, p. 242.]  He could not be expected to add what the
Bābite tradition affirms, that the governor offered the Bāb all
his riches and even the rings on his fingers, [Footnote: _TN_,
pp. 12, 13, 264-8; _NH_, p. 402 (Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's narrative),
cp. pp. 211, 346.]  to which the prophet refers in the following
passage of his famous letter to Muḥammad Shah, written from Maku:

'The other question is an affair of this lower world. The late
Meu'timed [a title of Minuchihr Khan], one night, made all the
bystanders withdraw, ... then he said to me, "I know full well that
all that I have gained I have gotten by violence, and that belongs to
the Lord of the Age.  I give it therefore entirely to thee, for thou
art the Master of Truth, and I ask thy permission to become its
possessor." He even took off a ring which he had on his finger, and
gave it to me. I took the ring and restored it to him, and sent him
away in possession of all his goods.... I will not have a dinar of
those goods, but it is for you to ordain as shall seem good to
you.... [As witnesses] send for Sayyid Yaḥya [Footnote: See above,
p. 47.]  and Mullā Abdu'l-Khalik....  [Footnote: A disciple of
Sheykh Aḥmad. He became a Bābī, but grew lukewarm in the faith
(_NH_, pp. 231, 342 n.1).]  The one became acquainted with me
before the Manifestation, the other after.  Both know me right well;
this is why I have chosen them.'  [Footnote: _AMB_, pp. 372,
373.]

It was not likely, however, that the legal heir would waive his claim,
nor yet that the Shah or his minister would be prepared with a scheme
for distributing the ill-gotten riches of the governor among the poor,
which was probably what the Bāb himself wished. It should be added
(but not, of course, from this letter) that Minuchihr Khan also
offered the Bāb more than 5000 horsemen and footmen of the tribes
devoted to his interests, with whom he said that he would with all
speed march upon the capital, to enforce the Shah's acceptance of the
Bāb's mission. This offer, too, the Bāb rejected, observing that
the diffusion of God's truth could not be effected by such means. But
he was truly grateful to the governor who so often saved him from the
wrath of the mullās. 'God reward him,' he would say, 'for what he
did for me.'

Of the governor's legal heir and successor, Gurgin Khan, the Bāb
preserved a much less favourable recollection. In the same letter
which has been quoted from already he says: 'Finally, Gurgin made me
travel during seven nights without any of the necessaries of a
journey, and with a thousand lies and a thousand acts of violence.'
[Footnote: _AMB_, p. 371.]  In fact, after trying to impose upon
the Bāb by crooked talk, Gurgin, as soon as he found out where the
Bāb had taken refuge, made him start that same night, just as he
was, and without bidding farewell to his newly-married wife, for the
capital. 'So incensed was he [the Bāb] at this treatment that he
determined to eat nothing till he arrived at Kashan [a journey of five
stages], and in this resolution he persisted... till he reached the
second stage, Murchi-Khur. There, however, he met Mullā Sheykh
Ali... and another of his missionaries, whom he had commissioned two
days previously to proceed to Tihran; and then, on learning from his
guards how matters stood, succeeded in prevailing on him to take some
food.'  [Footnote: _NH_, pp. 348, 349.]

Certainly it was a notable journey, diversified by happy meetings with
friends and inquirers at Kashan, Khanliḳ, Zanjan, Milan, and Tabriz.
At Kashan the Bāb saw for the first time that fervent disciple, who
afterwards wrote the history of early Bābism, and his equally
true-hearted brother--merchants both of them. In fact, Mirza Jani
bribed the chief of the escort, to allow him for two days the felicity
of entertaining God's Messenger.  [Footnote: _Ibid_. pp. 213, 214.]
Khanliḳ has also--though a mere village--its honourable record, for
there the Bāb was first seen by two splendid youthful heroes
[Footnote: _Ibid_. pp. 96-101.]--Riza Khan (best hated of all the
Bābis) and Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali (better known as Baha-'ullah). At
Milan (which the Bāb calls 'one of the regions of Paradise'), as
Mirza Jani states, 'two hundred persons believed and underwent a true
and sincere conversion.'  [Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 221. Surely these
conversions were due, not to a supposed act of miraculous healing, but
to the 'majesty and dignity' of God's Messenger. The people were
expecting a Messiah, and here was a Personage who came up to the ideal
they had formed.]What meetings took place at Zanjan and Tabriz, the
early Bābi historian does not report; later on, Zanjan was a focus
of Bābite propagandism, but just then the apostle of the Zanjan
movement was summoned to Tihran. From Tabriz a remarkable cure is
reported, [Footnote: _NH_, p. 226.]  and as a natural consequence we
hear of many conversions.

The Bāb was specially favoured in the chief of his escort, who, in
the course of the journey, was fascinated by the combined majesty and
gentleness of his prisoner. His name was Muḥammad Beg, and his moral
portrait is thus limned by Mirza Jani: 'He was a man of kindly nature
and amiable character, and [became] so sincere and devoted a believer
that whenever the name of His Holiness was mentioned he would
incontinently burst into tears, saying,

  I scarcely reckon as life the days when to me thou wert all unknown,
  But by faithful service for what remains I may still for the past
    atone.'

It was the wish, both of the Bāb and of this devoted servant, that
the Master should be allowed to take up his residence (under
surveillance) at Tabriz, where there were already many Friends of
God. But such was not the will of the Shah and his vizier, who sent
word to Khanliḳ [Footnote: Khanliḳ is situated 'about six
parasangs' from Tihran (_NH_, p. 216).  It is in the province of
Azarbaijan.]  that the governor of Tabriz (Prince Bahman Mirza) should
send the Bāb in charge of a fresh escort to the remote
mountain-fortress of Maku. The faithful Muḥammad Beg made two
attempts to overcome the opposition of the governor, but in vain; how,
indeed, could it be otherwise? All that he could obtain was leave to
entertain the Bāb in his own house, where some days of rest were
enjoyed. 'I wept much at his departure,' says Muḥammad. No doubt the
Bāb often missed his respectful escort; he had made a change for the
worse, and when he came to the village at the foot of the steep hill
of Maku, he found the inhabitants 'ignorant and coarse.'

It may, however, be reasonably surmised that before long the Point of
Wisdom changed his tone, and even thanked God for his sojourn at
Maku. For though strict orders had come from the vizier that no one
was to be permitted to see the Bāb, any one whom the illustrious
captive wished to converse with had free access to him.  Most of the
time which remained was occupied with writing (his secretary was with
him); more than 100,000 'verses' are said to have come from that
Supreme Pen.

By miracles the Bāb set little store; in fact, the only supernatural
gift which he much valued was that of inditing 'signs or verses, which
appear to have produced a similar thrilling effect to those of the
great Arabian Prophet. But in the second rank he must have valued a
power to soothe and strengthen the nervous system which we may well
assign to him, and we can easily believe that the lower animals were
within the range of this beneficent faculty. Let me mention one of the
horse-stories which have gathered round the gentle form of the Bāb.
[Footnote: _AMB_, p. 371.]

It is given neither in the Bābī nor in the Muslim histories of
this period. But it forms a part of a good oral tradition, and it may
supply the key to those words of the Bāb in his letter to Muḥammad
Shah: [Footnote: Ibid. pp. 249, 250.]  'Finally, the Sultan
[i.e. the Shah] ordered that I should journey towards Maku without
giving me a horse that I could ride.' We learn from the legend that an
officer of the Shah did call upon the Bāb to ride a horse which was
too vicious for any ordinary person to mount. Whether this officer was
really (as the legend states) 'Ali Khan, the warden of Maku, who
wished to test the claims of 'Ali Muḥammad by offering him a vicious
young horse and watching to see whether 'Ali Muḥammad or the horse
would be victorious, is not of supreme importance.  What does concern
us is that many of the people believed that by a virtue which resided
in the Bāb it was possible for him to soothe the sensitive nerves of
a horse, so that it could be ridden without injury to the rider.

There is no doubt, however, that 'Ali Khan, the warden of the
fortress, was one of that multitude of persons who were so thrilled by
the Bāb's countenance and bearing that they were almost prompted
thereby to become disciples. It is highly probable, too, that just now
there was a heightening of the divine expression on that unworldly
face, derived from an intensification of the inner life. In earlier
times 'Ali Muḥammad had avoided claiming Mahdiship (Messiahship)
publicly; to the people at large he was not represented as the
manifested Twelfth Imâm, but only as the Gate, or means of access to
that more than human, still existent being. To disciples of a higher
order 'Ali Muḥammad no doubt disclosed himself as he really was,
but, like a heavenly statesman, he avoided inopportune self-revelations.
Now, however, the religious conditions were becoming different. Owing
in some cases to the indiscretion of disciples, in others to a craving
for the revolution of which the Twelfth Imâm was the traditional
instrument, there was a growing popular tendency to regard Mirza 'Ali
Muḥammad as a 'return' of the Twelfth Imâm, who was, by force of
arms, to set up the divine kingdom upon earth. It was this, indeed,
which specially promoted the early Bābī propagandism, and which
probably came up for discussion at the Badasht conference.

In short, it had become a pressing duty to enlighten the multitude on
the true objects of the Bāb. Even we can see this--we who know that
not much more than three years were remaining to him. The Bāb, too,
had probably a presentiment of his end; this was why he was so eager
to avoid a continuance of the great misunderstanding.  He was indeed
the Twelfth Imâm, who had returned to the world of men for a short
time.  But he was not a Mahdi of the Islamic type.

A constant stream of Tablets (letters) flowed from his pen. In this
way he kept himself in touch with those who could not see him in the
flesh. But there were many who could not rest without seeing the
divine Manifestation. Pilgrims seemed never to cease; and it made the
Bāb still happier to receive them.

This stream of Tablets and of pilgrims could not however be
exhilarating to the Shah and his Minister. They complained to the
castle-warden, and bade him be a stricter gaoler, but 'Ali Khan, too,
was under the spell of the Gate of Knowledge; or--as one should rather
say now--the Point or Climax of Prophetic Revelation, for so the Word
of Prophecy directed that he should be called.  So the order went
forth that 'Ali Muḥammad should be transferred to another
castle--that of Chihriḳ.  [Footnote: Strictly, six or eight months
(Feb. or April to Dec. 1847) at Maku, and two-and-a-half years at
Chihriḳ (Dec. 1847 to July 1850).]

At this point a digression seems necessary.

The Bāb was well aware that a primary need of the new fraternity was
a new Ḳur'an. This he produced in the shape of a book called _The
Bayan_ (Exposition). Unfortunately he adopted from the Muslims the
unworkable idea of a sacred language, and his first contributions to
the new Divine Library (for the new Ḳur'an ultimately became this)
were in Arabic. These were a Commentary on the Sura of Yusuf (Joseph)
and the Arabic Bayan. The language of these, however, was a barrier to
the laity, and so the 'first believer' wrote a letter to the Bāb,
enforcing the necessity of making himself intelligible to all. This
seems to be the true origin of the Persian Bayan.

A more difficult matter is 'Ali Muḥammad's very peculiar
consciousness, which reminds us of that which the Fourth Gospel
ascribes to Jesus Christ. In other words, 'Ali Muḥammad claims for
himself the highest spiritual rank. 'As for Me,' he said, 'I am that
Point from which all that exists has found existence. I am that Face
of God which dieth not. I am that Light which doth not go out. He that
knoweth Me is accompanied by all good; he that repulseth Me hath
behind him all evil.'  [Footnote: _AMB_, p. 369.]  It is also certain
that in comparatively early writings, intended for stedfast disciples,
'Ali Muḥammad already claims the title of Point, i.e. Point of
Truth, or of Divine Wisdom, or of the Divine Mercy.  [Footnote: _Beyan
Arabe_, p. 206.]

