To Mullá Husayn, more particularly, the Báb gave definite
injunctions to send Him a written report on the nature and progress of his
activities in Isfáhán, in Tihrán, and in Khurásán. He urged him to inform Him
of those who accepted and submitted to the Faith, as well as of those who
rejected and repudiated its truth. “Not until I receive your letter from
Khurásán,” He said, “shall I be ready to set out from this city on My
pilgrimage to Hijáz.” 
As the Báb bade farewell to the Letters of the Living, He
instructed them, each and all, to record separately the name of every believer
who embraced the Faith and identified himself with its teachings. The list of
these believers He bade them enclose in sealed letters, and address them to His
maternal uncle, Hájí Mírzá Siyyid ‘Alí, in Shíráz, who would in turn deliver
them to Him. “I shall classify these lists,” He told them, “into eighteen sets
of nineteen names each. Each set will constitute one váhid.[1] All these names,
in these eighteen sets, will, together with the first váhid, consisting of My
own name and those of the eighteen Letters of the Living, constitute the number
of Kull-i-Shay’.[2] Of all these
believers I shall make mention in the Tablet of God, so that upon each one of
them the Beloved of our hearts may, in the Day when He shall have ascended the
throne of glory, confer His inestimable blessings, and declare them the
dwellers of His Paradise.”
On a number of other occasions, Bahá’u’lláh’s ascendancy
over His opponents was likewise vindicated and recognised. These personal
triumphs achieved by Him served to enhance His position, and spread abroad His
fame. All classes of men marvelled at His miraculous success in emerging
unscathed from the most perilous encounters. Nothing short of Divine
protection, they thought, could have ensured His safety on such occasions. Not
once did Bahá’u’lláh, beset though He was by the gravest perils, submit to the
arrogance, the greed, and the treachery of those around Him. In His constant
association, during those days, with the highest dignitaries of the realm,
whether ecclesiastical or State officials, He was never content simply to
accede to the views they expressed or the claims they advanced. He would, at
their gatherings, fearlessly champion the cause of truth, would assert the
rights of the downtrodden, defending the weak and protecting the innocent.
One day, as he [Hájí Mírzá Aqásí, the Grand Vazír of
Muhammad Sháh] was passing through the village of Quch-Hisar, which belonged to
Bahá’u’lláh, he was so impressed by the charm and beauty of that place and the
abundance of its water that he conceived the idea of becoming its owner.
Bahá’u’lláh, whom he had summoned to effect the immediate purchase of that
village, observed:
Hájí Mírzá Aqásí, the Grand Vazír of Muhammad Sháh, though
completely alienated from Bahá’u’lláh’s father, showed his son every mark of
consideration and favour. So great was the esteem which the Ḥájí professed for
Him, that Mírzá Áqá Khán-i-Núrí, the I’timádu’d-Dawlih, who afterwards
succeeded Hájí Mírzá Aqásí, felt envious. He resented the superiority which
Bahá’u’lláh, as a mere youth, was accorded over him. The seeds of jealousy
were, from that time, implanted in his breast. Though still a youth, and while
his father is yet alive, he thought, he is given precedence in the presence of
the Grand Vazír. What will, I wonder, happen to me when this young man shall
have succeeded his father?
When Bahá’u’lláh was still a child, the Vazír, His father,
dreamed a dream. Bahá’u’lláh appeared to him swimming in a vast, limitless
ocean. His body shone upon the waters with a radiance that illumined the sea.
Around His head, which could distinctly be seen above the waters, there
radiated, in all directions, His long, jet-black locks, floating in great
profusion above the waves. As he dreamed, a multitude of fishes gathered round
Him, each holding fast to the extremity of one hair. Fascinated by the
effulgence of His face, they followed Him in whatever direction He swam. Great
as was their number, and however firmly they clung to His locks, not one single
hair seemed to have been detached from His head, nor did the least injury
affect His person. Free and unrestrained, He moved above the waters and they
all followed Him.
