The news of the tragic fate which had befallen the heroes of
Tabarsí brought immeasurable sorrow to the heart of the Báb. Confined in His
prison-castle of Chihríq, severed from the little band of His struggling
disciples, He watched with keen anxiety the progress of their labours and
prayed with unremitting zeal for their victory. How great was His sorrow when,
in the early days of Sha’bán in the year 1265 A.H., [June 22-July 21, 1849
A.D.] He came to learn of the trials that had beset their path, of the agony
they had suffered, of the betrayal to which an exasperated enemy had felt
compelled to resort, and of the abominable butchery with which their career had
ended.
“The Báb was heart-broken,” His amanuensis, Siyyid Ḥusayn-i-‘Azíz,
subsequently related [to Nabil], “at the receipt of this unexpected
intelligence. He was crushed with grief, a grief that stilled His voice and
silenced His pen. For nine days He refused to meet any of His friends. I
myself, though His close and constant attendant, was refused admittance.
Whatever meat or drink we offered Him, He was disinclined to touch. Tears
rained continually from His eyes, and expressions of anguish dropped
unceasingly from His lips. I could hear Him, from behind the curtain, give vent
to His feelings of sadness as He communed, in the privacy of His cell, with His
Beloved. I attempted to jot down the effusions of His sorrow as they poured
forth from His wounded heart. Suspecting that I was attempting to preserve the
lamentations He uttered, He bade me destroy whatever I had recorded. Nothing
remains of the moans and cries with which that heavy-laden heart sought to
relieve itself of the pangs that had seized it. For a period of five months He
languished, immersed in an ocean of despondency and sorrow.”