It is noteworthy that just here we have a very old contact with
Babylonian mythology. 'Point' is, in fact, a mythological term. It
springs from an endeavour to minimize the materialism of the myth of
the Divine Dwelling-place. That ancient myth asserted that the
earth-mountain was the Divine Throne. Not so, said an early school of
Theosophy, God, i.e. the God who has a bodily form and manifests the
hidden glory, dwells on a point in the extreme north, called by the
Babylonians 'the heaven of Anu.'

The Point, however, i.e. the God of the Point, may also be
entitled 'The Gate,' i.e. the Avenue to God in all His various
aspects. To be the Point, therefore, is also to be the Gate. 'Ali, the
cousin and son-in-law of Muḥammad, was not only the Gate of the City
of Knowledge, but, according to words assigned to him in a
_ḥadith_, 'the guardian of the treasures of secrets and of the
purposes of God.'  [Footnote: _AMB_, p. 142.]

It is also in a book written at Maku--the Persian Bayan--that the
Bāb constantly refers to a subsequent far greater Person, called 'He
whom God will make manifest.' Altogether the harvest of sacred
literature at this mountain-fortress was a rich one. But let us now
pass on with the Bāb to Chihriḳ--a miserable spot, but not so
remote as Maku (it was two days' journey from Urumiyya).  As
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel tells us, 'The place of his captivity was a house
without windows and with a doorway of bare bricks,' and adds that 'at
night they would leave him without a lamp, treating him with the
utmost lack of respect.'  [Footnote: _NH_, p. 403.]  In the
Persian manner the Bāb himself indicated this by calling Maku 'the
Open Mountain,' and Chihriḳ 'the Grievous Mountain.'  [Footnote:
Cp. _TN_, p. 276.]  Stringent orders were issued making it
difficult for friends of the Beloved Master to see him; and it may be
that in the latter part of his sojourn the royal orders were more
effectually carried out--a change which was possibly the result of a
change in the warden. Certainly Yaḥya Khan was guilty of no such
coarseness as Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel imputes to the warden of Chihriḳ.  And
this view is confirmed by the peculiar language of Mirza Jani,
'Yaḥya Khan, so long as he was warden, maintained towards him an
attitude of unvarying respect and deference.'

This 'respect and deference' was largely owing to a dream which the
warden had on the night before the day of the Bāb's arrival. The
central figure of the dream was a bright shining saint.  He said in
the morning that 'if, when he saw His Holiness, he found appearance
and visage to correspond with what he beheld in his dream, he would be
convinced that He was in truth the promised Proof.' And this came
literally true.  At the first glance Yaḥya Khan recognized in the
so-called Bāb the lineaments of the saint whom he had beheld in his
dream. 'Involuntarily he bent down in obeisance and kissed the knee of
His Holiness.'  [Footnote: _NH_, p. 240. A slight alteration has
been made to draw out the meaning.]

It has already been remarked that such 'transfiguration' is not wholly
supernatural.  Persons who have experienced those wonderful phenomena
which are known as ecstatic, often exhibit what seems like a
triumphant and angelic irradiation. So--to keep near home--it was
among the Welsh in their last great revival. Such, too, was the
brightness which, Yaḥya Khan and other eye-witnesses agree, suffused
the Bāb's countenance more than ever in this period. Many adverse
things might happen, but the 'Point' of Divine Wisdom could not be
torn from His moorings.  In that miserable dark brick chamber He was
'in Paradise.' The horrid warfare at Sheykh Tabarsi and elsewhere,
which robbed him of Bābu'l Bāb and of Ḳuddus, forced human tears
from him for a time; but one who dwelt in the 'Heaven of
Pre-existence' knew that 'Returns' could be counted upon, and was
fully assured that the gifts and graces of Ḳuddus had passed into
Mirza Yaḥya (Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel). For himself he was free from
anxiety. His work would be carried on by another and a greater
Manifestation. He did not therefore favour schemes for his own
forcible deliverance.

We have no direct evidence that Yaḥya Khan was dismissed from his
office as a mark of the royal displeasure at his gentleness. But he
must have been already removed and imprisoned, [Footnote: _NH_,
p. 353.]  when the vizier wrote to the Crown Prince (Nasiru'd-Din,
afterwards Shah) and governor of Azarbaijan directing him to summon
the Bāb to Tabriz and convene an assembly of clergy and laity to
discuss in the Bāb's presence the validity of his claims.
[Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 284.]  The Bāb was therefore sent, and
the meeting held, but there is (as Browne has shown) no trustworthy
account of the deliberations.  [Footnote: _TN_, Note M, 'Bāb
Examined at Tabriz.']  Of course, the Bāb had something better to do
than to record the often trivial questions put to him from anything
but a simple desire for truth, so that unless the great Accused had
some friend to accompany him (which does not appear to have been the
case) there could hardly be an authentic Bābī narrative. And as
for the Muslim accounts, those which we have before us do not bear the
stamp of truth: they seem to be forgeries.  Knowing what we do of the
Bāb, it is probable that he had the best of the argument, and that
the doctors and functionaries who attended the meeting were unwilling
to put upon record their own fiasco.

The result, however, _is_ known, and it is not precisely what
might have been expected, i.e. it is not a capital sentence for
this troublesome person. The punishment now allotted to him was one
which marked him out, most unfairly, as guilty of a common
misdemeanour--some act which would rightly disgust every educated
person.  How, indeed, could any one adopt as his teacher one who had
actually been disgraced by the infliction of stripes?  [Footnote:
Cp. Isaiah liii. 5.]  If the Bāb had been captured in battle,
bravely fighting, it might have been possible to admire him, but, as
Court politicians kept on saying, he was but 'a vulgar charlatan, a
timid dreamer.'  [Footnote: Gobineau, p. 257.]  According to Mirza
Jani, it was the Crown Prince who gave the order for stripes, but his
'_farrashes_ declared that they would rather throw themselves
down from the roof of the palace than carry it out.'  [Footnote:
_NH_, p. 290.]  Therefore the Sheykhu'l Islam charged a certain
Sayyid with the 'baleful task,' by whom the Messenger of God was
bastinadoed.

It seems clear, however, that there must have been a difference of
opinion among the advisers of the Shah, for shortly before Shah
Muḥammad's death (which was impending when the Bāb was in Tabriz)
we are told that Prince Mahdi-Kuli dreamed that he saw the Sayyid
shoot the Shah at a levee.  [Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 355.]
Evidently there were some Court politicians who held that the Bāb
was dangerous.  Probably Shah Muḥammad's vizier took the disparaging
view mentioned above (i.e. that the Bāb was a mere mystic
dreamer), but Shah Muḥammad's successor dismissed Mirza Aḳasi, and
appointed Mirza Taḳi Khan in his place. It was Mirza Taḳi Khan to
whom the Great Catastrophe is owing. When the Bāb returned to his
confinement, now really rigorous, at Chihriḳ, he was still under the
control of the old, capricious, and now doubly anxious grand vizier,
but it was not the will of Providence that this should continue much
longer. A release was at hand.

It was the insurrection of Zanjan which changed the tone of the
courtiers and brought near to the Bāb a glorious departure. Not, be
it observed, except indirectly, his theosophical novelties; the
penalty of death for deviations from the True Faith had long fallen
into desuetude in Persia, if indeed it had ever taken root there.
[Footnote: Gobineau, p. 262.]  Only if the Kingdom of Righteousness
were to be brought in by the Bāb by material weapons would this
heresiarch be politically dangerous; mere religious innovations did
not disturb high Court functionaries. But could the political leaders
any longer indulge the fancy that the Bāb was a mere mystic dreamer?
Such was probably the mental state of Mirza Taḳi Khan when he wrote
from Tihran, directing the governor to summon the Bāb to come once
more for examination to Tabriz. The governor of Azarbaijan at this
time was Prince Hamzé Mirza.

The end of the Bāb's earthly Manifestation is now close upon us. He
knew it himself before the event, [Footnote: _NH_, pp. 235,
309-311, 418 (Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel).]  and was not displeased at the
presentiment.  He had already 'set his house in order,' as regards the
spiritual affairs of the Bābī community, which he had, if I
mistake not, confided to the intuitive wisdom of Baha-'ullah. His
literary executorship he now committed to the same competent hands.
This is what the Baha'is History (_The Travellers Narrative_)
relates,--

'Now the Sayyid Bāb ... had placed his writings, and even his ring
and pen-case, in a specially prepared box, put the key of the box in
an envelope, and sent it by means of Mullā Baḳir, who was one of
his first associates, to Mullā 'Abdu'l Karim of Kazwin. This trust
Mullā Baḳir delivered over to Mullā 'Abdu'l Karim at Ḳum in
presence of a numerous company.... Then Mullā 'Abdu'l Karim conveyed
the trust to its destination.'  [Footnote: _TN_, pp. 41, 42.]

The destination was Baha-'ullah, as Mullā Baḳir expressly told the
'numerous company.' It also appears that the Bāb sent another letter
to the same trusted personage respecting the disposal of his remains.

It is impossible not to feel that this is far more probable than the
view which makes Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel the custodian of the sacred writings
and the arranger of a resting-place for the sacred remains.  I much
fear that the Ezelites have manipulated tradition in the interest of
their party.

To return to our narrative. From the first no indignity was spared to
the holy prisoner. With night-cap instead of seemly turban, and clad
only in an under-coat, [Footnote: _NH_, p. 294.]  he reached
Tabriz. It is true, his first experience was favourable. A man of
probity, the confidential friend of Prince Hamzé Mirza, the governor,
summoned the Bāb to a first non-ecclesiastical examination. The tone
of the inquiry seems to have been quite respectful, though the accused
frankly stated that he was 'that promised deliverer for whom ye have
waited 1260 years, to wit the Ḳa'im.' Next morning, however, all
this was reversed. The 'man of probity' gave way to the mullās and
the populace, [Footnote: See _New History_, pp. 296 _f._, a
graphic narration.]  who dragged the Bāb, with every circumstance of
indignity, to the houses of two or three well-known members of the
clergy. 'These reviled him; but to all who questioned him he declared,
without any attempt at denial, that he was the Ḳa'im [ = he that
ariseth]. At length Mullā Muḥammad Mama-ghuri, one of the Sheykhi
party, and sundry others, assembled together in the porch of a house
belonging to one of their number, questioned him fiercely and
insultingly, and when he had answered them explicitly, condemned him
to death.

'So they imprisoned him who was athirst for the draught of martyrdom
for three days, along with Aḳa Sayyid Ḥuseyn of Yezd, the
amanuensis, and Aḳa Sayyid Ḥasan, which twain were brothers, wont
to pass their time for the most part in the Bāb's presence....

'On the night before the day whereon was consummated the martyrdom
... he [the Bāb] said to his companions, "To-morrow they will slay
me shamefully. Let one of you now arise and kill me, that I may not
have to endure this ignominy and shame from my enemies; for it is
pleasanter to me to die by the hands of friends."  His companions,
with expressions of grief and sorrow, sought to excuse themselves with
the exception of Mirza Muḥammad 'Ali, who at once made as though he
would obey the command.  His comrades, however, anxiously seized his
hand, crying, "Such rash presumption ill accords with the attitude of
devoted service." "This act of mine," replied he, "is not prompted by
presumption, but by unstinted obedience, and desire to fulfil my
Master's behest. After giving effect to the command of His Holiness, I
will assuredly pour forth my life also at His feet."

'His Holiness smiled, and, applauding his faithful devotion and
sincere belief, said, "To-morrow, when you are questioned, repudiate
me, and renounce my doctrines, for thus is the command of God now laid
upon you...." The Bāb's companions agreed, with the exception of
Mirza Muḥammad 'Ali, who fell at the feet of His Holiness and began
to entreat and implore....  So earnestly did he urge his entreaties
that His Holiness, though (at first) he strove to dissuade him, at
length graciously acceded.

