1846: How the Governor of Isfáhán, Muchihr Khán, managed to save the Báb from the death verdict issued by seventy eminent ‘ulamás and notables in Isfáhán

circa 1930:Imarat-i-Khurshid

No sooner had the Mu’tamíd [Manuchihr Khan, the Governor] been informed of the condemnation pronounced by the ‘ulamás of Isfáhán than he determined, by a plan which he himself conceived, to nullify the effects of that cruel verdict. He issued immediate instructions that towards the hour of sunset the Báb, escorted by five hundred horsemen of the governor’s own mounted bodyguard, should leave the gate of the city and proceed in the direction of Tihrán. Imperative orders had been given that at the completion of each farsang [about 3 to 4 miles] one hundred of this mounted escort should return directly to Isfáhán. To the chief of the last remaining contingent, a man in whom he placed implicit confidence, the Mu’tamíd confidentially intimated his desire that at every maydán [a square or open place, a subdivision of farsang] twenty of the remaining hundred should likewise be ordered by him to return to the city. Of the twenty remaining horsemen, the Mu’tamíd directed that ten should be despatched to Ardistán [a town north of Isfáhán] for the purpose of collecting the taxes levied by the government, and that the rest, all of whom should be of his tried and most reliable men, should, by an unfrequented route, bring the Báb back in disguise to Isfáhán. [1] They were, moreover, instructed so to regulate their march that before dawn of the ensuing day the Báb should have arrived at Isfáhán and should have been delivered into his custody. 

circa 1930: View of the ruins of the section
the Bab occupied

This plan was immediately taken in hand and duly executed. At an unsuspected hour the Báb re-entered the city, was directly conducted to the private residence of the Mu’tamíd, known by the name of Imárat-i-Khurshíd, [2] and was introduced, through a side entrance reserved for the Mu’tamíd himself, into his private apartments. The governor waited in person on the Báb, served His meals, and provided whatever was required for His comfort and safety. [3] 

- Nabil (‘The Dawn-Breakers’; translated and edited by Shoghi Effendi)

[1] According to “A Traveller’s Narrative” (p. 13), the Mu’tamíd gave secret orders that when the Báb reached Murchih-Khar (the second stage out from Isfáhán on the north road, distant about 35 miles therefrom), He should return to Isfáhán.

[2] “Thus this room (in which I find myself) which has neither doors nor definite limits, is today the highest of the dwellings of Paradise, for the Tree of Truth lives herein. It would seem that all the atoms of the room, all sing in one voice, ‘In truth, I am God! There is no other God beside Me, the Lord of all things.’ And they sing above all the rooms of the earth, even above those adorned with mirrors of gold. If, however, the Tree of Truth abides in one of these ornamented rooms, then the atoms of their mirrors sing that song as did and do the atoms of the mirrors of the Palace Sadrí, for in the days of Sád (Isfáhán) he abided therein.” (“Le Bayán Persan,” vol. 1, p. 128.)

[3] According to “A Traveller’s Narrative,” p. 13, the Báb remained four months in that house

“You can kill me as soon as you like, but you cannot stop the emancipation of women.” – Táhirih: “first woman suffrage martyr”

One night, aware that the hour of her death was at hand, she put on the attire of a bride, and anointed herself with perfume, and, sending for the wife of the Kalantar, she communicated to her the secret of her impending martyrdom, and confided to her her last wishes. Then, closeting herself in her chambers, she awaited, in prayer and meditation, the hour which was to witness her reunion with her Beloved. She was pacing the floor of her room, chanting a litany expressive of both grief and triumph, when the farráshes of ‘Azíz Khán-i-Sardár arrived, in the dead of night, to conduct her to the Ílkhání garden, which lay beyond the city gates, and which was to be the site of her martyrdom. When she arrived the Sardár was in the midst of a drunken debauch with his lieutenants, and was roaring with laughter; he ordered offhand that she be strangled at once and thrown into a pit. With that same silken kerchief which she had intuitively reserved for that purpose, and delivered in her last moments to the son of Kalantar who accompanied her, the death of this immortal heroine was accomplished. Her body was lowered into a well, which was then filled with earth and stones, in the manner she herself had desired.

Thus ended the life of this great Bábí heroine, the first woman suffrage martyr, who, at her death, turning to the one in whose custody she had been placed, had boldly declared: “You can kill me as soon as you like, but you cannot stop the emancipation of women.” Her career was as dazzling as it was brief, as tragic as it was eventful. Unlike her fellow-disciples, whose exploits remained, for the most part unknown, and unsung by their contemporaries in foreign lands, the fame of this immortal woman was noised abroad, and traveling with remarkable swiftness as far as the capitals of Western Europe, aroused the enthusiastic admiration and evoked the ardent praise of men and women of divers nationalities, callings and cultures. Little wonder that ‘Abdu’l‑Bahá should have joined her name to those of Sarah, of Ásíyih, of the Virgin Mary and of Fáṭimih, who, in the course of successive Dispensations, have towered, by reason of their intrinsic merits and unique position, above the rank and file of their sex. “In eloquence,” ‘Abdu’l‑Bahá Himself has written, “she was the calamity of the age, and in ratiocination the trouble of the world.” He, moreover, has described her as “a brand afire with the love of God” and “a lamp aglow with the bounty of God.” 

- Shoghi Effendi  (‘God Passes By’)

Trying to get ‘Abdu’l-Baha a new coat

During His prison life in ‘Akka, ‘Abdu’l-Baha often gave His bed to those who had none, and He always refused to own more than one coat. “Why should I have two,” He said, “when there are so many who have none?”

One day ‘Abdu’l-Baha was to entertain the Governor of ‘Akka. ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s wife felt that His old coat was hardly good enough for this important visit. She wished very much that ‘Abdu’l-Baha might have a better coat, but He never noticed what He wore, so long as it was clean. She wondered what she should do.

Finally, she decided that she would have a new coat made for Him, and on the morning of the visit she would put out the new one instead of the old. She felt He would surely never notice the difference. So she ordered a fine and rather expensive coat to be made by a tailor. And on the important day she laid it where ‘Abdu’l-Baha would be sure to find it.

But when ‘Abdu’l-Baha got ready to dress, He noticed right away that something was wrong. So He went searching through the house. He called, “Where is my coat? Where is my coat? Someone has left me a coat which is not mine!”

His wife then tried to explain what had happened, but ‘Abdu’l-Baha, Who always thought of others before He thought of Himself, said, “But think of this! For the price of this coat you can buy five such as I ordinarily use, and do you think I would spend so much money upon a coat which only I shall wear? If you think I need a new one, very well, but send this one back and for the same price have the tailor make me five such as I usually wear. Then, you see, I shall not only have a new one for myself, but I shall also have four more to give away.” 

(Adapted from ‘The Oriental Rose’, by Mary Handford Ford; included in 'Stories about 'Abdu'l-Baha', by Gloria Faizi)