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CHAPTER VII
THE BAB'S PILGRIMAGE TO MECCA
AND MEDINA
HE letter of Mulla Husayn decided the Bab to undertake His contemplated
pilgrimage to Hijaz. Entrusting His wife to His mother, and committing them both
to the care and protection of His maternal uncle, He joined the company of the
pilgrims of Fars who were preparing to leave Shiraz for Mecca and Medina.(1)
Quddus was His only companion, and the Ethiopian servant His personal attendant.
He first proceeded to Bushihr, the seat of His uncle's business, where in former
days He, in close association with him, had lived the life of a humble merchant.
Having there completed the preliminary arrangements for His long and arduous voyage,
He embarked on a sailing vessel, which, after two months of slow, stormy, and
unsteady sailing, landed Him upon the shores of that sacred land.(2)
High seas and the complete absence of comfort could
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neither interfere with the
regularity of His devotions nor perturb the peacefulness of His meditations and
prayers. Oblivious of the storm that raged about Him, and undeterred by the sickness
which had seized His fellow-pilgrims, He continued to occupy His time in dictating
to Quddus such prayers and epistles as He felt inspired to reveal.
I have heard Haji Abu'l-Hasan-i-Shirazi,
who was travelling in the same vessel as the Bab, describe the circumstances of
that memorable voyage: "During the entire period of approximately two months,"
he asserted, "from the day we embarked at Bushihr to the day when we landed at
Jaddih, the port of Hijaz, whenever by day or night I chanced to meet either the
Bab or Quddus, I invariably found them together, both absorbed in their work.
The Bab seemed to be dictating, and Quddus was busily engaged in taking down whatever
fell from His lips. Even at a time when panic seemed to have seized the passengers
of that storm-tossed vessel, they would be seen pursuing their labours with unperturbed
confidence and calm. Neither the violence of the elements nor the tumult of the
people around them could either ruffle the serenity of their countenance or turn
them from their purpose."
The Bab Himself, in the Persian
Bayan, (1) refers to the
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hardships of that voyage.
"For days," He wrote, "we suffered from the scarcity of water. I had to content
myself with the juice of the sweet lemon." Because of this experience, He supplicated
the Almighty to grant that the means of ocean travel might soon be speedily improved,
that its hardships might be reduced, and its perils be entirely eliminated. Within
a short space of time, since that prayer was offered, the evidences of a remarkable
improvement in all forms of maritime transport have greatly multiplied, and the
Persian Gulf, which in those days hardly possessed a single steam-driven vessel,
now boasts a fleet of ocean liners that can, within the range of a few days and
in the utmost comfort, carry the people of Fars on their annual pilgrimage to
Hijaz.
The peoples of the West, among whom the first
evidences of this great Industrial Revolution have appeared, are, alas, as yet
wholly unaware of the Source whence this mighty stream, this great motive power,
proceeds--a force that has revolutionised every aspect of their material life.
Their own history testifies to the fact that in the year which witnessed the dawn
of this glorious Revelation, there suddenly appeared evidences of an industrial
and economic revolution that the people themselves declare to have been unprecedented
in the history of mankind. In their concern for the details of the working and
adjustments of this newly conceived machinery, they have gradually lost sight
of the Source and object of this tremendous power which the Almighty has committed
to their charge. They seem to have sorely misused this power and misunderstood
its function. Designed to confer upon the people of the West the blessings of
peace and of happiness, it has been utilised by them to promote the interests
of destruction and war.
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Upon His arrival in Jaddih, the Bab donned
the pilgrim's garb, mounted a camel, and set out on His journey to Mecca. Quddus,
however, notwithstanding the repeatedly expressed desire of his Master, preferred
to accompany Him on foot all the way from Jaddih to that holy city. Holding in
his hand the bridle of the camel upon which the Bab was riding, he walked along
joyously and prayerfully, ministering to his Master's needs, wholly indifferent
to the fatigues of his arduous march. Every night, from eventide until the break
of day, Quddus, sacrificing comfort and sleep, would continue with unrelaxing
vigilance to watch beside his Beloved, ready to provide for His wants and to ensure
the means of His protection and safety.
One day, when the Bab had dismounted close
to a well in order to offer His morning prayer, a roving Bedouin suddenly appeared
on the horizon, drew near to Him, and, snatching the saddlebag that had been lying
on the ground beside Him, and which contained His writings and papers, vanished
into the unknown desert. His Ethiopian servant set out to pursue him, but was
prevented by his Master, who, as He was praying, motioned to him with His hand
to give up his pursuit. "Had I allowed you," the Bab later on affectionately assured
him, "you would surely have overtaken and punished him. But this was not to be.