'Now when a little while had elapsed after the rising of the sun, they
brought them, without cloak or coat, and clad only in their undercoats
and nightcaps, to the Government House, where they were sentenced to
be shot. Aḳa Sayyid Ḥuseyn, the amanuensis, and his brother, Aḳa
Sayyid Ḥasan, recanted, as they had been bidden to do, and were set
at liberty; and Aḳa Sayyid Ḥuseyn bestowed the gems of wisdom
treasured in his bosom upon such as sought for and were worthy of
them, and, agreeably to his instructions, communicated certain secrets
of the faith to those for whom they were intended.  He (subsequently)
attained to the rank of martyrdom in the Catastrophe of Tihran.

'But since Mirza Muḥammad 'Ali, athirst for the draught of
martyrdom, declared (himself) in the most explicit manner, they
dragged him along with that (Central) Point of the Universal Circle
[Footnote: i.e. the Supreme Wisdom.]  to the barrack, situated
by the citadel, and, opposite to the cells on one side of the barrack,
suspended him from one of the stone gutters erected under the eaves of
the cells. Though his relations and friends cried, "Our son is gone
mad; his confession is but the outcome of his distemper and the raving
of lunacy, and it is unlawful to inflict on him the death penalty," he
continued to exclaim, "I am in my right mind, perfect in service and
sacrifice."  .... Now he had a sweet young child; and they, hoping to
work upon his parental love, brought the boy to him that he might
renounce his faith.  But he only said,--

  "Begone, and bait your snares for other quarry;
  The 'Anka's nest is hard to reach and high."

So they shot him in the presence of his Master, and laid his faithful
and upright form in the dust, while his pure and victorious spirit,
freed from the prison of earth and the cage of the body, soared to the
branches of the Lote-tree beyond which there is no passing. [And the
Bab cried out with a loud voice, "Verily thou shalt be with me in
Paradise."]

'Now after this, when they had suspended His Holiness in like manner,
the Shaḳaḳi regiment received orders to fire, and discharged their
pieces in a single volley. But of all the shots fired none took
effect, save two bullets, which respectively struck the two ropes by
which His Holiness was suspended on either side, and severed them. The
Bāb fell to the ground, and took refuge in the adjacent room. As
soon as the smoke and dust of the powder had somewhat cleared, the
spectators looked for, but did not find, that Jesus of the age on the
cross.

'So, notwithstanding this miraculous escape, they again suspended His
Holiness, and gave orders to fire another volley. The Musulman
soldiers, however, made their excuses and refused.  Thereupon a
Christian regiment [Footnote: Why a Christian regiment? The reason is
evident.  Christians were outside the Bābī movement, whereas the
Musulman population had been profoundly affected by the preaching of
the Bābī, and could not be implicitly relied upon.]  was ordered
to fire the volley.... And at the third volley three bullets struck
him, and that holy spirit, escaping from its gentle frame, ascended to
the Supreme Horizon.' It was in July 1850.

It remained for Holy Night to hush the clamour of the crowd. The great
square of Tabriz was purified from unholy sights and sounds. What, we
ask, was done then to the holy bodies--that of Bāb himself and that
of his faithful follower?  The enemies of the Bāb, and even Count
Gobineau, assert that the dead body of the Bāb was cast out into the
moat and devoured by the wild beasts.  [Footnote: A similar fate is
asserted by tradition for the dead body of the heroic Mullā
Muḥammad 'Ali of Zanjan.]  We may be sure, however, that if the holy
body were exposed at night, the loyal Bābīs of Tabriz would lose
no time in rescuing it. The _New History_ makes this statement,--

'To be brief, two nights later, when they cast the most sacred body
and that of Mirza Muḥammad 'Ali into the moat, and set three
sentries over them, Haji Suleyman Khan and three others, having
provided themselves with arms, came to the sentries and said, "We will
ungrudgingly give you any sum of money you ask, if you will not oppose
our carrying away these bodies; but if you attempt to hinder us, we
will kill you." The sentinels, fearing for their lives, and greedy for
gain, consulted, and as the price of their complaisance received a
large sum of money.

'So Haji Suleyman Khan bore those holy bodies to his house, shrouded
them in white silk, placed them in a chest, and, after a while,
transported them to Tihran, where they remained in trust till such
time as instructions for their interment in a particular spot were
issued by the Sources of the will of the Eternal Beauty.  Now the
believers who were entrusted with the duty of transporting the holy
bodies were Mullā Ḥuseyn of Khurasan and Aḳa Muḥammad of
Isfahan, [Footnote: _TN_, p. 110, n. 3; _NH_, p. 312, n. 1.]  and the
instructions were given by Baha-'ullah.' So far our authority.
Different names, however, are given by Nicolas, _AMB_, p. 381.

The account here given from the _New History_ is in accordance
with a letter purporting to be written by the Bāb to Haji Suleyman
Khan exactly six months before his martyrdom; and preserved in the
_New History_, pp. 310, 311.

'Two nights after my martyrdom thou must go and, by some means or
other, buy my body and the body of Mirza Muḥammad 'Ali from the
sentinels for 400 tumāns, and keep them in thy house for six
months. Afterwards lay Aḳa Muḥammad 'Ali with his face upon my
face the two (dead) bodies in a strong chest, and send it with a
letter to Jenab-i-Baha (great is his majesty!).  [Footnote: _TN_,
p. 46, n. 1] Baha is, of course, the short for Baha-'ullah, and, as
Prof. Browne remarks, the modest title Jenab-i-Baha was, even after
the presumed date of this letter, the title commonly given to this
personage.

The instructions, however, given by the Bāb elsewhere are widely
different in tendency. He directs that his remains should be placed
near the shrine of Shah 'Abdu'l-'Azim, which 'is a good land, by
reason of the proximity of Wahid (i.e. Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel).'
[Footnote: The spot is said to be five miles south of Tihran.]  One
might naturally infer from this that Baha-'ullah's rival was the
guardian of the relics of the Bāb. This does not appear to have any
warrant of testimony. But, according to Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel himself, there
was a time when he had in his hands the destiny of the bodies. He says
that when the coffin (there was but one) came into his hands, he
thought it unsafe to attempt a separation or discrimination of the
bodies, so that they remained together 'until [both] were stolen.'

It will be seen that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel takes credit (1) for carrying out
the Bāb's last wishes, and (2) leaving the bodies as they were. To
remove the relics to another place was tantamount to stealing.  It was
Baha-'ullah who ordered this removal for a good reason, viz., that the
cemetery, in which the niche containing the coffin was, seemed so
ruinous as to be unsafe.

There is, however, another version of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's tradition; it
has been preserved to us by Mons. Nicolas, and contains very strange
statements.  The Bāb, it is said, ordered Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel to place
his dead body, if possible, in a coffin of diamonds, and to inter it
opposite to Shah 'Abdu'l-'Azim, in a spot described in such a way that
only the recipient of the letter could interpret it. 'So I put the
mingled remains of the two bodies in a crystal coffin, diamonds being
beyond me, and I interred it exactly where the Bāb had directed
me. The place remained secret for thirty years.  The Baha'is in
particular knew nothing of it, but a traitor revealed it to
them. Those blasphemers disinterred the corpse and destroyed it. Or if
not, and if they point out a new burying-place, really containing the
crystal coffin of the body of the Bāb which they have purloined, we
[Ezelites] could not consider this new place of sepulture to be
sacred.'

The story of the crystal coffin (really suggested by the Bayan) is too
fantastic to deserve credence.  But that the sacred remains had many
resting-places can easily be believed; also that the place of burial
remained secret for many years. Baha-'ullah, however, knew where it
was, and, when circumstances favoured, transported the remains to the
neighbourhood of Ḥaifa in Palestine. The mausoleum is worthy, and
numerous pilgrims from many countries resort to it.


EULOGIUM ON THE MASTER

The gentle spirit of the Bāb is surely high up in the cycles of
eternity. Who can fail, as Prof.  Browne says, to be attracted by him?
'His sorrowful and persecuted life; his purity of conduct and youth;
his courage and uncomplaining patience under misfortune; his complete
self-negation; the dim ideal of a better state of things which can be
discerned through the obscure mystic utterances of the Bayán; but
most of all his tragic death, all serve to enlist our sympathies on
behalf of the young prophet of Shiraz.'

'Il sentait le besoin d'une réforme profonde à introduire dans les
moeurs publiques.... Il s'est sacrifié pour l'humanité; pour elle il
a donné son corps et son âme, pour elle il a subi les privations,
les affronts, les injures, la torture et le martyre.' (Mons. Nicolas.)

_In an old Persian song, applied to the Bāb by his followers, it is
written_:--

  In what sect is this lawful? In what religion is this lawful?
  That they should kill a charmer of hearts! Why art thou a stealer of
    hearts?


MULLĀ ḤUSEYN OF BUSHRAWEYH

Mullā Ḥuseyn of Bushraweyh (in the province of Mazarandan) was the
embodied ideal of a Bābī chief such as the primitive period of the
faith produced--I mean, that he distinguished himself equally in
profound theosophic speculation and in warlike prowess. This
combination may seem to us strange, but Mirza Jani assures us that
many students who had left cloistered ease for the sake of God and the
Bāb developed an unsuspected warlike energy under the pressure of
persecution. And so that ardour, which in the case of the Bāb was
confined to the sphere of religious thought and speculation and to the
unlocking of metaphorical prison-gates, was displayed in the case of
Mullā Ḥuseyn both in voyages on the ocean of Truth, and in
warfare. Yes, the Mullā's fragile form might suggest the student,
but he had also the precious faculty of generalship, and a happy
perfection of fearlessness.

Like the Bāb himself in his preparation-period, he gave his adhesion
to the Sheykhi school of theology, and on the decease of the former
leader (Sayyid Kaẓim) he went, like other members of the school, to
seek for a new spiritual head.  Now it so happened that Sayyid Kaẓim
had already turned the eyes of Ḥuseyn towards 'Ali Muḥammad;
already this eminent theosophist had a presentiment that wonderful
things were in store for the young visitor from Shiraz. It was
natural, therefore, that Ḥuseyn should seek further information and
guidance from 'Ali Muḥammad himself. No trouble could be too great;
the object could not be attained in a single interview, and as 'Ali
Muḥammad was forbidden to leave his house at Shiraz, secrecy was
indispensable.  Ḥuseyn, 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
Ḥuseyn recognized in his heaven-sent teacher the Gate (_Bāb_)
which opened on to the secret abode of the vanished Imām, 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 Bāb 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 Bāb's Deputy. Two other titles maybe
mentioned.  One is 'The Gate.' Those who regarded 'Ali Muḥammad of
Shiraz as the 'Point' of prophecy and the returned Imâm (the Ḳa'im)
would naturally ascribe to his representative the vacant dignity of
'The Gate.' Indeed, it is one indication of this that the
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel designates Mullā Ḥuseyn 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
Bāb's Deputy (or perhaps 'the Bāb' [Footnote: Some Bābī
writers (including Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel) certainly call MullāḤuseyn
'the Bāb.']--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, Muḥammad 'Ali of
Zanjan, and Haji Mirza Jani, the same who has left us a much
'overworked' history of Bābism (down to the time of his
martyrdom). Also that among the places visited was Omar Khayyám'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 Bāb). So his Deputy resolved to make for the castle of Maku,
where the Bāb was confined. On the Deputy's arrival the Bāb
foretold to him his own (the Bāb's) approaching martyrdom and the
cruel afflictions which were impending. At the same time the Bāb
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 Bābī name
Ḳuddus (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 Ḳuddus had been privileged
to accompany the Bāb to Mecca, [Footnote: For the divergent
tradition in Nicolas, see _AMB_, p. 206.]  but was not the Bāb'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 Ḳuddus, 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 Ḳuddus were a letter from him to the Bāb's Deputy (the
letter is commonly called 'The Eternal Witness'), together with a
white robe [Footnote: White was the Bābite 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 Bābīs do
really appear to have had extraordinary spiritual gifts, especially
that of prophecy. One may ask, Did Ḳuddus 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 Bāb,
bidding believers concentrate, if possible, on Khurasan.

