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The Reconciliation of Races and Religions

T >> Thomas Kelly Cheyne >> The Reconciliation of Races and Religions




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


BAHA-'ULLAH (MIRZA HUSEYN ALI OF NUR)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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