The papers and writings which that bag contained are destined to reach, through
the instrumentality of this Arab, such places as we could never have succeeded
in attaining. Grieve not, therefore, at his action, for this was decreed by God,
the Ordainer, the Almighty." Many a time afterwards did the Bab on similar occasions
seek to comfort His friends by such reflections. By words such as these He turned
the bitterness of regret and of resentment into radiant acquiescence in the Divine
purpose and into joyous submission to God's will.
On the day of Arafat,(1)
the Bab, seeking the quiet seclusion of His cell, devoted His whole time to meditation
and worship. On the following day, the day of Nahr, after He had offered the feast-day
prayer, He proceeded to Muna, where, according to ancient custom, He purchased
nineteen lambs of the choicest breed, of which He sacrificed nine in
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His own name, seven in the
name of Quddus, and three in the name of His Ethiopian servant. He refused to
partake of the meat of this consecrated sacrifice, preferring instead to distribute
it freely among the poor and needy of that neighbourhood.
Although the month of Dhi'l-Hijjih,(1)
the month of pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, coincided in that year with the first
month of the winter season, yet so intense was the heat in that region that the
pilgrims who made the circuit of
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the
sacred shrine were unable to perform that rite in their usual garments. Draped
in a light, loose-fitting tunic, they joined in the celebration of the festival.
The Bab, however, refused, as a mark of deference, to discard either His turban
or cloak. Dressed in His usual attire, He, with the utmost dignity and calm, and
with extreme simplicity and reverence, compassed the Ka'bih and performed all
the prescribed rites of worship.
On the last day of His pilgrimage
to Mecca, the Bab met Mirza Muhit-i-Kirmani. He stood facing the Black Stone,
when the Bab approached him and, taking his hand in His, addressed him in these
words: "O Muhit! You regard yourself as one of the most outstanding figures of
the shaykhi community and a distinguished exponent of its teachings. In your heart
you even claim to be one of the direct successors and rightful inheritors of those
twin great Lights, those Stars that have heralded the morn of Divine guidance.
Behold, we are both now standing within this most sacred shrine. Within its hallowed
precincts, He whose Spirit dwells in this place can cause Truth immediately to
be known and distinguished from falsehood, and righteousness from error. Verily
I declare, none besides Me in this day, whether in the East or in the West, can
claim to be the Gate that leads men to the knowledge of God. My proof is none
other than that proof whereby the truth of the Prophet Muhammad was established.
Ask Me whatsoever you please; now, at this very moment, I pledge Myself to reveal
such verses as can demonstrate the truth of My mission. You must choose either
to submit yourself unreservedly to My Cause or to repudiate it entirely. You have
no other alternative. If you choose to reject My message, I will not let go your
hand until you pledge your word to declare publicly your repudiation
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of the Truth which I have
proclaimed. Thus shall He who speaks the Truth be made known, and he that speaks
falsely shall be condemned to eternal misery and shame. Then shall the way of
Truth be revealed and made manifest to all men."
This peremptory challenge, thrust so unexpectedly
by the Bab upon Mirza Muhit-i-Kirmani, profoundly distressed him. He was overpowered
by its directness, its compelling
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majesty and force. In the
presence of that Youth, he, notwithstanding his age, his authority and learning,
felt as a helpless bird prisoned in the grasp of a mighty eagle. Confused and
full of fear, he replied: "My Lord, my Master! Ever since the day on which my
eyes beheld You in Karbila, I seemed at last to have found and recognised Him
who had been the object of my quest. I renounce whosoever has failed to recognise
You, and despise him in whose heart may yet linger the faintest misgivings as
to Your purity and holiness. I pray You to overlook my weakness, and entreat You
to answer me in my perplexity. Please God I may, at this very place, within the
precincts of this hallowed shrine, swear my fealty to You, and arise for the triumph
of Your Cause. If I be insincere in what I declare, if in my heart I should disbelieve
what my lips proclaim, I would deem myself utterly unworthy of the grace of the
Prophet of God, and regard my action as an act of manifest disloyalty to Ali,
His chosen successor."