So, then, we see our Bābī apostles and their followers, with
changed route, proceeding to the province of Mazandaran, where
Ḳuddus 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
Bābīs were defeated. The Bābīs, however, went on steadily till
they arrived at Badasht, much perturbed by the inauspicious news of
the death of Muḥammad 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
Bāb. We cannot greatly wonder that, according to the Bābīs,
Muḥammad 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 Bāb, 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 Bābīs to the Islamic
laws--is also the more probable. The abrogation of those laws is
expressly taught by Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, according to Mirza Jani.

How many Bābīs took part in the Meeting?  That depends on whether
the ordinary Bābīs were welcomed to the Meeting or only the
leaders. If the former were admitted, the number of Bābīs must
have been considerable, for the 'Gate's Gate' is said to have gathered
a band of 230 men, and Ḳuddus 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 Riẓa
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 Ḳuddus. 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 Bābīs under the 'Gate's Gate' made this their
headquarters, and we have abundant information, both Bābite 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 _Bāb_, 'Ali Muḥammad
having assumed the rank of _Nuḳṭa_, Point) conferred new
names (those of prophets and saints) on the worthiest of the
Bābīs, [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 Bābī who received the name of a prophet or an Imām
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
Bābīs 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 Bāb, 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 Bābīs, it is true, were capable of such insight. From the
Bābī account of the night-action, ordered on his arrival at Sheykh
Tabarsi by Ḳuddus, we learn that some Bābīs, 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 Ḳuddus,
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.


MULLĀ MUḤAMMAD '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 Bāb, 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 Bābīs the title of Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus, i.e. 'His
Highness the Sacred,' by which it was meant that he was, for this age,
what the sacred prophet Muḥammad was to an earlier age, or, speaking
loosely, that holy prophet's 're-incarnation.'  It is interesting to
learn that that heroic woman Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn was regarded as the
'reincarnation' of Fatima, daughter of the prophet Muḥammad.
Certainly Ḳuddus 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
Muḥammad 'Ali of Barfurush (i.e.  Ḳuddus) claims to be a 'return'
of the great Arabian prophet and even to be the Ḳa'im (i.e. the
Imām Mahdi), who was expected to bring in the Kingdom of
Righteousness. There is no exaggeration, however, in saying that,
together with the Bāb, Ḳuddus 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 Ḳuddus, i.e. holy, sacred, because this was his
Bābī name, and his Bābī 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 Bāb before the
young Shirazite made his Arabian pilgrimage; indeed (according to our
best information), it was he who was selected by 'Ali Muḥammad 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 Bāb, however, who had a gift of insight,
was doubtless more than satisfied with his compensation. For Ḳuddus
had a noble soul.

The name Ḳuddus 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 Bābīs believed, the last of
the twelve Imāms (cp. the Zoroastrian Amshaspands) still lived on
invisibly (like the Jewish Messiah), and communicated with his
followers by means of personages called Bābs (i.e. Gates), whom the
Imām 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 Imām before Jesus.]  such 'Gates' in the Muḥammadan cycle
would be Waraḳa ibn Nawfal and the other Ḥanīfs, and in the
Bābī cycle Sheikh Aḥmad of Aḥsa, Sayyid Kaẓim of Resht,
Muḥammad 'Ali of Shiraz, and Mullā Ḥuseyn of Bushraweyh, who was
followed by his brother Muḥammad Ḥasan. 'Ali Muḥammad, however,
whom we call the Bāb, 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 Bāb) that
which has been decreed for him in the Book.--Early Letter to the
Bāb's uncle (_AMB_, p. 223).]  (i.e. Commemoration, or perhaps
Reminder); sometimes (p. 81) that of Nuḳṭa, i.e. Point (= Climax
of prophetic revelation). Humility may have prevented him from always
assuming the highest of these titles (Nuḳṭa). 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 Ḳuddus, or as to affirm with Mirza Jani
[Footnote: _NH_, p. 336.]  that 'in this (the present) cycle the
original "Point" was Ḥazrat-i-Ḳuddus.' He may, however, have
sanctioned Muḥammad 'Ali's assumption of the title of 'Point' on
some particular occasion, such as the Assembly of Badasht. It is true,
Muḥammad 'Ali's usual title was Ḳuddus, but Muḥammad 'Ali
himself, we know, considered this title to imply that in himself there
was virtually a 'return' of the great prophet Muḥammad.  [Footnote:
_Ibid_. p. 359.]  We may also, perhaps, believe on the authority of
Mirza Jani that the Bāb 'refrained from writing or circulating
anything during the period of the "Manifestation" of Ḥazrat-i-Ḳuddus,
and only after his death claimed to be himself the Ḳa'im.'
[Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 368.]  It is further stated that, in the list of
the nineteen (?) Letters of the Living, Ḳuddus stood next to the
Bāb himself, and the reader has seen how, in the defence of Tabarsi,
Ḳuddus took precedence even of that gallant knight, known among the
Bābīs as 'the Gate's Gate.'

On the whole, there can hardly be a doubt that Muḥammad 'Ali, called
Ḳuddus, was (as I have suggested already) the most conspicuous
Bābī next to the Bāb himself, however hard we may find it to
understand him on certain occasions indicated by Prof. Browne. He
seems, for instance, to have lacked that tender sense of life
characteristic of the Buddhists, and to have indulged a spiritual
ambition which Jesus would not have approved. But it is unimportant to
pick holes in such a genuine saint. I would rather lay stress on his
unwillingness to think evil even of his worst foes. And how abominable
was the return he met with! Weary of fighting, the Bābīs yielded
themselves up to the royal troops. As Prof. Browne says, 'they were
received with an apparent friendliness and even respect which served
to lull them into a false security and to render easy the perfidious
massacre wherein all but a few of them perished on the morrow of their
surrender.'

The same historian tells us that Ḳuddus, loyal as ever, requested
the Prince to send him to Tihran, there to undergo judgment before the
Shah. The Prince was at first disposed to grant this request, thinking
perhaps that to bring so notable a captive into the Royal Presence
might serve to obliterate in some measure the record of those repeated
failures to which his unparalleled incapacity had given rise. But when
the Sa'idu'l-'Ulama heard of this plan, and saw a possibility of his
hated foe escaping from his clutches, he went at once to the Prince,
and strongly represented to him the danger of allowing one so eloquent
and so plausible to plead his cause before the King. These arguments
were backed up by an offer to pay the Prince a sum of 400 (or, as
others say, of 1000) _tumāns_ on condition that Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus
should be surrendered unconditionally into his hands. To this
arrangement the Prince, whether moved by the arguments or the
_tumāns_ of the Sa'idu'l-'Ulama, eventually consented, and
Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus was delivered over to his inveterate enemy.

'The execution took place in the _meydan_, or public square, of Barfurush.
The Sa'idu'l-'Ulama first cut off the ears of Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus, and
tortured him in other ways, and then killed him with the blow of an
axe. One of the Sa'idu'l-'Ulama's disciples then severed the head from
the lifeless body, and others poured naphtha over the corpse and set
fire to it. The fire, however, as the Bābīs relate (for
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel corroborates the _Parikh-i-Jadid_ in this particular),
refused to burn the holy remains; and so the Sa'idu'l-'Ulama gave
orders that the body should be cut in pieces, and these pieces cast
far and wide. This was done, but, as Haji Mirza Jani relates, certain
Bābīs not known as such to their fellow-townsmen came at night,
collected the scattered fragments, and buried them in an old ruined
_madrasa_ or college hard by. By this _madrasa_, as the Bābī
historian relates, had Jenāb-i-Ḳuddus once passed in the company
of a friend with whom he was conversing on the transitoriness of this
world, and to it he had pointed to illustrate his words, saying, "This
college, for instance, was once frequented, and is now deserted and
neglected; a little while hence they will bury here some great man,
and many will come to visit his grave, and again it will be frequented
and thronged with people."'  When the Baha'is are more conscious of
the preciousness of their own history, this prophecy may be fulfilled,
and Ḳuddus be duly honoured.


SAYYID YAḤYA DARABI

Sayyid Yaḥya derived his surname Darabi from his birthplace Darab,
near Shiraz. His father was Sayyid Ja'far, surnamed Kashfi, i.e.
discloser (of the divine secrets). Neither father nor son, however,
was resident at Darab at the period of this narrative. The father was
at Buzurg, and the son, probably, at Tihran. So great was the
excitement caused by the appearance of the Bāb that Muḥammad Shah
and his minister thought it desirable to send an expert to inquire
into the new Teacher's claims. They selected Sayyid Yaḥya, 'one of
the best known of doctors and Sayyids, as well as an object of
veneration and confidence,' even in the highest quarters. The mission
was a failure, however, for the royal commissioner, instead of
devising some practical compromise, actually went over to the Bāb,
in other words, gave official sanction to the innovating party.
[Footnote: _TN_, pp. 7, 854; Nicolas, _AMB_, pp. 233, 388.]

The tale is an interesting one. The Bāb at first treated the
commissioner rather cavalierly. A Bābī theologian was told off to
educate him; the Bāb himself did not grant him an audience. To this
Bābī representative Yaḥya confided that he had some inclination
towards Bābism, and that a miracle performed by the Bāb in his
presence would make assurance doubly sure. To this the Bābī is
said to have answered, 'For such as have like us beheld a thousand
marvels stranger than the fabled cleaving of the moon to demand a
miracle or sign from that Perfect Truth would be as though we should
seek light from a candle in the full blaze of the radiant sun.'
[Footnote: _NH_, p. 122.]  Indeed, what marvel could be greater
than that of raising the spiritually dead, which the Bāb and his
followers were constantly performing?  [Footnote: Accounts of miracles
were spiritualized by the Bāb.]

It was already much to have read the inspired "signs," or verses,
communicated by the Bāb, but how much more would it be to see his
Countenance! The time came for the Sayyid's first interview with the
Master. There was still, however, in his mind a remainder of the
besetting sin of mullās'--arrogance,--and the Bāb's answers to the
questions of his guest failed to produce entire conviction. The Sayyid
was almost returning home, but the most learned of the disciples bade
him wait a little longer, till he too, like themselves, would see
clearly.  [Footnote: _NH_, p. 114.]  The truth is that the Bāb
committed the first part of the Sayyid's conversion to his disciples.
The would-be disciple had, like any novice, to be educated, and the
Bāb, in his first two interviews with the Sayyid, was content to
observe how far this process had gone.

It was in the third interview that the two souls really met. The
Sayyid had by this time found courage to put deep theological
questions, and received correspondingly deep answers. The Bāb then
wrote on the spot a commentary on the 108th Sura of the Ḳur'an.
[Footnote: Nicolas, p. 233.]  In this commentary what was the Sayyid's
surprise to find an explanation which he had supposed to be his own
original property! He now submitted entirely to the power of
attraction and influence [Footnote: _NH_, p. 115.]  exercised so
constantly, when He willed, by the Master. He took the Bāb for his
glorious model, and obtained the martyr's crown in the second Niriz
war.


