...Among the features of public life in Persia that most
quickly strike the stranger’s eye, and that indirectly arise from the same
conditions, is the enormous number of attendants and retainers that swarm round
a minister, or official of any description. In the case of a functionary of
rank or position, these vary in number from 50 to 500. Benjamin says that the
Prime Minister in his time kept 3,000. Now, the theory of social and ceremonial
etiquette that prevails in Persia, and indeed throughout the East, is to some
extent responsible for this phenomenon, personal importance being, to a large
extent, estimated by the public show which it can make, and by the staff of
servants whom on occasions it can parade. But it is the institution of
‘Madakhil’ and of illicit pickings and stealings that is the root of the evil.
If the governor or minister were bound to pay salaries to the whole of this
servile crew their ranks would speedily dwindle. The bulk of them are unpaid;
they attach themselves to their master because of the opportunities for
extortion with which that connection presents them, and they thrive and fatten
on plunder. It may readily be conceived how great a drain is this swarm of blood-suckers
upon the resources of the country. They are true types of unproductive
labourers, absorbing but never creating wealth; and their existence is little
short of a national calamity.... It is a cardinal point of Persian etiquette
when you go out visiting to take as many of your own establishment with you as
possible, whether riding or walking on foot; the number of such retinue being
accepted as an indication of the rank of the master.
...The ‘madakhil’ is a cherished national institution in
Persia, the exaction of which, in a myriad different forms, whose ingenuity is
only equalled by their multiplicity, is the crowning interest and delight of a
Persian’s existence. This remarkable word, for which Mr. Watson says there is
no precise English equivalent, may be variously translated as commission,
perquisite, douceur, consideration, pickings and stealings, profit, according
to the immediate context in which it is employed. Roughly speaking, it
signifies that balance of personal advantage, usually expressed in money form,
which can be squeezed out of any and every transaction. A negotiation, in which
two parties are involved as donor and recipient, as superior and subordinate,
or even as equal contracting agents, cannot take place in Persia without the
party who can be represented as the author or the favour or service claiming
and receiving a definite cash return for what he has done or given. It may of
course be said that human nature is much the same all the world over; that a
similar system exists under a different name in our own or other countries, and
that the philosophic critic will welcome in the Persian a man and a brother. To
some extent this is true. But in no country that I have ever seen or heard of
in the world, is the system so open, so shameless, or so universal as in
Persia. So far from being limited to the sphere of domestic economy or to
commercial transactions, it permeates every walk and inspires most of the
actions of life. By its operation, generosity or gratuitous service may be said
to have been erased in Persia from the category of social virtues, and cupidity
has been elevated into the guiding principle of human conduct.... Hereby is
instituted an arithmetical progression of plunder from the sovereign to the
subject, each unit in the descending scale remunerating himself from the unit next
in rank below him, and the hapless peasant being the ultimate victim. It is not
surprising, under these circumstances, that office is the common avenue to
wealth, and that cases are frequent of men who, having started from nothing,
are found residing in magnificent houses, surrounded by crowds of retainers and
living in princely style. ‘Make what you can while you can’ is the rule that
most men set before themselves in entering public life. Nor does popular spirit
resent the act; the estimation of any one who, enjoying the opportunity, has
failed to line his own pockets, being the reverse of complimentary to his
sense. No one turns a thought to the sufferers from whom, in the last resort,
the material for these successive ‘madakhils’ has been derived, and from the
sweat of whose uncomplaining brow has been wrung the wealth that is dissipated
in luxurious country houses, European curiosities, and enormous retinues.
...I now come to that which is the cardinal and
differentiating feature of Iranian administration. Government, nay, life
itself, in that country may be said to consist for the most part of an
interchange of presents. Under its social aspects this practice may be supposed
to illustrate the generous sentiments of an amiable people; though even here it
has a grimly unemotional side, as, for instance, when, congratulating yourself
upon being the recipient of a gift, you find that not only must you make a
return of equivalent cost to the donor, but must also liberally remunerate the
bearer of the gift (to whom your return is very likely the sole recognised
means of subsistence) in a ratio proportionate to its pecuniary value. Under
its political aspects, the practice of gift-making, though consecrated in the
adamantine traditions of the East, is synonymous with the system elsewhere
described by less agreeable names. This is the system on which the government
of Persia has been conducted for centuries, and the maintenance of which
opposes a solid barrier to any real reform. From the Sháh downwards, there is
scarcely an official who is not open to gifts, scarcely a post which is not
conferred in return for gifts, scarcely an income which has not been amassed by
the receipt of gifts. Every individual, with hardly an exception, in the
official hierarchy above mentioned, has only purchased his post by a money
present either to the Sháh, or to a minister, or to the superior governor by
whom he has been appointed. If there are several candidates for a post, in all
probability the one who makes the best offer will win.