The Bab, who listened attentively to his words,
and who was well aware of his helplessness and poverty of soul, answered and said:
"Verily I say, the Truth is even now known and distinguished from falsehood. O
shrine of the Prophet of God, and you, O Quddus, who have believed in Me! I take
you both, in this hour, as My witnesses. You have seen and heard that which has
come to pass between Me and him. I call upon you to testify thereunto, and God,
verily, is, beyond and above you, My sure and ultimate Witness. He is the All-Seeing,
the All-Knowing, the All-Wise. O Muhit! Set forth whatsoever perplexes your mind,
and I will, by the aid of God, unloose My tongue and undertake to resolve your
problems, so that you may testify to the excellence of My utterance and realise
that no one besides Me is able to manifest My wisdom."
Mirza Muhit responded to the invitation of
the Bab and submitted to Him his questions. Pleading the necessity of his immediate
departure for Medina, he expressed the hope of receiving, ere his departure from
that city, the text of the promised reply. "I will grant your request," the Bab
assured him. On My way to Medina I shall, with the assistance of God, reveal My
answer to your questions. If I meet you
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not in that city, My reply
will surely reach you immediately after your arrival at Karbila. Whatever justice
and fairness may dictate, the same shall I expect you to fulfil. `If ye do well,
to your own behoof will ye do well: and if ye do evil, against yourselves will
ye do it.' `God is verily independent of all His creatures.'"(1)
Mirza Muhit, ere his departure, again expressed
his firm resolve to redeem his solemn pledge. "I shall never depart from Medina,"
he assured the Bab, "whatever may betide, until I have fulfilled my covenant with
You." As the mote which is driven before the gale, he, unable to withstand the
sweeping majesty of the Revelation proclaimed by the Bab, fled in terror from
before His face. He tarried awhile in Medina and, faithless to his pledge and
disregardful of the admonitions of his conscience, left for Karbila.
The Bab, faithful to His promise, revealed,
on His way from Mecca to Medina, His written reply to the questions that had perplexed
the mind of Mirza Muhit, and gave it the name of Sahifiyi-i-Baynu'l-Haramayn.(2)
Mirza Muhit, who received it in the early days of his arrival in Karbila, remained
unmoved by its tone and refused to recognise the precepts which it inculcated.
His attitude towards the Faith was one of concealed and persistent opposition.
At times he professed to be a follower and supporter of that notorious adversary
of the Bab, Haji Mirza Karim Khan, and occasionally claimed for himself the station
of an independent leader. Nearing the end of his days, whilst residing in Iraq,
he, feigning submission to Baha'u'llah, expressed, through one of the Persian
princes who dwelt in Baghdad, a desire to meet Him. He requested that his proposed
interview be regarded as strictly confidential. "Tell him," was Baha'u'llah's
reply, "that in the days of My retirement in the mountains of Sulaymaniyyih, I,
in a certain ode which I composed, set forth the essential requirements from every
wayfarer who treads the path of search in his quest of Truth. Share with him this
verse from that ode: `If thine aim be to cherish thy life, approach not our court;
but if sacrifice be thy heart's desire, come and let others come with thee. For
such is the way of Faith, if in
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thy heart thou seekest reunion
with Baha; shouldst thou refuse to tread this path, why trouble us? Begone!' If
he be willing, he will openly and unreservedly hasten to meet Me; if not, I refuse
to see him." Baha'u'llah's unequivocal answer disconcerted Mirza Muhit. Unable
to resist and unwilling to comply, he departed for his home in Karbila the very
day he received that message. As soon as he arrived, he sickened, and, three days
later, he died.