MULLĀ MUḤAMMAD 'ALI OF ZANJAN

He was a native of Mazandaran, and a disciple of a celebrated teacher
at the holy city of Karbala, decorated with the title Sharifu-'l Ulama
('noblest of the Ulama'). He became a _mujtah[ī]d_ ('an authority on
hard religious questions') at Zanjan, the capital of the small
province of Khamsa, which lay between Iraḳ and Azarbaijan.  Muslim
writers affirm that in his functions of _mujtahād_ he displayed a
restless and intolerant spirit, [Footnote: Gobineau; Nicolas.]  and he
himself confesses to having been 'proud and masterful.' We can,
however, partly excuse one who had no congeniality with the narrow
Shi'ite system prevalent in Persia. It is clear, too, that his
teaching (which was that of the sect of the Akhbaris), [Footnote:
_NH_, pp. 138, 349.]  was attractive to many. He declares that two or
three thousand families in Khamsa were wholly devoted to him.
[Footnote: _Ibid_. p. 350.]

At the point at which this brief sketch begins, our mullā was
anxiously looking out for the return of his messenger Mash-hadi
Aḥmad from Shiraz with authentic news of the reported Divine
Manifestation. When the messenger returned he found Mullā Muḥammad
'Ali in the mosque about to give a theological lecture. He handed over
the letter to his Master, who, after reading it, at once turned to his
disciples, and uttered these words: 'To search for a roof after one
has arrived at one's destination is a shameful thing.  To search for
knowledge when one is in possession of one's object is supererogatory.
Close your lips [in surprise], for the Master has arisen; apprehend
the news thereof. The sun which points out to us the way we should go,
has appeared; the night of error and of ignorance is brought to
nothing.' With a loud voice he then recited the prayer of Friday,
which is to replace the daily prayer when the Imām appears.

The conversion [Footnote: For Muḥammad 'Ali's own account, see
Nicolas, _AMB_, pp. 349, 350.]  of Mullā Muḥammad 'Ali had
important results, though the rescue of the Bāb was not permitted to
be one of them. The same night on which the Bāb arrived at Zanjan on
his way to Tabriz and Maku, Mullā Muḥammad 'Ali was secretly
conveyed to Tihran. In this way one dangerous influence, much dreaded
at court, was removed. And in Tihran he remained till the death of
Muḥammad Shah, and the accession of Nasiru'd-din Shah. The new Shah
received him graciously, and expressed satisfaction that the Mullā
had not left Tihran without leave. He now gave him express permission
to return to Zanjan, which accordingly the Mullā lost no time in
doing. The hostile mullās, however, were stirred up to jealousy
because of the great popularity which Muḥammad 'Ali had
acquired. Such was the beginning of the famous episode of Zanjan.


ḲURRATU'L 'AYN

Among the Heroes of God was another glorious saint and martyr of the
new society, originally called Zarrin Taj ('Golden Crown'), but
afterwards better known as Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn ('Refreshment of the
Eyes') or Jenab-i-Tahira ('Her Excellency the Pure, Immaculate'). She
was the daughter of the 'sage of Kazwin,' Haji Mullā Salih, an
eminent jurist, who (as we shall see) eventually married her to her
cousin Mullā Muḥammad. Her father-in-law and uncle was also a
mullā, and also called Muḥammad; he was conspicuous for his bitter
hostility to the Sheykhi and the Bābī sects. Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn
herself had a flexible and progressive mind, and shrank from no
theological problem, old or new. She absorbed with avidity the latest
religious novelties, which were those of the Bāb, and though not
much sympathy could be expected from most of her family, yet there was
one of her cousins who was favourable like herself to the claims of
the Bāb. Her father, too, though he upbraided his daughter for her
wilful adhesion to 'this Shiraz lad,' confessed that he had not taken
offence at any claim which she advanced for herself, whether to be the
Bāb or _even more than that_.

Now I cannot indeed exonerate the 'sage of Kazwin' from all
responsibility for connecting his daughter so closely with a bitter
enemy of the Bāb, but I welcome his testimony to the manifold
capacities of his daughter, and his admission that there were not only
extraordinary men but extraordinary women qualified even to represent
God, and to lead their less gifted fellow-men or fellow-women up the
heights of sanctity.  The idea of a woman-Bāb is so original that it
almost takes one's breath away, and still more perhaps does the
view--modestly veiled by the Haji--that certain men and even women are
of divine nature scandalize a Western till it becomes clear that the
two views are mutually complementary. Indeed, the only difference in
human beings is that some realize more, and some less, or even not at
all, the fact of the divine spark in their composition. Ḳurratu'l
'Ayn certainly did realize her divinity. On one occasion she even
reproved one of her companions for not at once discerning that she was
the _Ḳibla_ towards which he ought to pray. This is no poetical
conceit; it is meant as seriously as the phrase, 'the Gate,' is meant
when applied to Mirza 'Ali Muḥammad. We may compare it with another
honorific title of this great woman--'The Mother of the World.'

The love of God and the love of man were in fact equally prominent in
the character of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and the Glorious One (el-Abha) had
endowed her not only with moral but with high intellectual gifts. It
was from the head of the Sheykhi sect (Haji Sayyid Kaẓim) that she
received her best-known title, and after the Sayyid's death it was she
who (see below) instructed his most advanced disciples; she herself,
indeed, was more advanced than any, and was essentially, like Symeon
in St. Luke's Gospel, a waiting soul. As yet, it appears, the young
Shiraz Reformer had not heard of her.  It was a letter which she wrote
after the death of the Sayyid to Mullā Ḥuseyn of Bushraweyh which
brought her rare gifts to the knowledge of the Bāb. Ḥuseyn himself
was not commissioned to offer Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn as a member of the new
society, but the Bāb 'knew what was in man,' and divined what the
gifted woman was desiring. Shortly afterwards she had opportunities of
perusing theological and devotional works of the Bāb, by which, says
Mirza Jani, 'her conversion was definitely effected.' This was at
Karbala, a place beyond the limits of Persia, but dear to all Shi'ites
from its associations. It appears that Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn had gone
thither chiefly to make the acquaintance of the great Sheykhite
teacher, Sayyid Kaẓim.

Great was the scandal of both clergy and laity when this fateful step
of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn became known at Kazwin. Greater still must it have
been if (as Gobineau states) she actually appeared in public without a
veil. Is this true?  No, it is not true, said Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, when
questioned on this point by Browne. Now and then, when carried away by
her eloquence, she would allow the veil to slip down off her face, but
she would always replace it. The tradition handed on in Baha-'ullah's
family is different, and considering how close was the bond between
Bāhāa and Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, I think it safer to follow the family
of Bāhā, which in this case involves agreeing with Gobineau. This
noble woman, therefore, has the credit of opening the catalogue of
social reforms in Persia. Presently I shall have occasion to refer to
this again.

Mirza Jani confirms this view. He tells us that after being converted,
our heroine 'set herself to proclaim and establish the doctrine,' and
that this she did 'seated behind a curtain.' We are no doubt meant to
suppose that those of her hearers who were women were gathered round
the lecturer behind the curtain. It was not in accordance with
conventions that men and women should be instructed together, and
that--horrible to say--by a woman. The governor of Karbala determined
to arrest her, but, though without a passport, she made good her
escape to Baghdad. There she defended her religious position before
the chief mufti.  The secular authorities, however, ordered her to
quit Turkish territory and not return.

The road which she took was that by Kirmanshah and Hamadan (both in
Iraḳ; the latter, the humiliated representative of Ecbatana). Of
course, Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn took the opportunity of preaching her Gospel,
which was not a scheme of salvation or redemption, but 'certain subtle
mysteries of the divine' to which but few had yet been privileged to
listen. The names of some of her hearers are given; we are to suppose
that some friendly theologians had gathered round her, partly as an
escort, and partly attracted by her remarkable eloquence. Two of them
we shall meet with presently in another connection. It must not, of
course, be supposed that all minds were equally open. There were some
who raised objections to Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and wrote a letter to the
Bāb, complaining of her. The Bāb returned discriminating answers,
the upshot of which was that her homilies were to be considered as
inspired. We are told that these same objectors repented, which
implies apparently that the Bāb's spiritual influence was effectual
at a distance.

Other converts were made at the same places, and the idea actually
occurred to her that she might put the true doctrine before the
Shah. It was a romantic idea (Muḥammad Shah was anything thing but a
devout and believing Muslim), not destined to be realized. Her father
took the alarm and sent for her to come home, and, much to her credit,
she gave filial obedience to his summons. It will be observed that it
is the father who issues his orders; no husband is mentioned. Was it
not, then, most probably on _this_ return of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn
that the maiden was married to Mullā Muḥammad, the eldest son of
Haji Mullā Muḥammad Taḳi. Mirza Jani does not mention this, but
unless our heroine made two journeys to Karbala, is it not the easiest
way of understanding the facts? The object of the 'sage of Kazwin'
was, of course, to prevent his daughter from traversing the country as
an itinerant teacher. That object was attained.  I will quote from an
account which claims to be from Haji Muḥammad Hamami, who had been
charged with this delicate mission by the family.

'I conducted Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn into the house of her father, to whom I
rendered an account of what I had seen. Haji Mullā Taḳi, who was
present at the interview, showed great irritation, and recommended all
the servants to prevent "this woman" from going out of the house under
any pretext whatsoever, and not to permit any one to visit her without
his authority. Thereupon he betook himself to the traveller's room,
and tried to convince her of the error in which she was entangled. He
entirely failed, however, and, furious before that settled calm and
earnestness, was led to curse the Bāb and to load him with
insults. Then Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn looked into his face, and said to him,
"Woe unto thee, for I see thy mouth filling with blood."'

Such is the oral tradition which our informant reproduces. In
criticizing it, we may admit that the gift of second sight was
possessed by the Bābī and Bahai leaders. But this particular
anecdote respecting our heroine is (may I not say?)  very
improbable. To curse the Bāb was not the way for an uncle to
convince his erring niece.  One may, with more reason, suppose that
her father and uncle trusted to the effect of matrimony, and committed
the transformation of the lady to her cousin Mullā Muḥammad. True,
this could not last long, and the murder of Taḳi in the mosque of
Kazwin must have precipitated Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn's resolution to divorce
her husband (as by Muḥammadan law she was entitled to do) and leave
home for ever.  It might, however, have gone hardly with her if she
had really uttered the prophecy related above. Evidently her husband,
who had accused her of complicity in the crime, had not heard of
it. So she was acquitted. The Bāb, too, favoured the suggestion of
her leaving home, and taking her place among his missionaries.
[Footnote: Nicolas, _AMB_, p. 277.]  At the dead of night, with
an escort of Bābīs, she set out ostensibly for Khurasan. The route
which she really adopted, however, took her by the forest-country of
Mazandaran, where she had the leisure necessary for pondering the
religious situation.

The sequel was dramatic. After some days and nights of quietude, she
suddenly made her appearance in the hamlet of Badasht, to which place
a representative conference of Bābīs had been summoned.

The object of the conference was to correct a widespread
misunderstanding. There were many who thought that the new leader
came, in the most literal sense, to fulfil the Islamic Law. They
realized, indeed, that the object of Muḥammad was to bring about an
universal kingdom of righteousness and peace, but they thought this
was to be effected by wading through streams of blood, and with the
help of the divine judgments. The Bāb, on the other hand, though not
always consistent, was moving, with some of his disciples, in the
direction of moral suasion; his only weapon was 'the sword of the
Spirit, which is the word of God.' When the Ḳa'im appeared all
things would be renewed.  But the Ḳa'im was on the point of
appearing, and all that remained was to prepare for his Coming. No
more should there be any distinction between higher and lower races,
or between male and female. No more should the long, enveloping veil
be the badge of woman's inferiority.

The gifted woman before us had her own characteristic solution of the
problem. So, doubtless, had the other Bābī leaders who were
present, such as Ḳuddus and Baha-'ullah, the one against, the other
in favour of social reforms.