...Of the general character and accomplishments of the
ministers of the Persian Court, Sir J. Malcolm, in his History, wrote as
follows in the early years of the century: ‘The Ministers and chief officers of
the Court are almost always men of polished manners, well skilled in the
business of their respective departments, of pleasant conversation, subdued
temper, and very acute observation; but these agreeable and useful qualities
are, in general, all that they possess. Nor is virtue or liberal knowledge to
be expected in men whose lives are wasted in attending to forms; whose means of
subsistence are derived from the most corrupt sources; whose occupation is in
intrigues which have always the same objects: to preserve themselves or ruin
others; who cannot, without danger, speak any language but that of flattery and
deceit; and who are, in short, condemned by their condition to be venal,
artful, and false. There have, no doubt, been many ministers of Persia whom it
would be injustice to class under this general description; but even the most
distinguished for their virtues and talents have been forced in some degree to
accommodate their principles to their station; and, unless where the confidence
of their sovereign has placed them beyond the fear of rivals, necessity has
compelled them to practise a subserviency and dissimulation at variance with
the truth and integrity which can alone constitute a claim to the respect all
are disposed to grant to good and great men.’ These observations are marked by
the insight and justice characteristic of their distinguished author, and it is
to be feared that to a large extent they hold as good of the present as of the
old generation.
In a country so backward in constitutional progress, so
destitute of forms and statutes and charters, and so firmly stereotyped in the
immemorial traditions of the East, the personal element, as might be expected,
is largely in the ascendant; and the government of Persia is little else than
the arbitrary exercise of authority by a series of units in a descending scale
from the sovereign to the headman of a petty village. The only check that
operates upon the lower official grades is the fear of their superiors, which
means can usually be found to assuage; upon the higher ranks the fear of the
sovereign, who is not always closed against similar methods of pacification;
and upon the sovereign himself the fear, not of native, but of foreign opinion,
as represented by the hostile criticism of the European Press.... The Sháh,
indeed, may be regarded at this moment as perhaps the best existing specimen of
a moderate despot; for within the limits indicated he is practically
irresponsible and omnipotent. He has absolute command over the life and
property of every one of his subJects. His sons have no independent power, and
can be reduced to impotence or beggary in the twinkling of an eye. The
ministers are elevated and degraded at the royal pleasure. The sovereign is the
sole executive, and all officials are his deputies. No civil tribunals are in
existence to check or modify his prerogative.
...In an upper chamber of the same pavilion, Mírzá
Abu’l-Qásim, the Qá’im-Maqám, or Grand Vazír, of Muhammad Sháh (the father of
the present monarch [Násiri’d-Dín Sháhs]), was strangled in 1835, by order of
his royal master, who therein followed an example set him by his predecessor,
and set one himself that was duly followed by his son. It must be rare in
history to find three successive sovereigns who have put to death, from jealous
motives only, the three ministers who have either raised them to the throne or
were at the time of their fall filling the highest office in the State. Such is
the triple distinction of Fath-‘Alí, Muhammad, and Násiri’d-Dín Sháhs.
 |
Fath-Ali Shah
2nd Qajar King
1772–1834
|
...Such is the divinity that doth hedge a throne in Persia,
that not merely does the Sháh never attend at state dinners or eat with his
subjects at table, with the exception of a single banquet to his principal male
relatives at Naw-rúz, but the attitude and language employed towards him even
by his confidential ministers are those of servile obeisance and adulation.
‘May I be your sacrifice, Asylum of the Universe,’ is the common mode of
address adopted even by subjects of the highest rank. In his own surrounding
there is no one to tell him the truth or to give him dispassionate counsel. The
foreign Ministers are probably almost the only source from which he learns
facts as they are, or receives unvarnished, even if interested, advice. With
the best intentions in the world for the undertaking of great plans and for the
amelioration of his country, he has little or no control over the execution of
an enterprise which has once passed out of his hands and has become the sport
of corrupt and self-seeking officials. Half the money voted with his consent
never reaches its destination, but sticks to every intervening pocket with
which a professional ingenuity can bring it into transient contact; half the
schemes authorised by him are never brought any nearer to realisation, the
minister or functionary in charge trusting to the oblivious caprices of the
sovereign to overlook his dereliction of duty.
