A MIRACLE



A young man was being led captive through the crowded streets.

His neck was encased in a huge iron collar.
Long ropes were fastened to the collar by means of which he was
pulled through the rows of people lining the streets. When he faltered in his steps, the
guards savagely jerked him on his way, or delivered a brutal well-aimed kick.
Occasionally someone would dart out of the crowd, break through the guards, and
strike the young man with a fist or a stick. Cheers of delight from the crowd
accompanied each successful attack. When a stone or a piece of refuse, hurled from the
mob, struck the young captive in the face, the guards and the crowd would burst into
laughter. 'Rescue yourself, O great hero!' one of the pursuers called mockingly. 'Break
asunder your bonds! produce for us a miracle!' Then he spat in derision at the silent
figure. The young man was led at last to his place of execution. It was twelve o'clock
noon. In the barracks' square of a sun-baked city, the firing-squad was assembled. The
blazing summer sun flashed from the barrels of the raised muskets, pointed at the young
man's breast. The soldiers awaited the command to fire and to take his life. The crowd
leaned forward expectantly, hoping to witness, even at this last moment, a miracle.

Late comers were still pouring into the public square. Thousands swarmed along the
adjoining rooftops looking down upon the scene of death, all eager for one last look at
this strange young man who, in six short years, had so troubled their country. He was
either good or evil, they were not sure which it was. Yet he seemed so young to die,
barely thirty. Now that the end had come, this victim of their hatred and persecution did


not seem dangerous at all. The crowd was disappointed. They had come, hungering for
drama, and he was failing them. The young man was a strange paradox: helpless yet
confident. There was a look of contentment, even of eagerness, on his handsome face as
he gazed into the menacing barrels of the seven hundred and fifty cocked rifles.

The guns were raised. The command was given. 'Fire!'

In turn, each of the three columns of two hundred and fifty men opened fire upon the
young man, until the entire regiment had discharged its volley of bullets. There were
over ten thousand eye-witnesses to the spectacle that followed. Several historical
accounts have been preserved. One of these states:

'The smoke of the firing of the seven hundred and fifty rifles was such as to turn the light
of the noonday sun into darkness. ...As soon as the cloud of smoke had cleared away, an
astounded multitude (looked) upon a scene which their eyes could scarcely believe. ...The
cords with which (the young man had been) suspended had been rent in pieces by the
bullets, yet (his) body had miraculously escaped the volleys.' [The Dawnbreakers, Nabil,
pp. 512-513.]

M. C. Huart, a French author, and a Christian, also wrote an account of this episode, 'The
soldiers in order to quiet the excitement of the crowd...showed the cords broken by the
bullets, implying that no miracle had really taken place.' [La religion de Bab, Clement
Huart, 1889, pp. 3-4.]
The soldiers picked up the fragments of rope. They held them up to the milling crowd.
The mob was becoming dangerous, and the soldiers wished to pacify them.

'The musket-balls have shattered the ropes into pieces,' their actions explained. 'This is
what freed him. It is nothing more than this. It is no miracle.'

M. C. Huart, in further describing that remarkable event, states: 'Amazing to believe, the
bullets had not struck the condemned but, on the contrary, had broken the bonds and he
was delivered. It was a real miracle.' [La religion de Bab, Clement Huart, 1889, pp. 3-4.]
A.-L.-M. Nicholas, the famous European scholar, also recorded this spectacle.

'An extraordinary thing happened,' he said, 'unique in the annals of the history of
humanity...the bullets cut the cords that held (him) and he fell on his feet without a
scratch.' [Seyyed Ali Mohammed dit le Bab, A.L.M. Nicolas, 1905, p. 375.]



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