It is said, in one form of tradition, that Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn herself
attended the conference with a veil on. If so, she lost no time in
discarding it, and broke out (we are told) into the fervid
exclamation, 'I am the blast of the trumpet, I am the call of the
bugle,' i.e. 'Like Gabriel, I would awaken sleeping souls.' It
is said, too, that this short speech of the brave woman was followed
by the recitation by Baha-'ullah of the Sura of the Resurrection
(lxxv.). Such recitations often have an overpowering effect.

The inner meaning of this was that mankind was about to pass into a
new cosmic cycle, for which a new set of laws and customs would be
indispensable.

There is also a somewhat fuller tradition.  Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn was in
Mazandaran, and so was also Baha'ullah. The latter was taken ill, and
Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, who was an intimate friend of his, was greatly
concerned at this. For two days she saw nothing of him, and on the
third sent a message to him to the effect that she could keep away no
longer, but must come to see him, not, however, as hitherto, but with
her head uncovered.  If her friend disapproved of this, let him
censure her conduct. He did not disapprove, and on the way to see him,
she proclaimed herself the trumpet blast.

At any rate, it was this bold act of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn which shook the
foundations of a literal belief in Islamic doctrines among the
Persians.  It may be added that the first-fruits of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn's
teaching was no one less than the heroic Ḳuddus, and that the
eloquent teacher herself owed her insight probably to Baha-'ullah. Of
course, the supposition that her greatest friend might censure her is
merely a delightful piece of irony.  [Footnote: _NH_, pp. 357-358.]

I have not yet mentioned the long address assigned to our heroine by
Mirza Jani. It seems to me, in its present form, improbable, and yet
the leading ideas may have been among those expressed by the
prophetess. If so, she stated that the laws of the previous
dispensation were abrogated, and that laws in general were only
necessary till men had learnt to comprehend the Perfection of the
Doctrine of the Unity. 'And should men not be able to receive the
Doctrine of the Unity at the beginning of the Manifestation,
ordinances and restrictions will again be prescribed for them.' It is
not wonderful that the declaration of an impending abrogation of Law
was misinterpreted, and converted into a licence for Antinomianism.
Mirza Jani mentions, but with some reticence, the unseemly conduct of
some of the Bābīs.

There must, however, have been some who felt the spell of the great
orator, and such an one is portrayed by Mme. H. Dreyfus, in her
dramatic poem _God's Heroes_, under the name of 'Ali. I will
quote here a little speech of 'Ali's, and also a speech of Ḳurratu'l
'Ayn, because they seem to me to give a more vivid idea of the scene
than is possible for a mere narrator.  [Footnote: _God's Heroes_,
by Laura Clifford Barney [Paris, 1909], p. 64, Act III.]

'ALI

'Soon we shall leave Badasht: let us leave it filled with the Gospel
of life! Let our lives show what we, sincere Muḥammadans, have
become through our acceptance of the Bāb, the Mahdi, who has
awakened us to the esoteric meaning of the Resurrection Day. Let us
fill the souls of men with the glory of the revealed word. Let us
advance with arms extended to the stranger.  Let us emancipate our
women, reform our society.  Let us arise out of our graves of
superstition and of self, and pronounce that the Day of Judgment is at
hand; then shall the whole earth respond to the quickening power of
regeneration!'

QURRATU'L-'AIN

(_Deeply moved and half to herself._)

'I feel impelled to help unveil the Truth to these men assembled. If
my act be good the result will be good; if bad, may it affect me
alone!

'(_Advances majestically with face unveiled, and as she walks
towards Baha-'ullah's tent, addresses the men._) That sound of the
trumpet which ushers in the Day of Judgment is my call to you now!
Rise, brothers! The Quran is completed, the new era has begun. Know me
as your sister, and let all barriers of the past fall down before our
advancing steps. We teach freedom, action, and love. That sound of the
trumpet, it is I!  That blast of the trumpet, it is I!

(_Exit_ Qurratu'l 'Ain.)'

On the breaking up of the Council our heroine joined a large party of
Bābīs led by her great friend Ḳuddus. On their arrival in Nūr,
however, they separated, she herself staying in that district. There
she met Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, who is said to have rendered her many
services. But before long the people of Mazandaran surrendered the
gifted servant of truth to the Government.

We next meet with her in confinement at Tihran. There she was treated
at first with the utmost gentleness, her personal charm being felt
alike by her host, Maḥmūd the Kalantar, and by the most frigid of
Persian sovereigns. The former tried hard to save her. Doubtless by
using Ketman (i.e. by pretending to be a good Muslim) she might
have escaped. But her view of truth was too austere for this.

So the days--the well-filled days--wore on.  Her success with
inquirers was marvellous; wedding-feasts were not half so bright as
her religious soirées. But she herself had a bridegroom, and longed
to see him. It was the attempt by a Bābī on the Shah's life on
August 15, 1852, which brought her nearer to the desire of her
heart. One of the servants of the house has described her last evening
on earth. I quote a paragraph from the account.

'While she was in prison, the marriage of the Kalantar's son took
place. As was natural, all the women-folk of the great personages were
invited.  But although large sums had been expended on the
entertainments usual at such a time, all the ladies called loudly for
Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn. She came accordingly, and hardly had she begun to
speak when the musicians and dancing-girls were dismissed, and,
despite the counter attractions of sweet delicacies, the guests had no
eyes and ears save for Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn.

'At last, a night came when something strange and sad happened. I had
just waked up, and saw her go down into the courtyard. After washing
from head to foot she went back into her room, where she dressed
herself altogether in white.  She perfumed herself, and as she did
this she sang, and never had I seen her so contented and joyous as in
this song. Then she turned to the women of the house, and begged them
to pardon the disagreeables which might have been occasioned by her
presence, and the faults which she might have committed towards them;
in a word, she acted exactly like some one who is about to undertake a
long journey. We were all surprised, asking ourselves what that could
mean. In the evening, she wrapped herself in a _chadour_, which she
fixed about her waist, making a band of her _chargud_, then she put on
again her _chagchour_.  Her joy as she acted thus was so strange that
we burst into tears, for her goodness and inexhaustible friendliness
made us love her. But she smiled on us and said, "This evening I am
going to take a great, a very great journey."  At this moment there
was a knock at the street door.  "Run and open," she said, "for they
will be looking for me."

'It was the Kalantar who entered. He went in, as far as her room, and
said to her, "Come, Madam, for they are asking for you." "Yes," said
she, "I know it. I know, too, whither I am to be taken; I know how I
shall be treated.  But, ponder it well, a day will come when thy
Master will give thee like treatment." Then she went out dressed as
she was with the Kalantar; we had no idea whither she was being taken,
and only on the following day did we learn that she was executed.'

One of the nephews of the Kalantar, who was in the police, has given
an account of the closing scene, from which I quote the following:

'Four hours after sunset the Kalantar asked me if all my measures were
taken, and upon the assurances which I gave him he conducted me into
his house. He went in alone into the _enderūn_, but soon
returned, accompanied by Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and gave me a folded paper,
saying to me, "You will conduct this woman to the garden of Ilkhaní,
and will give her into the charge of Aziz Khan the Serdar."

'A horse was brought, and I helped Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn to mount. I was
afraid, however, that the Bābīs would find out what was
passing. So I threw my cloak upon her, so that she was taken for a
man. With an armed escort we set out to traverse the streets. I feel
sure, however, that if a rescue had been attempted my people would
have run away. I heaved a sigh of relief on entering the garden. I put
my prisoner in a room under the entrance, ordered my soldiers to guard
the door well, and went up to the third story to find the Serdar.

'He expected me. I gave him the letter, and he asked me if no one had
understood whom I had in charge. "No one," I replied, "and now that I
have performed my duty, give me a receipt for my prisoner." "Not yet,"
he said; "you have to attend at the execution; afterwards I will give
you your receipt."

'He called a handsome young Turk whom he had in his service, and tried
to win him over by flatteries and a bribe. He further said, "I will
look out for some good berth for you. But you must do something for
me. Take this silk handkerchief, and go downstairs with this
officer. He will conduct you into a room where you will find a young
woman who does much harm to believers, turning their feet from the way
of Muḥammad.  Strangle her with this handkerchief. By so doing you
will render an immense service to God, and I will give you a large
reward."

'The valet bowed and went out with me. I conducted him to the room
where I had left my prisoner. I found her prostrate and praying.  The
young man approached her with the view of executing his orders. Then
she raised her head, looked fixedly at him and said, "Oh, young man,
it would ill beseem you to soil your hand with this murder."

'I cannot tell what passed in this young man's soul. But it is a fact
that he fled like a madman.  I ran too, and we came together to the
serdar, to whom he declared that it was impossible for him to do what
was required. "I shall lose your patronage," he said. "I am, indeed,
no longer my own master; do what you will with me, but I will not
touch this woman."

'Aziz Khan packed him off, and reflected for some minutes. He then
sent for one of his horsemen whom, as a punishment for misconduct, he
had put to serve in the kitchens. When he came in, the serdar gave him
a friendly scolding: "Well, son of a dog, bandit that you are, has
your punishment been a lesson to you? and will you be worthy to regain
my affection? I think so. Here, take this large glass of brandy,
swallow it down, and make up for going so long without it." Then he
gave him a fresh handkerchief, and repeated the order which he had
already given to the young Turk.

'We entered the chamber together, and immediately the man rushed upon
Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, and tied the handkerchief several times round her
neck. Unable to breathe, she fell to the ground in a faint; he then
knelt with one knee on her back, and drew the handkerchief with might
and main. As his feelings were stirred and he was afraid, he did not
leave her time to breathe her last. He took her up in his arms, and
carried her out to a dry well, into which he threw her still
alive. There was no time to lose, for daybreak was at hand. So we
called some men to help us fill up the well.'

Mons. Nicolas, formerly interpreter of the French Legation at Tihran,
to whom we are indebted for this narrative, adds that a pious hand
planted five or six solitary trees to mark the spot where the heroine
gave up this life for a better one. It is doubtful whether the
ruthless modern builder has spared them.

The internal evidence in favour of this story is very strong; there is
a striking verisimilitude about it. The execution of a woman to whom
so much romantic interest attached cannot have been in the royal
square; that would have been to court unpopularity for the
Government. Moreover, there is a want of definite evidence that women
were among the public victims of the 'reign of Terror' which followed
the attempt on the Shah's life (cp. _TN,_ p. 334). That Ḳurratu'l
'Ayn was put to death is certain, but this can hardly have been in
public. It is true, a European doctor, quoted by Prof. Browne (_TN,_
p. 313), declares that he witnessed the heroic death of the 'beautiful
woman.' He seems to imply that the death was accompanied by slow
tortures.  But why does not this doctor give details? Is he not
drawing upon his fancy? Let us not make the persecutors worse than
they were.

Count Gobineau's informant appears to me too imaginative, but I will
give his statements in a somewhat shortened form.

'The beauty, eloquence, and enthusiasm of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn exercised a
fascination even upon her gaoler. One morning, returning from the
royal camp, he went into the _enderūn,_ and told his prisoner that
he brought her good news. "I know it," she answered gaily; "you need
not be at the pains to tell me." "You cannot possibly know my news,"
said the Ḳalantar; "it is a request from the Prime Minister. You
will be conducted to Niyavaran, and asked, 'Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, are you
a Bābī?' You will simply answer, 'No.' You will live alone for
some time, and avoid giving people anything to talk about. The Prime
Minister will keep his own opinion about you, but he will not exact
more of you than this."'