Bahá’u’lláh’s visit to Núr had produced the most
far-reaching results, and had lent a remarkable impetus to the spread of the
new-born Revelation. By His magnetic eloquence, by the purity of His life, by
the dignity of His bearing, by the unanswerable logic of His argument, and by
the many evidences of His loving-kindness, Bahá’u’lláh had won the hearts of
the people of Núr, had stirred their souls, and had enrolled them under the
standard of the Faith. Such was the effect of words and deeds, as He went about
preaching the Cause and revealing its glory to His countrymen in Núr, that the
very stones and trees of that district seemed to have been quickened by the
waves of spiritual power which emanated from His person. All things seemed to
be endowed with a new and more abundant life, all things seemed to be
proclaiming aloud: “Behold, the Beauty of God has been made manifest! Arise,
for He has come in all His glory.”
One day, in the course of one of His riding excursions into
the country, Bahá’u’lláh, accompanied by His companions, saw, seated by the
roadside, a lonely youth. His hair was dishevelled, and he wore the dress of a
dervish. By the side of a brook he had kindled a fire, and was cooking his food
and eating it. Approaching him, Bahá’u’lláh most lovingly enquired: “Tell Me,
dervish, what is it that you are doing?” “I am engaged in eating God,” he
bluntly replied. “I am cooking God and am burning Him.” The unaffected
simplicity of his manners and the candour of his reply pleased Bahá’u’lláh
extremely. He smiled at his remark and began to converse with him with
unrestrained tenderness and freedom. Within a short space of time, Bahá’u’lláh
had changed him completely. Enlightened as to the true nature of God, and with
a mind purged from the idle fancy of his own people, he immediately recognised
the Light which that loving Stranger had so unexpectedly brought him. That
dervish, whose name was Mustafá, became so enamoured with the teachings which
had been instilled into his mind that, leaving his cooking utensils behind, he
straightway arose and followed Bahá’u’lláh. On foot, behind His horse, and
inflamed with the fire of His love, he chanted merrily verses of a love-song
which he had composed on the spur of the moment and had dedicated to his
Beloved. “Thou art the Day-Star of guidance,” ran its glad refrain. “Thou art
the Light of Truth. Unveil Thyself to men, O Revealer of the Truth.” Although,
in later years, that poem obtained wide circulation among his people, and it
became known that a certain dervish, surnamed Majdhúb, and whose name was
Mustafá Big-i-Sanandají, had, without premeditation, composed it in praise of
his Beloved, none seemed to be aware to whom it actually referred, nor did
anyone suspect, at a time when Bahá’u’lláh was still veiled from the eyes of
men, that this dervish alone had recognised His station and discovered His
glory.
Mullá Muhammad disparagingly remarked: “I undertake no action
unless I first consult the Qur’án. I have invariably, on such occasions,
followed the practice of invoking the aid of God and His blessings; of opening
at random His sacred Book, and of consulting the first verse of the particular
page upon which my eyes chance to fall. From the nature of that verse I can
judge the wisdom and the advisability of my contemplated course of action.”
Finding that Bahá’u’lláh was not inclined to refuse him his request, the
mujtahid called for a copy of the Qur’án, opened and closed it again, refusing
to reveal the nature of the verse to those who were present. All he said was
this: “I have consulted the Book of God, and deem it inadvisable to proceed
further with this matter.” A few agreed with him; the rest, for the most part,
did not fail to recognise the fear which those words implied. Bahá’u’lláh,
disinclined to cause him further embarrassment, arose and, asking to be
excused, bade him a cordial farewell.
“I have not come to this place,” Bahá’u’lláh observed, “to
pay you an official or formal visit. My purpose is to enlighten you regarding a
new and wondrous Message, divinely inspired and fulfilling the promise given to
Islám. Whosoever has inclined his ear to this Message has felt its irresistible
power, and has been transformed by the potency of its grace. Tell Me whatsoever
perplexes your mind, or hinders you from recognising the Truth.”
