This traveller was the same Mullá Ḥusayn-i-Bushrú'í, who, after the accomplishment of his highly fruitful mission in Írán on behalf of Siyyid Káẓim-i-Rashtí, had reached Karbilá only to find his teacher dead. He had learned that Siyyid Káẓim's parting counsel to his disciples had been to leave their homes and their cloisters, to abandon their studies and their debates and go out into the world to seek 'the Lord of the Age' (Ṣáḥibu'z-Zamán) whose advent had for centuries been the hope of countless millions. His supernal light would soon break upon the world, Siyyid Káẓim had said. Mullá Ḥusayn together with a number of Siyyid Káẓim's disciples kept vigil for forty days in the old mosque of Kúfih, nearly in ruins, and then set out on different routes to do their master's bidding.
Mullá Ḥusayn was a man of profound scholarship and unbending will. Nothing daunted him. Now, reaching the gates of Shíráz, he sent his companions into the city to obtain lodgings, but he himself tarried for a while in the fields. His mind was occupied with the object of his quest, a quest that had brought him all those wearisome miles to Shíráz, the home and the resting-place of two of the greatest poets of Írán. Here, some five hundred years before, Ḥáfiẓ had composed his superb, ethereal lyrics. Here Sa`dí had lived a good part of his life and had written his lucid prose, his lambent verse. Here had worked and died a host of men celebrated both in their own days and thereafter. The air of Shíráz, the plain of Shíráz, the roses of Shíráz, the cypresses of Shíráz, have all been lavishly praised.
Forty-four years later, the young Edward Granville Browne, the future eminent orientalist of the University of Cambridge, looked at the plain of Shíráz from the heights facing the road to Búshihr, that mountain pass which is named Alláh-u-Akbar (God is the Greatest) because the traveller thus expresses his wonderment at beholding such a beauteous plain. Browne wrote:
Words cannot describe the rapture which overcame me as, after many a weary march, I gazed at length on the reality of that whereof I had so long dreamed, and found the reality not merely equal to, but far surpassing, the ideal which I had conceived. It is seldom enough in one's life that this occurs. When it does, one's innermost being is stirred with an emotion which baffles description, and which the most eloquent words can but dimly shadow forth.[1]
This was the city that Mullá Ḥusayn was about to enter. It was as if a magnet had drawn him, with his brother and his nephew, to Shíráz. Nor were they alone in being thus drawn.
On this hot afternoon of May 22nd, Mullá Ḥusayn was fatigued after the trying journey from the coast up the precipitous tracks of the rising plateau. But his mind was alert and his soul yearned for that peace which the attainment of his goal would bring him. As he walked and pondered he came face to face with a Youth of striking appearance. That young Man, who was gentle and gracious and whose turban proclaimed His descent from the Prophet Muḥammad, greeted him with great kindness. Mullá Ḥusayn was amazed and overwhelmed by the warmth of this unexpected welcome. It was the courtesy coupled with the dignified mien of this young Siyyid[M] which particularly impressed him. Then the young Man invited him to be His guest and to partake of the evening meal at His house. Mullá Ḥusayn mentioned that his companions had gone ahead and would be awaiting him, to which the young Siyyid replied: 'Commit them to the care of God; He will surely protect and watch over them'.[N]
'We soon found ourselves standing at the gate of a house of modest appearance,' Mullá Ḥusayn has recounted. 'He knocked at the door, which was soon opened by an Ethiopian servant. "Enter therein in peace, secure,"[O] were His words as He crossed the threshold and motioned me to follow Him. His invitation, uttered with power and majesty, penetrated my soul. I thought it a good augury to be addressed in such words, standing as I did on the threshold of the first house I was entering in Shíráz, a city the very atmosphere of which had produced already an indescribable impression upon me.'
Shíráz had cast its spell upon Mullá Ḥusayn. But little did he think that his youthful Host, whose utterance rang with authority, was that 'Lord of the Age', that 'Qá'im of the House of Muḥammad' whom he was seeking. Yet he could not escape the feeling that the unexpected encounter might in some way bring him near the end of his quest. At the same time he was uneasy at having left his brother and nephew with no news of himself. He further recounts: 'Overwhelmed with His acts of extreme kindness, I arose to depart. "The time for evening prayer is approaching," I ventured to observe. "I have promised my friends to join them at that hour in the Masjid-i-Ílkhání".[P] With extreme courtesy and calm He replied: "You must surely have made the hour of your return conditional upon the will and pleasure of God. It seems that His will has decreed otherwise. You need have no fear of having broken your pledge."' Such undoubted assurance should have made Mullá Ḥusayn aware that he was about to experience the supreme test of his life.
They prayed together. They sat down to converse. And suddenly his Host asked Mullá Ḥusayn: 'Whom, after Siyyid Káẓim, do you regard as his successor and your leader?' Furthermore, He asked: 'Has your teacher given you any detailed indications as to the distinguishing features of the promised One?' Mullá Ḥusayn replied that Siyyid Káẓim had laid the injunction upon his disciples to disperse after his death and seek 'the Lord of the Age', and indeed he had given them indications by which they could come to recognize Him. 'He is of a pure lineage, is of illustrious descent,' said Mullá Ḥusayn, 'and of the seed of Fáṭimih.[Q] As to His age, He is more than twenty and less than thirty. He is endowed with innate knowledge, ... abstains from smoking, and is free from bodily deficiency.'