Still would the Persian subject endorse the precept of
Sa’dí, [a famous Persian Poet] that ‘The vice approved by the king becomes a
virtue; to seek opposite counsel is to imbrue one’s hands in his own blood.’
The march of time has imposed upon him neither religious council nor secular
council, neither ‘ulamá nor senate. Elective and representative institutions have
not yet intruded their irreverent features. No written check exists upon the
royal prerogative.
In theory the king may do what he pleases; his word is law.
The saying that ‘The law of the Medes and Persians altereth not’ was merely an
ancient periphrasis for the absolutism of the sovereign. He appoints and he may
dismiss all ministers, officers, officials, and judges. Over his own family and
household, and over the civil or military functionaries in his employ, he has
power of life and death without reference to any tribunal. The property of any
such individual, if disgraced or executed, reverts to him. The right to take
life in any case is vested in him alone, but can be delegated to governors or
deputies. All property, not previously granted by the crown or purchased—all
property, in fact, to which a legal title cannot be established—belongs to him,
and can be disposed of at his pleasure. All rights or privileges, such as the
making of public works, the working of mines, the institution of telegraphs,
roads, railroads, tramways, etc., the exploitation, in fact, of any of the
resources of the country, are vested in him, and must be purchased from him
before they can be assumed by others. In his person are fused the threefold
functions of government, legislative, executive, and judicial. No obligation is
imposed upon him beyond the outward observance of the forms of the national
religion. He is the pivot upon which turns the entire machinery of public life.
His chronicle was begun in 1888, when he had the personal
assistance of Mírzá Músá, the brother of Bahá’u’lláh. It was finished in about
a year and a half, and parts of the manuscript were reviewed and approved, some
by Bahá’u’lláh, and others by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
He [Nabil] entered the presence of Bahá’u’lláh in Kirmansháh
and Tihrán before the date of the exile to ‘Iráq, and afterwards was in
attendance upon Him in Baghdád and Adrianople as well as in the prison-city of
Akká. He was sent more than once on missions to Persia to promote the Cause and
to encourage the scattered and persecuted believers, and he was living in Akká when
Bahá’u’lláh passed away in 1892 A.D. The manner of his death was pathetic and
lamentable, for he became so dreadfully affected by the death of the Great
Beloved that, overmastered by grief, he drowned himself in the sea, and his
dead body was found washed ashore near the city of Akká.
The Chronicle of Nabíl as a careful collection of facts made
in the interests of truth and completed in the lifetime of Bahá’u’lláh has now
a unique value. The author was thirteen years old when the Báb declared
Himself, having been born in the village of Zarand in Persia on the eighteenth
day of Safar, 1247 A.H. He was throughout his life closely associated with the
leaders of the Cause. Though he was but a boy at the time, he was preparing to
leave for Shaykh Tabarsí and join the party of Mullá Husayn when the news of
the treacherous massacre of the Bábís frustrated his design. He states in his
narrative that he met, in Tihrán, Hájí Mírzá Siyyid ‘Alí, a brother of the
Báb’s mother, who had just returned at the time from visiting the Báb in the
fortress of Chihríq; and for many years he was a close companion of the Báb’s
secretary, Mírzá Ahmad.
Now the great Movement for which the Báb had prepared the
way began to show the full range and magnificence of its power. Though
Bahá’u’lláh Himself lived and died an exile and a prisoner and was known to few
Europeans, His epistles proclaiming the new Advent were borne to the great
rulers of both hemispheres, from the Sháh of Persia to the Pope and to the
President of the United States. After His passing, His son ‘Abdu’l-Bahá carried
the tidings in person into Egypt and far through the Western world.