Desirous of giving effect to His words, Bahá’u’lláh,
accompanied by a number of His companions, proceeded immediately to that
village. Mullá Muhammad most ceremoniously received Him.
In their admiration for Him [Baha'u'llah], a number of the most
distinguished among them remarked: “We see how the people of Núr have risen and
rallied round you. We witness on every side evidences of their exultation. If
Mullá Muhammad were also to join them, the triumph of this Faith would be
completely assured.” “I am come to Núr,” Bahá’u’lláh replied, “solely for the
purpose of proclaiming the Cause of God. I cherish no other intention. If I
were told that at a distance of a hundred leagues a seeker yearned for the
Truth and was unable to meet Me, I would, gladly and unhesitatingly, hasten to
his abode, and would Myself satisfy his hunger. Mullá Muhammad, I am told,
lives in Sa’adat-Ábád, a village not far distant from this place. It is My
purpose to visit him and deliver to him the Message of God.”
On being informed, upon their arrival in Tákúr, that
Bahá’u’lláh had departed for His winter resort, the representatives of Mullá
Muhammad decided to leave for that place. When they arrived, they found
Bahá’u’lláh engaged in revealing a commentary on the opening Súrih of the
Qur’án, entitled “The Seven Verses of Repetition.” As they sat and listened to
His discourse, the loftiness of the theme, the persuasive eloquence which
characterised its presentation, as well as the extraordinary manner of its
delivery, profoundly impressed them. Mullá Abbás, unable to contain himself,
arose from his seat and, urged by an impulse he could not resist, walked back
and stood still beside the door in an attitude of reverent submissiveness. The
charm of the discourse to which he was listening had fascinated him. “You
behold my condition,” he told his companion as he stood trembling with emotion
and with eyes full of tears. “I am powerless to question Bahá’u’lláh. The
questions I had planned to ask Him have vanished suddenly from my memory. You
are free either to proceed with your enquiry or to return alone to our teacher
and inform him of the state in which I find myself. Tell him from me that Abbás
can never again return to him. He can no longer forsake this threshold.” Mírzá
Abu’l-Qásim was likewise moved to follow the example of his companion. “I have
ceased to recognise my teacher,” was his reply. “This very moment, I have vowed
to God to dedicate the remaining days of my life to the service of Bahá’u’lláh,
my true and only Master.”
The disciples of Mullá Muhammad meanwhile endeavoured to
persuade their teacher to proceed to Tákúr, to visit Bahá’u’lláh in person, to
ascertain from Him the nature of this new Revelation, and to enlighten his
followers regarding its character and purpose. To their earnest entreaty the
mujtahid returned an evasive answer. His disciples, however, refused to admit
the validity of the objections he raised. They urged that the first obligation
imposed upon a man of his position, whose function was to preserve the
integrity of shí’ah Islám, was to enquire into the nature of every movement
that tended to affect the interests of their Faith. Mullá Muhammad eventually
decided to delegate two of his eminent lieutenants, Mullá Abbás and Mírzá
Abu’l-Qásim, both sons-in-law and trusted disciples of the late mujtahid, Mírzá
Muhammad-Taqí, to visit Bahá’u’lláh and to determine the true character of the
Message He had brought. He pledged himself to endorse unreservedly whatever
conclusions they might arrive at, and to recognise their decision in such
matters as final.
Those who attained the presence of Bahá’u’lláh and heard Him
expound the Message proclaimed by the Báb were so much impressed by the
earnestness of His appeal that they forthwith arose to disseminate that same
Message among the people of Núr and to extol the virtues of its distinguished
Promoter.
