Ch.XXII, p.501, f.2
"In the meantime, Haji Mirza Taqi resolved to strike at the very head
of this monster of Babism and he imagined that, after such a blow which
would definitely remove the instigator of that agitation and silence his
appeal, the old order would be restored. Nevertheless, strange phenomenon
in an Asiatic government, and especially in a statesmen like Mirza Taqi
Khan who could indulge in excessive severity without scruple, this
minister did not order the death of the reformer! He thought that the most
effective way to destroy him was to ruin him morally; to bring him out of
his retreat in Chihriq where a halo of suffering, holiness, science and
eloquence made him radiate like a sun; to show him to the people just as he
was--that is to say, just as he thought he was--was the best way to render
him harmless by destroying his prestige.
"He was picturing him as a vulgar charlatan, a weak dreamer who did not
have courage enough to conceive, still less to direct the daring
enterprises of his three apostles, or even to take part in them. Such a
man, taken to Tihran and brought face to face with the most subtle
dialecticians of Islam, could not but surrender shamefully. His influence
would vanish the more rapidly than if while destroying his body, one
allowed to linger in the minds of the people the phantom of a superiority
which death would have consecrated. It was therefore decided to arrest him
and bring him to Tihran and, on the way, to exhibit him publicly in chains
and humiliated; to make him debate everywhere with the Mullas, silencing
him whenever he would become too audacious; briefly, to engage him in a
series of unequal encounters in which he would inevitably meet defeat, as
he would have been previously demoralized and heartbroken. It was a lion
that they were eager to unnerve, hold in chains and strip of claws and
teeth, then turn him over to the dogs to show how easily they could
overpower him. Once defeated, his ultimate fate was of little importance.
"This plan was not devoid of sense, but it rested upon premises which
were far from proven. It was not enough to imagine that the Bab was
without courage and firmness, it was necessary that he be really so. But
his conduct in the fort of Chihriq gave no such evidence. He prayed and
worked unceasingly. His meekness was unfailing. Those who came near him
felt in spite of themselves the fascinating influence of his personality,
of his manner and of his speech. His guards were not free from that
weakness. He (the Bab) felt that his death was near and he would
frequently refer to it as to a thought that was not only familiar but even
pleasant. Suppose, for a moment, that thus exhibited throughout Persia he
would still remain undaunted? Suppose he would display neither arrogance
nor fear but would rise far above his misfortune? Suppose that he
succeeded in throwing into confusion the learned, subtle, and eloquent
doctors arraigned against him? Suppose he would remain more than ever the
Bab for his old followers and become so for the indifferent and even for
his enemies? It was risking much in order to gain much, without doubt, but
also perhaps to lose much and, after having weighed the matter with care,
they dared not take the chance." (Comte de Gobineau's "Les Religions et
les Philosophies dans l'Asie Centrale," pp. 211-213.)