‘Abdu’l-Bahá visited England, France, Switzerland, Germany, and America, announcing
everywhere that once again the heavens had opened and that a new Dispensation
had come to bless the sons of men. He died in November, 1921; and to-day the
fire that once seemed to have been put out for ever, burns again in every part
of Persia, has established itself on the American continent, and has laid hold
of every country in the world. Around the sacred writings of Bahá’u’lláh and
the authoritative exposition of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá there is growing a large volume of
literature in comment or in witness. The humanitarian and spiritual principles
enunciated decades ago in the darkest East by Bahá’u’lláh and moulded by Him
into a coherent scheme are one after the other being taken by a world
unconscious of their source as the marks of progressive civilisation. And the
sense that mankind has broken with the past and that the old guidance will not
carry it through the emergencies of the present has filled with uncertainty and
dismay all thoughtful men save those who have learned to find in the story of Bahá’u’lláh
the meaning of all the prodigies and portents of our time.
The Second and greater Manifestation of God was proclaimed
in accordance with the prophecy of the Báb at the date which He had foretold.
Nine years after the beginning of the Bábí Dispensation—that is, in
1853—Bahá’u’lláh, in certain of His odes, alluded to His identity and His
Mission, and ten years later, while resident in Baghdád, declared Himself as
the Promised One to His companions.
Whatever resistance the Bábís offered, here or elsewhere,
proved ineffective. They were overwhelmed by numbers. The Báb Himself was taken
from His cell and executed. Of His chief disciples who avowed their belief in
Him, not one soul was left alive save Bahá’u’lláh, who with His family and a
handful of devoted followers was driven destitute into exile and prison in a
foreign land.
‘Abdu’l-Bahá is quoted in the “Traveller’s Narrative,” pp.
34–35, as making the following statement on the moral aspect of their action:
Many of the incidents of this unhappy story are given by
Nabíl in his history, and among these the happenings at Mázindarán, Nayríz, and
Zanján stand out by reason of the character of the episodes of the heroism of
the Bábís when thus brought to bay. On these three occasions a number of Bábís,
driven to desperation, withdrew in concert from their houses to a chosen
retreat and, erecting defensive works about them, defied in arms further
pursuit. To any impartial witness it was evident that the mullás’ allegations
of a political motive were untrue. The Bábís showed themselves always ready—on
an assurance that they would be no longer molested for their religious
beliefs—to return peacefully to their civil occupations. Nabíl emphasises their
care to refrain from aggression. They would fight for their lives with
determined skill and strength; but they would not attack. Even in the midst of
a fierce conflict they would not drive home an advantage nor strike an
unnecessary blow.
The mullás encountered here no cause for delay and found
little need for scheming. The bigotry of the Muhammadans from the Sháh
downwards could be readily roused against any religious development. The Bábís
could be accused of disloyalty to the Sháh, and dark political motives could be
attributed to their activities. Moreover, the Báb’s followers were already
numerous; many of them were well-to-do, some were rich, and there were few but
had some possessions which covetous neighbours might be instigated to desire.
Appealing to the fears of the authorities and to the base national passions of
fanaticism and cupidity, the mullás inaugurated a campaign of outrage and
spoliation which they maintained with relentless ferocity till they considered
that their purpose had been completely achieved.
His qualities were so rare in their nobility and beauty, His
personality so gentle and yet so forceful, and His natural charm was combined
with so much tact and judgment, that after His Declaration He quickly became in
Persia a widely popular figure. He would win over almost all with whom He was
brought into personal contact, often converting His gaolers to His Faith and
turning the ill-disposed into admiring friends.
The only known record of the Báb’s having been seen by a
European belongs to the period of His persecution when an English physician
resident in Tabríz, Dr. Cormick, was called in by the Persian authorities to
pronounce on the Báb’s mental condition. The doctor’s letter, addressed to a
fellow practitioner in an American mission in Persia, is given in Professor E.
G. Browne’s “Materials for the Study of the Bábí Religion.” “You ask me,”
writes the doctor, “for some particulars of my interview with the founder of
the sect known as Bábís. Nothing of any importance transpired in this
interview, as the Báb was aware of my having been sent with two other Persian
doctors to see whether he was of sane mind or merely a madman, to decide the
question whether he was to be put to death or not. With this knowledge he was
loth to answer any questions put to him. To all enquiries he merely regarded us
with a mild look, chanting in a low melodious voice some hymns, I suppose. Two
other siyyids, his intimate friends, were also present, who subsequently were
put to death with him, besides a couple of government officials. He only
deigned to answer me, on my saying that I was not a Musulman and was willing to
know something about his religion, as I might perhaps be inclined to adopt it.
