A constant stream of Tablets (letters) flowed from his pen. In this way he kept himself in touch with those who could not see him in the flesh. But there were many who could not rest without seeing the divine Manifestation. Pilgrims seemed never to cease; and it made the Bāb still happier to receive them.
This stream of Tablets and of pilgrims could not however be exhilarating to the Shah and his Minister. They complained to the castle-warden, and bade him be a stricter gaoler, but 'Ali Khan, too, was under the spell of the Gate of Knowledge; or—as one should rather say now—the Point or Climax of Prophetic Revelation, for so the Word of Prophecy directed that he should be called. So the order went forth that 'Ali Muḥammad should be transferred to another castle—that of Chihriḳ. [Footnote: Strictly, six or eight months (Feb. or April to Dec. 1847) at Maku, and two-and-a-half years at Chihriḳ (Dec. 1847 to July 1850).]
At this point a digression seems necessary.
The Bāb was well aware that a primary need of the new fraternity was a new Ḳur'an. This he produced in the shape of a book called The Bayan (Exposition). Unfortunately he adopted from the Muslims the unworkable idea of a sacred language, and his first contributions to the new Divine Library (for the new Ḳur'an ultimately became this) were in Arabic. These were a Commentary on the Sura of Yusuf (Joseph) and the Arabic Bayan. The language of these, however, was a barrier to the laity, and so the 'first believer' wrote a letter to the Bāb, enforcing the necessity of making himself intelligible to all. This seems to be the true origin of the Persian Bayan.
A more difficult matter is 'Ali Muḥammad's very peculiar consciousness, which reminds us of that which the Fourth Gospel ascribes to Jesus Christ. In other words, 'Ali Muḥammad claims for himself the highest spiritual rank. 'As for Me,' he said, 'I am that Point from which all that exists has found existence. I am that Face of God which dieth not. I am that Light which doth not go out. He that knoweth Me is accompanied by all good; he that repulseth Me hath behind him all evil.' [Footnote: AMB, p. 369.] It is also certain that in comparatively early writings, intended for stedfast disciples, 'Ali Muḥammad already claims the title of Point, i.e. Point of Truth, or of Divine Wisdom, or of the Divine Mercy. [Footnote: Beyan Arabe, p. 206.]
It is noteworthy that just here we have a very old contact with Babylonian mythology. 'Point' is, in fact, a mythological term. It springs from an endeavour to minimize the materialism of the myth of the Divine Dwelling-place. That ancient myth asserted that the earth-mountain was the Divine Throne. Not so, said an early school of Theosophy, God, i.e. the God who has a bodily form and manifests the hidden glory, dwells on a point in the extreme north, called by the Babylonians 'the heaven of Anu.'
The Point, however, i.e. the God of the Point, may also be entitled 'The Gate,' i.e. the Avenue to God in all His various aspects. To be the Point, therefore, is also to be the Gate. 'Ali, the cousin and son-in-law of Muḥammad, was not only the Gate of the City of Knowledge, but, according to words assigned to him in a ḥadith, 'the guardian of the treasures of secrets and of the purposes of God.' [Footnote: AMB, p. 142.]
It is also in a book written at Maku—the Persian Bayan—that the Bāb constantly refers to a subsequent far greater Person, called 'He whom God will make manifest.' Altogether the harvest of sacred literature at this mountain-fortress was a rich one. But let us now pass on with the Bāb to Chihriḳ—a miserable spot, but not so remote as Maku (it was two days' journey from Urumiyya). As Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel tells us, 'The place of his captivity was a house without windows and with a doorway of bare bricks,' and adds that 'at night they would leave him without a lamp, treating him with the utmost lack of respect.' [Footnote: NH, p. 403.] In the Persian manner the Bāb himself indicated this by calling Maku 'the Open Mountain,' and Chihriḳ 'the Grievous Mountain.' [Footnote: Cp. TN, p. 276.] Stringent orders were issued making it difficult for friends of the Beloved Master to see him; and it may be that in the latter part of his sojourn the royal orders were more effectually carried out—a change which was possibly the result of a change in the warden. Certainly Yaḥya Khan was guilty of no such coarseness as Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel imputes to the warden of Chihriḳ. And this view is confirmed by the peculiar language of Mirza Jani, 'Yaḥya Khan, so long as he was warden, maintained towards him an attitude of unvarying respect and deference.'
This 'respect and deference' was largely owing to a dream which the warden had on the night before the day of the Bāb's arrival. The central figure of the dream was a bright shining saint. He said in the morning that 'if, when he saw His Holiness, he found appearance and visage to correspond with what he beheld in his dream, he would be convinced that He was in truth the promised Proof.' And this came literally true. At the first glance Yaḥya Khan recognized in the so-called Bāb the lineaments of the saint whom he had beheld in his dream. 'Involuntarily he bent down in obeisance and kissed the knee of His Holiness.' [Footnote: NH, p. 240. A slight alteration has been made to draw out the meaning.]
It has already been remarked that such 'transfiguration' is not wholly supernatural. Persons who have experienced those wonderful phenomena which are known as ecstatic, often exhibit what seems like a triumphant and angelic irradiation. So—to keep near home—it was among the Welsh in their last great revival. Such, too, was the brightness which, Yaḥya Khan and other eye-witnesses agree, suffused the Bāb's countenance more than ever in this period. Many adverse things might happen, but the 'Point' of Divine Wisdom could not be torn from His moorings. In that miserable dark brick chamber He was 'in Paradise.' The horrid warfare at Sheykh Tabarsi and elsewhere, which robbed him of Bābu'l Bāb and of Ḳuddus, forced human tears from him for a time; but one who dwelt in the 'Heaven of Pre-existence' knew that 'Returns' could be counted upon, and was fully assured that the gifts and graces of Ḳuddus had passed into Mirza Yaḥya (Ṣubḥ-i-Ezel). For himself he was free from anxiety. His work would be carried on by another and a greater Manifestation. He did not therefore favour schemes for his own forcible deliverance.