The words of the prophetess came true. She was taken to Niyavaran, and
publicly but gently asked, 'Are you a Bābī?' She answered what she
had said that she would answer in such a case.  She was taken back to
Tihran. Her martyrdom took place in the citadel. She was placed upon a
heap of that coarse straw which is used to increase the bulk of
woollen and felt carpets.  But before setting fire to this, the
executioners stifled her with rags, so that the flames only devoured
her dead body.

An account is also given in the London manuscript of the _New
History_, but as the Mirza suffered in the same persecution as the
heroine, we must suppose that it was inserted by the editor. It is
very short.

'For some while she was in the house of Maḥmūd Khan, the Kalantar,
where she exhorted and counselled the women of the household, till one
day she went to the bath, whence she returned in white garments,
saying, "To-morrow they will kill me." Next day the executioner came
and took her to the Nigaristan. As she would not suffer them to remove
the veil from her face (though they repeatedly sought to do so) they
applied the bow-string, and thus compassed her martyrdom. Then they
cast her holy body into a well in the garden.  [Footnote: _NH_,
pp. 283 _f_.]

My own impression is that a legend early began to gather round the
sacred form of Her Highness the Pure. Retracing his recollections even
Dr. Polak mixes up truth and fiction, and has in his mind's eye
something like the scene conjured up by Count Gobineau in his
description of the persecution of Tihran:--

'On vit s'avancer, entre les bourreaux, des enfants et des femmes, les
chairs ouvertes sur tout le corps, avec des mèches allumées
flambantes fichées dans les blessures.'

Looking back on the short career of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn, one is chiefly
struck by her fiery enthusiasm and by her absolute unworldliness. This
world was, in fact, to her, as it was said to be to Ḳuddus, a mere
handful of dust. She was also an eloquent speaker and experienced in
the intricate measures of Persian poetry. One of her few poems which
have thus far been made known is of special interest, because of the
belief which it expresses in the divine-human character of some one
(here called Lord), whose claims, when once adduced, would receive
general recognition. Who was this Personage? It appears that
Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn thought Him slow in bringing forward these claims. Is
there any one who can be thought of but Baha-'ullah?

The Bahaite tradition confidently answers in the negative.
Baha-'ullah, it declares, exercised great influence on the second
stage of the heroine's development, and Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn was one of
those who had pressed forward into the innermost sanctum of the
Bāb's disclosures. She was aware that 'The Splendour of God' was 'He
whom God would manifest.' The words of the poem, in Prof.  Browne's
translation, refer, not to Ezel, but to his brother Baha-'ullah. They
are in _TN_, p. 315.

  'Why lags the word, "_Am I not your Lord_"?
  "_Yea, that thou art_," let us make reply.'

The poetess was a true Bahaite. More than this; the harvest sown in
Islamic lands by Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn is now beginning to appear. A letter
addressed to the _Christian Commonwealth_ last June informs us
that forty Turkish suffragettes are being deported from Constantinople
to Akka (so long the prison of Baha-'ullah):

'"During the last few years suffrage ideas have been spreading quietly
behind in the harems.  The men were ignorant of it; everybody was
ignorant of it; and now suddenly the floodgate is opened and the men
of Constantinople have thought it necessary to resort to drastic
measures.  Suffrage clubs have been organized, intelligent memorials
incorporating the women's demands have been drafted and circulated;
women's journals and magazines have sprung up, publishing excellent
articles; and public meetings were held. Then one day the members of
these clubs--four hundred of them--_cast away their veils._ The
staid, fossilized class of society were shocked, the good Mussulmans
were alarmed, and the Government forced into action. These four
hundred liberty-loving women were divided into several groups. One
group composed of forty have been exiled to Akka, and will arrive in a
few days. Everybody is talking about it, and it is really surprising
to see how numerous are those in favour of removing the veils from the
faces of the women. Many men with whom I have talked think the custom
not only archaic, but thought-stifling. The Turkish authorities,
thinking to extinguish this light of liberty, have greatly added to
its flame, and their high-handed action has materially assisted the
creation of a wider public opinion and a better understanding of this
crucial problem." The other question exercising opinion in Ḥaifa is
the formation of a military and strategic quarter out of Akka, which
in this is resuming its bygone importance. Six regiments of soldiers
are to be quartered there.  Many officers have already arrived and are
hunting for houses, and as a result rents are trebled.  It is
interesting to reflect, as our Baha correspondent suggests, on the
possible consequence of this projection of militarism into the very
centre fount of the Bahai faith in universal peace.'


BAHA-'ULLAH (MIRZA ḤUSEYN ALI OF NŪR)

According to Count Gobineau, the martyrdom of the Bāb at Tabriz was
followed by a Council of the Bābī chiefs at Teheran (Tihran). What
authority he has for this statement is unknown, but it is in itself
not improbable. Formerly the members of the Two Unities must have
desired to make their policy as far as possible uniform.  We have
already heard of the Council of Badasht (from which, however, the
Bāb, or, the Point, was absent); we now have to make room in our
mind for the possibilities of a Council of Tihran.  It was an
important occasion of which Gobineau reminds us, well worthy to be
marked by a Council, being nothing less than the decision of the
succession to the Pontificate.

At such a Council who would as a matter of course be present? One may
mention in the first instance Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali, titled as
Baha-'ullah, and his half-brother, Mirza Yaḥya, otherwise known as
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, also Jenāb-i-'Azim, Jenāb-i-Bazir, Mirza
Asadu'llah [Footnote: Gobineau, however, thinks that Mirza Asadu'llah
was not present at the (assumed) Council.]  (Dayyan), Sayyid Yaḥya
(of Darab), and others similarly honoured by the original Bāb. And
who were the candidates for this terribly responsible post? Several
may have wished to be brought forward, but one candidate, according to
the scholar mentioned, overshadowed the rest. This was Mirza Yaḥya
(of Nūr), better known as Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.

The claims of this young man were based on a nomination-document now
in the possession of Prof. Browne, and have been supported by a letter
given in a French version by Mons. Nicolas.  Forgery, however, has
played such a great part in written documents of the East that I
hesitate to recognize the genuineness of this nomination.  And I think
it very improbable that any company of intensely earnest men should
have accepted the document in preference to the evidence of their own
knowledge respecting the inadequate endowments of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.

No doubt the responsibilities of the pontificate would be shared.
There would be a 'Gate' and there would be a 'Point.' The deficiencies
of the 'Gate' might be made good by the 'Point.'  Moreover, the
'Letters of the Living' were important personages; their advice could
hardly be rejected.  Still the gravity and variety of the duties
devolving upon the 'Gate' and the 'Point' give us an uneasy sense that
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel was not adequate to either of these posts, and cannot
have been appointed to either of them by the Council. The probability
is that the arrangement already made was further sanctioned, viz. that
Baha-'ullah was for the present to take the private direction of
affairs and exercise his great gifts as a teacher, while
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (a vain young man) gave his name as ostensible head,
especially with a view to outsiders and to agents of the government.

It may be this to which allusion is made in a tradition preserved by
Behîah Khanum, sister of Abbas Effendi Abdul Baha, that
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel claimed to be equal to his half-brother, and that he
rested this claim on a vision. The implication is that Baha-'ullah was
virtually the head of the Bābī community, and that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel
was wrapt up in dreams, and was really only a figurehead. In fact,
from whatever point of view we compare the brothers (half-brothers),
we are struck by the all-round competence of the elder and the
incompetence of the younger. As leader, as teacher, and as writer he
was alike unsurpassed. It may be mentioned in passing that, not only
the _Hidden Words_ and the _Seven Valleys_, but the fine
though unconvincing apologetic arguments of the _Book of Ighan_
flowed from Baha-'ullah's pen at the Baghdad period. But we must now
make good a great omission. Let us turn back to our hero's origin and
childhood.

Ḥuseyn 'Ali was half-brother of Yaḥya, i.e. they had the
same father but different mothers.  The former was the elder, being
born in A.D.  1817, whereas the latter only entered on his melancholy
life in A.D. 1830.  [Footnote: It is a singular fact that an Ezelite
source claims the name Baha-'ullah for Mirza Yaḥya. But one can
hardly venture to credit this. See _TN_, p. 373 n. 1.]  Both
embraced the Bābī faith, and were called respectively Baha-'ullah
(Splendour of God) and Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (Dawn of Eternity). Their
father was known as Buzurg (or, Abbas), of the district of Nūr in
Mazandaran. The family was distinguished; Mirza Buzurg held a high
post under government.

Like many men of his class, Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali had a turn for
mysticism, but combined this--like so many other mystics--with much
practical ability. He became a Bābī early in life, and did much to
lay the foundations of the faith both in his native place and in the
capital. His speech was like a 'rushing torrent,' and his clearness in
exposition brought the most learned divines to his feet. Like his
half-brother, he attended the important Council of Badasht, where,
with God's Heroine--Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn--he defended the cause of
progress and averted a fiasco. The Bāb--'an ambassador in bonds'--he
never met, but he corresponded with him, using (as it appears) the
name of his half-brother as a protecting pseudonym.  [Footnote:
_TN_, p. 373 n. 1.]

The Bāb was 'taken up into heaven' in 1850 upon which (according to
a Tradition which I am compelled to reject) Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel succeeded
to the Supreme Headship. The appointment would have been very
unsuitable, but the truth is (_pace_ Gobineau) that it was never
made, or rather, God did not will to put such a strain upon our faith.
It was, in fact, too trying a time for any new teacher, and we can now
see the wisdom of Baha-'ullah in waiting for the call of events. The
Bābī community was too much divided to yield a new Head a frank
and loyal obedience. Many Bābīs rose against the government, and
one even made an attempt on the Shah's life. Baha-'ullah (to use the
name given to Ḥuseyn 'Ali of Nūr by the Bāb) was arrested near
Tihran on a charge of complicity. He was imprisoned for four months,
but finally acquitted and released.  No wonder that Baha-'ullah and
his family were anxious to put as large a space as possible between
themselves and Tihran.

Together with several Bābī families, and, of course, his own
nearest and dearest, Baha-'ullah set out for Baghdad. It was a
terrible journey in rough mountain country and the travellers suffered
greatly from exposure. On their arrival fresh misery stared the ladies
in the face, unaccustomed as they were to such rough life. They were
aided, however, by the devotion of some of their fellow-believers, who
rendered many voluntary services; indeed, their affectionate zeal
needed to be restrained, as St. Paul doubtless found in like
circumstances. Baha-'ullah himself was intensely, divinely happy, and
the little band of refugees--thirsty for truth--rejoiced in their
untrammelled intercourse with their Teacher.  Unfortunately religious
dissensions began to arise.  In the Bābī colony at Baghdad there
were some who were not thoroughly devoted to Baha-'ullah.  The Teacher
was rather too radical, too progressive for them. They had not been
introduced to the simpler and more spiritual form of religion taught
by Baha-'ullah, and probably they had had positive teaching of quite
another order from some one authorized by Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.

The strife went on increasing in bitterness, until at length it became
clear that either Baha-'ullah or Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel must for a time
vanish from the scene. For Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (or, for shortness, Ezel)
to disappear would be suicidal; he knew how weak his personal claims
to the pontificate really were. But Baha-'ullah's disappearance would
be in the general interest; it would enable the Bābīs to realize
how totally dependent they were, in practical matters, on
Baha-'ullah. 'Accordingly, taking a change of clothes, but no money,
and against the entreaties of all the family, he set out. Many months
passed; he did not return, nor had we any word from him or about him.

'There was an old physician at Baghdad who had been called upon to
attend the family, and who had become our friend. He sympathized much
with us, and undertook on his own account to make inquiries for my
father. These inquiries were long without definite result, but at
length a certain traveller to whom he had described my father said
that he had heard of a man answering to that description, evidently of
high rank, but calling himself a dervish, living in caves in the
mountains. He was, he said, reputed to be so wise and wonderful in his
speech on religious things that when people heard him they would
follow him; whereupon, wishing to be alone, he would change his
residence to a cave in some other locality. When we heard these
things, we were convinced that this dervish was in truth our beloved
one. But having no means to send him any word, or to hear further of
him, we were very sad.