He regarded me very intently on my saying this, and replied that he had no
doubt of all Europeans coming over to his religion. Our report to the Sháh at
that time was of a nature to spare his life. He was put to death some time
after by the order of the Amír-Nizám, Mírzá Taqí Khán. On our report he merely
got the bastinado, in which operation a farrásh, whether intentionally or not,
struck him across the face with the stick destined for his feet, which produced
a great wound and swelling of the face. On being asked whether a Persian
surgeon should be brought to treat him, he expressed a desire that I should be
sent for, and I accordingly treated him for a few days, but in the interviews
consequent on this I could never get him to have a confidential chat with me,
as some government people were always present, he being a prisoner. He was a
very mild and delicate-looking man, rather small in stature and very fair for a
Persian, with a melodious soft voice, which struck me much. Being a Siyyid, he
was dressed in the habit of that sect, as were also his two companions. In fact
his whole look and deportment went far to dispose one in his favour. Of his
doctrine I heard nothing from his own lips, although the idea was that there
existed in his religion a certain approach to Christianity. He was seen by some
Armenian carpenters, who were sent to make some repairs in his prison, reading
the Bible, and he took no pains to conceal it, but on the contrary told them of
it. Most assuredly the Musulman fanaticism does not exist in his religion, as
applied to Christians, nor is there that restraint of females that now exists.”
The cause of the rejection and persecution of the Báb was in
its essence the same as that of the rejection and persecution of the Christ. If
Jesus had not brought a New Book, if He had not only reiterated the spiritual
principles taught by Moses but had continued Moses’ rules and regulations too,
He might as a merely moral reformer have escaped the vengeance of the Scribes
and Pharisees. But to claim that any part of the Mosaic law, even such material
ordinances as those that dealt with divorce and the keeping of the Sabbath,
could be altered—and altered by an unordained preacher from the village of
Nazareth—this was to threaten the interests of the Scribes and Pharisees
themselves, and since they were the representatives of Moses and of God, it was
blasphemy against the Most High. As soon as the position of Jesus was
understood, His persecution began. As He refused to desist, He was put to
death.
There are many authentic traditions showing that the Qá’im
on His appearance would bring new laws with Him and would thus abrogate Islám.
But this was not the understanding of the established hierarchy. They
confidently expected that the promised Advent would not substitute a new and
richer revelation for the old, but would endorse and fortify the system of
which they were the functionaries. It would enhance incalculably their personal
prestige, would extend their authority far and wide among the nations, and
would win for them the reluctant but abject homage of mankind. When the Báb
revealed His Bayán, proclaimed a new code of religious law, and by precept and
example instituted a profound moral and spiritual reform, the priests
immediately scented mortal danger. They saw their monopoly undermined, their
ambitions threatened, their own lives and conduct put to shame. They rose
against Him in sanctimonious indignation. They declared before the Sháh and all
the people that this upstart was an enemy of sound learning, a subverter of
Islám, a traitor to Mhammad, and a peril not only to the holy church but to the
social order and to the State itself.
Important as these differences are, both sects agree,
however, in expecting a twofold Manifestation. The shí’ahs look for the Qá’im,
who is to come in the fulness of time, and also for the return of the Imám Husayn.
The sunnís await the appearance of the Mihdí and also “the return of Jesus
Christ.” When, at the beginning of his Mission, the Báb, continuing the
tradition of the shí’ahs, proclaimed His function under the double title of,
first, the Qá’im and, second, the Gate, or Báb, some of the Muhammadans
misunderstood the latter reference. They imagined His meaning to be that He was
a fifth Gate In succession to Abu’l-Hasan-‘Alí. His true meaning, however, as
He himself clearly announced, was very different. He was the Qá’im; but the
Qá’im, though a High Prophet, stood in relation to a succeeding and greater
Manifestation as did John the Baptist to the Christ. He was the Forerunner of
One yet more mighty than Himself. He was to decrease; that Mighty One was to
increase. And as John the Baptist had been the Herald or Gate of the Christ, so
was the Báb the Herald or Gate of Bahá’u’lláh.
The sunnís, on the other hand, take a less exalted view of
the office of those who have succeeded the High Prophet. They regard the
vicegerency less as a spiritual than as a practical matter. The Khalíf is, in
their eyes, the Defender of the Faith, and he owes his appointment to the
choice and approval of the People.
