Bahai Story Library
The Mountain of Severity: The Báb at Chihríq
“The very severity which His enemies had devised to extinguish His influence served only to spread it the wider.”
Loading…
"The earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens."
Use Ctrl/Cmd + P to print or save as PDF (one slide per page).
Bahai Story Library
“The very severity which His enemies had devised to extinguish His influence served only to spread it the wider.”
*A retelling based on **The Dawn-Breakers: Nabíl's Narrative** (translated by Shoghi Effendi), the epic chronicle of the Bábí period. Phrases in quotation marks are words preserved in that history.*
1 / 15
When the chief minister of Persia, Ḥájí Mírzá Áqásí, learned that his first attempt to silence the Báb had failed, he did not abandon the plan. He doubled it. The Báb had been imprisoned in the mountain fortress of Máh-Kú, on the western frontier, in country the minister supposed would be cold and unfriendly to Him.
2 / 15
There, instead, the Kurdish villagers had been drawn to Him, the warden had been won over, and the believers had managed to reach Him in numbers. So the minister ordered the Báb removed to a still harsher place: the citadel of Chihríq, which Nabíl tells us the Báb Himself called the *Jabal-i-Shadíd* — "the Mountain of Severity."
3 / 15
Everything about the new prison was chosen for cruelty. It was remote and bleak. Its keeper, a man named Yaḥyá Khán, was related by blood to the royal household and was expected to be implacable. The surrounding population were Sunnís of Kurdish stock, presumed to feel nothing but contempt for a young Siyyid from the distant south who claimed a great station. Áqásí calculated that here, at last, the Prisoner would be sealed away from every sympathetic soul and His influence would wither.
4 / 15
The calculation collapsed exactly as it had at Máh-Kú.
5 / 15
Nabíl records that the warden Yaḥyá Khán, set there to be severe, fell instead under the spell of his Captive. The strictness he had been ordered to enforce loosened in spite of him; like the warden before him, he could not keep the gates closed against the friends who came.
6 / 15
The people of Chihríq and of the villages round about — the very people whose hostility had been counted upon — were so won by the bearing and the holiness of the Prisoner in their midst that they began to revere Him. Their attachment grew so open that the authorities took alarm.
7 / 15
So warmly did the town come to regard Him that, Nabíl notes, the inhabitants would invoke His name in their oaths, swearing by the One held in the fortress above them.
8 / 15
And through it all the Báb's pen never rested. No wall, no remoteness, no severity of jailer could stem the torrent of His revelation. In that stark citadel He continued to reveal verses, commentaries, prayers, and epistles in such profusion that they astonished those who carried them away.
9 / 15
The seekers who made the long and dangerous journey to Chihríq did not find a broken man waiting to be forgotten; they found a Captive whose serenity and majesty deepened the nearer the danger came, and whose words went out from the prison to kindle the hearts of believers across the whole of Persia.
10 / 15
So complete was this failure to contain Him that one of the divines of the region, sent in part to confront the new claimant, came away unable to oppose Him; and the influence the minister had meant to bury in the mountains spread instead from village to village and city to city. The very severity which His enemies had devised to extinguish His influence served only to spread it the wider. Each new attempt to shut Him away became, in the hand of God, a new pulpit from which His Cause was proclaimed.
11 / 15
There is a pattern in these prison years that the Feast of Qudrat invites us to see. The men who held the Báb commanded fortresses, soldiers, royal authority, the power to bind and to kill. The Báb commanded none of these. He was the one in chains. And yet, at Máh-Kú and again at Chihríq, it was always the jailer who was transformed, never the Prisoner; always the hostile town that softened, never the Captive who yielded.
12 / 15
The power of the state, for all its walls and decrees, could not touch the thing that mattered. The power of God, working through one solitary imprisoned Soul, reached straight through the stone and remade the very people sent to guard Him.
13 / 15
The minister would try once more, summoning the Báb at last to Tabríz and to death. But even that final severity would prove, in time, no severity at all — for the Cause He had proclaimed from His mountain prison was already beyond the reach of any power on earth to silence.
14 / 15
*This is a retelling. For the fuller account, see **The Dawn-Breakers** by Nabíl-i-A'ẓam.*
15 / 15
Source
by Nabíl-i-A'ẓam · 1932 · Bahá'í Publishing Trust
Read the original at www.bahai.org/library/other-literature/historical/dawn-break