Alarmed, he [Baha’u’llah’s uncle] sought the aid of the mujtahid of Núr, Mullá
Muhammad, and appealed to him to lend him immediate assistance. “O vicegerent
of the Prophet of God!” he said. “Behold what has befallen the Faith. A youth,
a layman, attired in the garb of nobility, has come to Núr, has invaded the
strongholds of orthodoxy, and disrupted the holy Faith of Islám. Arise, and
resist his onslaught. Whoever attains his presence falls immediately under his
spell, and is enthralled by the power of his utterance. I know not whether he
is a sorcerer, or whether he mixes with his tea some mysterious substance that
makes every man who drinks the tea fall a victim to its charm.” The mujtahid,
notwithstanding his own lack of comprehension, was able to realise the folly of
such remarks. Jestingly he observed: “Have you not partaken of his tea, or
heard him address his companions?” “I have,” he replied, “but, thanks to your
loving protection, I have remained immune from the effect of his mysterious
power.” The mujtahid, finding himself unequal to the task of arousing the
populace against Bahá’u’lláh, and of combating directly the ideas which so
powerful an opponent was fearlessly spreading, contented himself with a written
statement in which he declared: “O Azíz, be not afraid, no one will dare molest
you.” In writing this, the mujtahid had, through a grammatical error, so
perverted the purport of his statement, that those who read it among the
notables of the village of Tákúr were scandalised by its meaning, and vilified
both the bearer and the author of that statement.
None dared to contend with His [Bahá’u’lláh's] views except His uncle Azíz,
who ventured to oppose Him, challenging His statements and aspersing their
truth. When those who heard him sought to silence this opponent and to injure
him, Bahá’u’lláh intervened in his behalf, and advised them to leave him in the
hands of God.
His [Bahá’u’lláh’s] speech was like a ‘rushing torrent’ and
his clearness in exposition brought the most learned divines to his feet.”
When, in the year ’60, [1844] Bahá’u’lláh arrived in Núr, He
discovered that the celebrated mujtahid who on His previous visit had wielded
such immense power had passed away. The vast number of his devotees had shrunk
into a mere handful of dejected disciples who, under the leadership of his
successor, Mullá Muhammad, were striving to uphold the traditions of their
departed leader. The enthusiasm which greeted Bahá’u’lláh’s arrival sharply
contrasted with the gloom that had settled upon the remnants of that once
flourishing community. A large number of the officials and notables in that
neighbourhood called upon Him and, with every mark of affection and respect,
accorded Him a befitting welcome. They were eager, in view of the social
position He occupied, to learn from Him all the news regarding the life of the
Sháh, the activities of his ministers, and the affairs of his government. To
their enquiries Bahá’u’lláh replied with extreme indifference, and seemed to
reveal very little interest or concern. With persuasive eloquence He pleaded
the cause of the new Revelation, and directed their attention to the
immeasurable benefits which it was destined to confer upon their country. Those who heard Him marvelled at the keen
interest which a man of His position and age evinced for truths which primarily
concerned the divines and theologians of Islám. They felt powerless to
challenge the soundness of His arguments or to belittle the Cause which He so
ably expounded. They admired the loftiness of His enthusiasm and the profundity
of His thoughts, and were deeply impressed by His detachment and
self-effacement.
“In my second dream,” the mujtahid continued, “I found
myself in a place where I beheld around me a number of coffers, each of which,
it was stated, belonged to Bahá’u’lláh. As I opened them, I found them to be
filled with books. Every word and letter recorded in these books was set with
the most exquisite jewels. Their radiance dazzled me. I was so overpowered by
their brilliance that I awoke suddenly from my dream.”
Later on, when Bahá’u’lláh had departed, [from Tehran for
Mazindaran] the mujtahid related to his disciples two of his recent dreams, the
circumstances of which he believed were of the utmost significance. “In my
first dream,” he said, “I was standing in the midst of a vast concourse of
people, all of whom seemed to be pointing to a certain house in which they said
the Sáhibu’z-Zamán dwelt. Frantic with joy, I hastened in my dream to attain
His presence. When I reached the house, I was, to my great surprise, refused
admittance. ‘The promised Qá’im,’ I was informed, ‘is engaged in private
conversation with another Person. Access to them is strictly forbidden.’ From
the guards who were standing beside the door, I gathered that that Person was
none other than Bahá’u’lláh.