'There was also then in Baghdad an earnest Bābī, formerly a pupil
of Ḳurratu'l 'Ayn. This man said to us that as he had no ties and
did not care for his life, he desired no greater happiness than to be
allowed to seek for him all loved so much, and that he would not
return without him. He was, however, very poor, not being able even to
provide an ass for the journey; and he was besides not very strong,
and therefore not able to go on foot. We had no money for the purpose,
nor anything of value by the sale of which money could be procured,
with the exception of a single rug, upon which we all slept. This we
sold and with the proceeds bought an ass for this friend, who
thereupon set out upon the search.

'Time passed; we heard nothing, and fell into the deepest dejection
and despair. Finally, four months having elapsed since our friend had
departed, a message was one day received from him saying that he would
bring my father home on the next day. The absence of my father had
covered a little more than two years. After his return the fame which
he had acquired in the mountains reached Baghdad. His followers became
numerous; many of them even the fierce and untutored Arabs of Irak. He
was visited also by many Bābīs from Persia.'

This is the account of the sister of our beloved and venerated Abdul
Baha. There are, however, two other accounts which ought to be
mentioned.  According to the _Traveller's Narrative_, the refuge
of Baha-'ullah was generally in a place called Sarkalu in the
mountains of Turkish Kurdistan; more seldom he used to stay in
Suleymaniyya, the headquarters of the Sunnites. Before long, however,
'the most eminent doctors of those regions got some inkling of his
circumstances and conditions, and conversed with him on the solution
of certain difficult questions connected with the most abstruse points
of theology. In consequence of this, fragmentary accounts of this were
circulated in all quarters. Several persons therefore hastened
thither, and began to entreat and implore.'  [Footnote: _TN_,
pp. 64, 65.]

If this is correct, Baha-'ullah was more widely known in Turkish
Kurdistan than his family was aware, and debated high questions of
theology as frequently as if he were in Baghdad or at the Supreme
Shrine. Nor was it only the old physician and the poor Bābī
disciple who were on the track of Baha-'ullah, but 'several
persons'--no doubt persons of weight, who were anxious for a
settlement of the points at issue in the Bābī community. A further
contribution is made by the Ezeli historian, who states that
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel himself wrote a letter to his brother, inviting him to
return.  [Footnote: _TN_, p. 359.]  One wishes that letter could
be recovered.  It would presumably throw much light on the relations
between the brothers at this critical period.

About 1862 representations were made to the Shah that the Bābī
preaching at Baghdad was injurious to the true Faith in Persia. The
Turkish Government, therefore, when approached on the subject by the
Shah, consented to transfer the Bābīs from Baghdad to
Constantinople. An interval of two weeks was accorded, and before this
grace-time was over a great event happened--his declaration of himself
to be the expected Messiah (Him whom God should manifest). As yet it
was only in the presence of his son (now best known as Abdul Baha) and
four other specially chosen disciples that this momentous declaration
was made. There were reasons why Baha-'ullah should no longer keep his
knowledge of the will of God entirely secret, and also reasons why he
should not make the declaration absolutely public.

The caravan took four months to reach Constantinople. At this capital
of the Muḥammadan world their stay was brief, as they were 'packed
off' the same year to Adrianople. Again they suffered greatly. But who
would find fault with the Great Compassion for arranging it so? And
who would deny that there are more important events at this period
which claim our interest? These are (1) the repeated attempts on the
life of Baha-'ullah (or, as the Ezelis say, of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel) by the
machinations of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel (or, as the Ezelis say, of
Baha-'ullah), and (2) the public declaration on the part of
Baha-'ullah that he, and no one else, was the Promised Manifestation
of Deity.

There is some obscurity in the chronological relation of these events,
i.e. as to whether the public declaration of Baha-'ullah was in
definite opposition, not only to the claims of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, but to
those of Zabiḥ, related by Mirza Jani, [Footnote: See _NH_,
pp. 385, 394; _TN_, p. 357. The Ezelite historian includes Dayyan
(see above).]  and of others, or whether the reverse is the case. At
any rate Baha-'ullah believed that his brother was an assassin and a
liar. This is what he says,--'Neither was the belly of the glutton
sated till that he desired to eat my flesh and drink my blood.... And
herein he took counsel with one of my attendants, tempting him unto
this.... But he, when he became aware that the matter had become
publicly known, took the pen of falsehood, and wrote unto the people,
and attributed all that he had done to my peerless and wronged
Beauty.'  [Footnote: _TN_, pp. 368, 369.]

These words are either a meaningless extravagance, or they are a
deliberate assertion that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel had sought to destroy his
brother, and had then circulated a written declaration that it was
Baha-'ullah who had sought to destroy Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.  It is, I fear,
certain that Baha-'ullah is correct, and that Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel did
attempt to poison his brother, who was desperately ill for twenty-two
days.

Another attempt on the life of the much-loved Master was prevented, it
is said, by the faithfulness of the bath-servant. 'One day while in
the bath Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel remarked to the servant (who was a believer)
that the Blessed Perfection had enemies and that in the bath he was
much exposed.... Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel then asked him whether, if God should
lay upon him the command to do this, he would obey it. The servant
understood this question, coming from Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, to be a
suggestion of such a command, and was so petrified by it that he
rushed screaming from the room. He first met Abbas Effendi and
reported to him Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's words.... Abbas Effendi,
accordingly, accompanied him to my father, who listened to his story
and then enjoined absolute silence upon him.'  [Footnote: Phelps,
pp. 38, 39.]

Such is the story as given by one who from her youthful age is likely
to have remembered with precision. She adds that the occurrence 'was
ignored by my father and brother,' and that 'our relations with
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel continued to be cordial.' How extremely fine this is!
It may remind us of 'Father, forgive them,' and seems to justify the
title given to Baha-'ullah by his followers, 'Blessed Perfection.'

The Ezelite historian, however, gives a different version of the
story.  [Footnote: _TN_, pp. 359, 360.]  According to him, it was
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel whose life was threatened.  'It was arranged that
Muḥammad Ali the barber should cut his throat while shaving him in
the bath. On the approach of the barber, however, Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel
divined his design, refused to allow him to come near, and, on leaving
the bath, instantly took another lodging in Adrianople, and separated
himself from Mirza Ḥuseyn 'Ali and his followers.'

Evidently there was great animosity between the parties, but, in spite
of the _Eight Paradises_, it appears to me that the Ezelites were
chiefly in fault. Who can believe that Baha-'ullah spread abroad his
brother's offences?  [Footnote: _Ibid_.]  On the other hand,
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and his advisers were capable of almost anything from
poisoning and assassination to the forging of spurious letters. I do
not mean to say that they were by any means the first persons in
Persian history to venture on these abnormal actions.

It is again Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel who is responsible for the disturbance of
the community.

It was represented--no doubt by this bitter foe--to the Turkish
Government that Baha-'ullah and his followers were plotting against
the existing order of things, and that when their efforts had been
crowned with success, Baha-'ullah would be designated king.
[Footnote: For another form of the story, see Phelps, _Abbas
Effendi_, p. 46.]  This may really have been a dream of the
Ezelites (we must substitute Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel for Baha-'ullah); the
Bahaites were of course horrified at the idea.  But how should the
Sultan discriminate? So the punishment fell on the innocent as well as
the guilty, on the Bahaites as well as the Ezelites.

The punishment was the removal of Baha-'ullah and his party and
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and his handful of followers, the former to Akka
(Acre) on the coast of Syria, the latter to Famagusta in Cyprus. The
Bahaites were put on board ship at Gallipoli. A full account is given
by Abbas Effendi's sister of the preceding events. It gives one a most
touching idea of the deep devotion attracted by the magnetic
personalities of the Leader and his son.

I have used the expression 'Leader,' but in the course of his stay at
Adrianople Baha-'ullah had risen to a much higher rank than that of
'Leader.' We have seen that at an earlier period of his exile
Baha-'ullah had made known to five of his disciples that he was in
very deed the personage whom the Bāb had enigmatically promised. At
that time, however, Baha-'ullah had pledged those five disciples to
secrecy. But now the reasons for concealment did not exist, and
Baha-'ullah saw (in 1863) that the time had come for a public
declaration. This is what is stated by Abbas Effendi's sister:--
[Footnote: Phelps, pp. 44-46.]

'He then wrote a tablet, longer than any he had before written,
[which] he directed to be read to every Bābī, but first of all to
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel.  He assigned to one of his followers the duty of
taking it to Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel, reading it to him, and returning with
Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel's reply. When Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel had heard the tablet he
did not attempt to refute it; on the contrary he accepted it, and said
that it was true. But he went on to maintain that he himself was
co-equal with the Blessed Perfection, [Footnote: See p. 128.]
affirming that he had a vision on the previous night in which he had
received this assurance.

'When this statement of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel was reported to the Blessed
Perfection, the latter directed that every Bābī should be informed
of it at the time when he heard his own tablet read.  This was done,
and much uncertainty resulted among the believers. They generally
applied to the Blessed Perfection for advice, which, however, he
declined to give. At length he told them that he would seclude himself
from them for four months, and that during this time they must decide
the question for themselves. At the end of that period, all the
Bābīs in Adrianople, with the exception of Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and
five or six others, came to the Blessed Perfection and declared that
they accepted him as the Divine Manifestation whose coming the Bāb
had foretold.  The Bābīs of Persia, Syria, Egypt, and other
countries also in due time accepted the Blessed Perfection with
substantial unanimity.

Baha-'ullah, then, landed in Syria not merely as the leader of the
greater part of the Bābīs at Baghdad, but as the representative of
a wellnigh perfect humanity. He did not indeed assume the title 'The
Point,' but 'The Point' and 'Perfection' are equivalent terms. He was,
indeed, 'Fairer than the sons of men,' [Footnote: Ps. xlv. 2.]  and no
sorrow was spared to him that belonged to what the Jews and Jewish
Christians called 'the pangs of the Messiah.' It is true, crucifixion
does not appear among Baha-'ullah's pains, but he was at any rate
within an ace of martyrdom. This is what Baha-'ullah wrote at the end
of his stay at Adrianople:--[Footnote: Browne, _A Year among the
Persians_, p. 518.]

'By God, my head longeth for the spears for the love of its Lord, and
I never pass by a tree but my heart addresseth it [saying], 'Oh would
that thou wert cut down in my name, and my body were _crucified_
upon thee in the way of my Lord!'

The sorrows of his later years were largely connected with the
confinement of the Bahaites at Acre (Akka). From the same source I
quote the following.

'We are about to shift from this most remote place of banishment
(Adrianople) unto the prison of Acre. And, according to what they say,
it is assuredly the most desolate of the cities of the world, the most
unsightly of them in appearance, the most detestable in climate, and
the foulest in water.'

It is true, the sanitary condition of the city improved, so that
Bahaites from all parts visited Akka as a holy city. Similar
associations belong to Ḥaifa, so long the residence of the saintly
son of a saintly father.

If there has been any prophet in recent times, it is to Baha-'ullah
that we must go. Pretenders like Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel and Muḥammad are
quickly unmasked. Character is the final judge. Baha-'ullah was a man
of the highest class--that of prophets. But he was free from the last
infirmity of noble minds, and would certainly not have separated
himself from others. He would have understood the saying, 'Would God
all the Lord's people were prophets.' What he does say, however, is
just as fine, 'I do not desire lordship over others; I desire all men
to be even as I am.'

He spent his later years in delivering his message, and setting forth
the ideals and laws of the New Jerusalem. In 1892 he passed within the
veil.



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 accoun

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