The Hand That Signed the Order: The Fall of the Grand Vizier
Shoghi Effendi, God Passes By, (1944), Bahá'í Publishing Trust · Read original
When in Bahá'í history
Tabríz (today: Tabríz, Iran)

A retelling based on God Passes By by Shoghi Effendi, the authoritative history of the Faith's first century, and the historical record it preserves. Short phrases in quotation marks are words used by Shoghi Effendi in that work.
The Báb did not die by accident, nor at the hands of a mob. His death was decreed, deliberately and from the summit of power, by one man: Mírzá Taqí Khán, the chief minister of Persia, known as the Amír-Niẓám. He was, in those years, the most powerful figure in the kingdom after the young Sháh — the architect of the realm's policy, feared and obeyed throughout the land. And it was he who resolved that the Cause of the Báb must be cut off at its root by the killing of its Author.
Shoghi Effendi does not soften the portrait. In God Passes By he sets down the character of the man who ordered the martyrdom in plain and terrible words, describing the Amír-Niẓám as arbitrary, bloodthirsty, and reckless — the minister "who decreed His death in Tabríz." It was this same minister who, finding the Báb's influence undiminished by years of imprisonment in the mountain fortresses of the northwest, sought and obtained the fatwá of the leading clerics, overrode the reluctance of those who shrank from the deed, and forced the execution through to its end. The blood of the 9th of July, 1850, was on his hands above all others.
He believed, no doubt, that he had won. The hated tree was felled; its Author was dead; the State had asserted its mastery. The histories record the cold confidence of the Báb's enemies in that hour, certain that the new Faith had been severed at the root and would now wither away. The Amír-Niẓám stood at the height of his fortunes, secure, it seemed, in the favour of his sovereign and the mastery of his office.
How brief that height proved to be. Within little more than a year of the martyrdom he had commanded, the whole edifice of his power came crashing down. The favour of the Sháh, on which everything had rested, was withdrawn. The all-powerful minister was dismissed from his office, stripped of his authority, and banished from the court — sent away, disgraced, to the seclusion of a royal garden at Fín, near Káshán. And there, not long after, by secret order, the man who had decreed the death of the Báb was himself put to death — his veins opened in the bath of that very garden, his life ended in the same enforced silence and helplessness to which he had condemned his innocent Victim. He who had wielded the power of life and death over a kingdom could not, in the end, preserve his own.
The Bahá'í histories do not present this as a mere turn of court intrigue, one faction supplanting another in the endless rivalries of a royal household. They read in it something deeper: a vindication. The Báb, brought in chains before the divines of Tabríz two years earlier, had warned that those who rejected the truth would not be "let alone" and left unproven; and as His mangled body lay in its hidden resting place, the hand that had signed His death-warrant was already being drawn toward its own ruin. Nor was the Amír-Niẓám alone in such a fate; the very regiments and officials bound up in the crime would, the chronicles relate, be overtaken by disaster in the years that followed. The people of Tabríz, recalling what had been done, wondered aloud whether some justice greater than the State's was at work.
Set the two deaths side by side, and the lesson of the Day of the Martyrdom comes clear. The Báb went to His end radiant, composed, the master of His own hour, having finished the work for which He had come — and from that death His Cause did not wither but spread across the earth, until a golden-domed Shrine rose over His remains on Mount Carmel. The minister who killed Him went to his end in disgrace and dread, his power broken, his name remembered chiefly for the crime he committed. The world counted the Báb defeated and the Amír-Niẓám triumphant. Time reversed the verdict utterly.
This is why we remember not only the Martyr but the meaning of the martyrdom. The powers that gather to extinguish the light of God may command every earthly advantage, and may even, for an hour, appear to succeed. But their triumph is an illusion and their hour is short. The Cause they strike at endures; and the hand raised against it does not, in the end, prosper.
This is a retelling. For the fuller account, see God Passes By by Shoghi Effendi.
Cite this story
Effendi, S.. (1944). *God Passes By*. Bahá'í Publishing Trust. https://www.bahai.org/library/authoritative-texts/shoghi-effendi/god-passes-by/
Record yourself reading this story
Recording stays on this device only. Nothing is uploaded.
Related stories
In His Own Words: 'Abdu'l-Bahá Recounts the Martyrdom
In A Traveler's Narrative, written for the world beyond Persia, 'Abdu'l-Bahá sets down the martyrdom of the Báb with the calm precision of a witness to sacred history: the order of the Grand Vizier, the Christian regiment ranged in three files, the volleys that severed the ropes, and the deep truth He draws from it — that persecution, in matters of conscience, only strengthens what it means to destroy.
It Is Finished, I Am Ready
On a July morning in 1850, the Báb was brought to a barracks square in Tabríz to be shot. What happened when the smoke of the first volley cleared astonished the thousands who watched. A retelling from Lady Blomfield's The Chosen Highway.
Anís at the Báb's Side: The Martyrdom in Tabríz
Nabíl's narrative of the morning of July 9, 1850, in the barrack square of Tabríz: the young follower Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Alíy-i-Zunúzí, called Anís, who begged to die with the Báb; the first volley that severed the ropes; the Báb's interrupted conversation; and His final words to the regiment.
The Smoke That Cleared: Esslemont Tells the West of the Báb
When Dr. John Esslemont set out to introduce the Báb to Western readers, he told the story of the barrack-square plainly: the two suspended by ropes, the regiment's volley, the smoke clearing upon two figures unhurt, and a second regiment summoned to finish what the first would not. He saw in that "pure and beautiful soul" a Forerunner — like John the Baptist of old — who insisted to the end that One greater than Himself was coming.