No sooner had the Bab performed
the last of the observances in connection with His pilgrimage to Mecca than he
addressed an epistle to the Sherif of that holy city, wherein He set forth, in
clear and unmistakable terms, the distinguishing features of His mission, and
called upon him to arise and embrace His Cause. This epistle, together with selections
from His other writings, He delivered to Quddus, and instructed him to present
them to the Sherif. The latter, however, too absorbed in his own material pursuits
to incline his ear to the words which had been addressed to him by the Bab, failed
to respond to the call of the Divine Message. Haji Niyaz-i-Baghdadi has been heard
to relate the following: "In the year 1267 A.H.,(1)
I undertook a pilgrimage to that holy city, where I was privileged to meet the
Sherif. In the course of his conversation with me, he said: `I recollect that
in the year '60, during the season of pilgrimage, a youth came to visit me. He
presented to me a sealed book which I readily accepted but was too much occupied
at that time to read. A few days later I met again that same youth, who asked
me whether I had any reply to make to his offer. Pressure of work had again detained
me from considering the contents of that book. I was therefore unable to give
him a satisfactory reply. When the season of pilgrimage was over, one day, as
I was sorting out my letters, my eyes fell accidentally upon that book. I opened
it and found, in its introductory pages, a moving and exquisitely written homily
which was followed by verses the tone and language of which bore a striking resemblance
to the Qur'an. All that I gathered from the perusal of the book was that among
the people of Persia a man of the seed of Fatimih and descendant of the family
of Hashim, had raised a new call, and was announcing
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to all people the appearance
of the promised Qa'im. I remained, however, ignorant of the name of the author
of that book, nor was I informed of the circumstances attending that call.' `A
great commotion,' I remarked, `has indeed seized that land during the last few
years. A Youth, a descendant of the Prophet and a merchant by profession, has
claimed that His utterance was the Voice of Divine inspiration. He has publicly
asserted that, within the space of a few days, there could stream from His tongue
verses of such number and excellence as would surpass in volume and beauty the
Qur'an itself--a work which it took Muhammad no less than twenty-three years to
reveal. A multitude of people, both high and low, civil and ecclesiastical, among
the inhabitants of Persia, have rallied round His standard and have willingly
sacrificed themselves in His path. That Youth has, during the past year, in the
last days of the month of Sha'ban,(1)
suffered martyrdom in Tabriz, in the province of Adhirbayjan. They who persecuted
Him sought by this means to extinguish the light which He kindled in that land.
Since His martyrdom, however, His influence has pervaded all classes of people.'
The Sherif, who was listening attentively, expressed his indignation at the behaviour
of those
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who had persecuted the Bab.
`The malediction of God be upon these evil people,' he exclaimed, `a people who,
in days past, treated in the same manner our holy and illustrious ancestors!'
With these words the Sherif concluded his conversation with me."
From Mecca the Bab proceeded
to Medina. It was the first day of the month of Muharram, in the year 1261 A.H.,(1)
when He found Himself on the way to that holy city. As He approached it, He called
to mind the stirring events that had immortalised the name of Him who had lived
and died within its walls. Those scenes which bore eloquent testimony to the creative
power of that immortal Genius seemed to be re-enacted, with undiminished splendour,
before His eyes. He prayed as He drew nigh unto that holy sepulchre which enshrined
the mortal remains of the Prophet of God. He also remembered, as He trod that
holy ground, that shining Herald of His own Dispensation. He knew that in the
cemetery of Baqi', in a place not far distant from the shrine of Muhammad, there
had been laid to rest Shaykh Ahmad-i-Ahsa'i, the harbinger of His own Revelation,
who, after a life of onerous service, had decided to spend the evening of his
days within the precincts of that hallowed shrine. There came to Him also the
vision of those holy men, those pioneers and martyrs of the Faith, who had fallen
gloriously on the field of battle, and who, with their life-blood, had sealed
the triumph of the Cause of God. Their sacred dust seemed as if reanimated by
the gentle tread of His feet. Their shades seemed to have been stirred by the
reviving breath of His presence. They looked to Him as if they had arisen at His
approach, were hastening towards Him, and were voicing their welcome. They seemed
to be addressing to Him this fervent plea: `Repair not unto Thy native land, we
beseech Thee, O Thou Beloved of our hearts! Abide Thou in our midst, for here,
far from the tumult of Thine enemies who are lying in wait for Thee, Thou shalt
be safe and secure. We are fearful for Thee. We dread the plottings and machinations
of Thy foes. We tremble at the thought that their deeds might bring eternal damnation
to their souls." "Fear not," the Bab's indomitable Spirit replied: "I am come
into this
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world to bear witness to
the glory of sacrifice. You are aware of the intensity of My longing; you realise
the degree of My renunciation. Nay, beseech the Lord your God to hasten the hour
of My martyrdom and to accept My sacrifice. Rejoice, for both I and Quddus will
be slain on the altar of our devotion to the King of Glory. The blood which we
are destined to shed in His path will water and revive the garden of our immortal
felicity. The drops of this consecrated blood will be the seed out of which will
arise the mighty Tree of God, the Tree that will gather beneath its all-embracing
shadow the peoples and kindreds of the earth. Grieve not, therefore, if I depart
from this land, for I am hastening to fulfil My destiny."
