in subdued sorrowing, like the melodious plaint of angels over fallen mortality—the concentrated and pious self-forgetfulness of the community, who never once cast their eyes over the crowds that thronged their chapel—the deep, rich chant of the choral brethren—even the very contrast afforded by the light and fairy-like temple in which they thus meekly ministered to their Maker, with their own calm and inspired appearance, heightened the effect of the scene; and tacitly rebuked the presumption and worldliness of spirit that would have sought a jest in the very sanctuary of religion.
The service commenced with an extemporaneous prayer from the chief priest, to which the attendant Dervishes listened with arms folded upon their breasts, and their eyes fixed on the ground. At its conclusion, all bowed their foreheads to the earth; and the orchestra struck into one of those peculiarly wild and melancholy Turkish airs which are unlike any other music that I ever heard. Instantly, the full voices of the brethren joined in chorus, and the effect was thrilling: now the sounds died away like the exhausted breath of a departing spirit, and suddenly they swelled once more into a deep and powerful diapason that seemed scarce earthly. A second stillness of about a minute succeeded, when the low, solemn music was resumed, and the Dervishes, slowly rising from the earth, followed their superior three times round the enclosure; bowing down twice under the shadow of the name of their Founder, suspended above the seat of the high priest. This reverence was performed without removing their folded arms from their breasts—the first time on the side by which they approached, and afterwards on that opposite, which they gained by slowly revolving on the right foot, in such a manner as to prevent their turning their backs towards the inscription. The procession was closed by a second prostration, after which, each Dervish having gained his place, cast off his cloak, and such as had walked in woollen slippers withdrew them, and, passing solemnly before the Chief Priest, they commenced their evolutions.
I am by no means prepared, nor even inclined, to attempt a Quixotic defence of the very extraordinary and bizarre ceremonial to which I was next a witness; but I cannot, nevertheless, agree with a modern traveller in describing it as “an absurdity.” That it does not accord with our European ideas of consistent and worthy worship is not only possible, but certain; yet I should imagine that no one could feel other than respect for men of irreproachable character, serving God according to their means of judgment.
The extraordinary ceremony which gives its name to the Dancing, or, as they are really and much more appropriately called, the Turning Dervishes—for nothing can be more utterly unlike dancing than their evolutions—is not without its meaning. The community first pray for pardon of their past sins, and the amendment of their future lives; and then, after a silent supplication for strength to work out the change, they figure, by their peculiar and fatiguing movements, their anxiety to “shake the dust from their feet,” and to cast from them all worldly ties.
As I could not reconcile myself to believe that the custom could have grown out of mere whim, I took some pains to ascertain its meaning, as well as visiting the chapel a second time during its observance, in order to ascertain whether the ceremonies differed on different days, but I remarked no change.
Immediately after passing with a solemn reverence, twice performed, the place of the High Priest, who remained standing, the Dervishes spread their arms, and commenced their revolving motion; the palm of the right hand being held upwards, and that of the left turned down. Their under-dresses (for, as I before remarked, they had laid aside their cloaks) consisted of a jacket and petticoat of dark coloured cloth, that descended to their feet; the higher order of brethren being clad in green, and the others in brown, or a sort of yellowish gray; about their waists they wore wide girdles, edged with red, to which the right side of the jacket was closely fastened, while the left hung loose: their petticoats were of immense width, and laid in large plaits beneath the girdle, and, as the wearers swung round, formed a bell-like appearance; these latter garments, however, are only worn during the ceremony, and are exchanged in summer for white ones of lighter material.
The number of those who were “on duty,” for I know not how else to express it, was nine; seven of them being men, and the remaining two, mere boys, the youngest certainly not more than ten years of age. Nine, eleven, and thirteen are the mystic numbers, which, however great the strength of community, are never exceeded; and the remaining members of the brotherhood, during the evolutions of their companions, continue engaged in prayer within the enclosure. These on this occasion amounted to about a score, and remained each leaning against a pillar: while the beat of the drum in the gallery marked the time to which the revolving Dervishes moved, and the effect was singular to a degree that baffles description. So true and unerring were their motions, that, although the space which they occupied was somewhat circumscribed, they never once gained upon each other: and for five minutes they continued twirling round and round, as though impelled by machinery, their pale, passionless countenances perfectly immobile, their heads slightly declined towards the right shoulder, and their inflated garments creating a cold, sharp air in the chapel, from the rapidity of their action. At the termination of that period, the name of the Prophet occurred in the chant, which had been unintermitted in the gallery; and, as they simultaneously paused, and, folding their hands upon their breasts, bent down in reverence at the sound, their ample garments wound about them at the sudden check, and gave them, for a moment, the appearance of mummies.
An interval of prayer followed; and the same ceremony was performed three times; at the termination of which they all fell prostrate on the earth, when those who had hitherto remained spectators flung their cloaks over them, and the one who knelt on the left of the Chief Priest rose, and delivered a long prayer divided into sections, with a rapid and solemn voice, prolonging the last word of each sentence by the utterance of “ha—ha—ha”—with a rich depth of octave that would not have disgraced Phillips.
This prayer was for “the great ones of the earth”—the magnates of the land—all who were “in authority over them;” and at each proud name they bowed their heads upon their breasts, until that of the Sultan was mentioned, when they once more fell flat upon the ground, to the sound of the most awful howl I ever heard.
This outburst from the gallery terminated the labours of the orchestra; and the superior, rising to his knees while the others continued prostrate, in his turn prayed for a few instants; and then, taking his stand upon the crimson rug, they approached him one by one, and, clasping his hand, pressed it to their lips and forehead. When the first had passed, he stationed himself on the right of the superior, and awaited the arrival of the second, who, on reaching him, bestowed on him also the kiss of peace, which he had just proffered to the Chief Priest; and each in succession performed the same ceremony to all those who had preceded him, which was acknowledged by gently stroking down the beard.
This was the final act of the exhibition; and, the superior having slowly and silently traversed the enclosure, in five seconds the chapel was empty, and the congregation busied at the portal in reclaiming their boots, shoes, and slippers.
I had never hitherto seen such picturesque groups as those which thronged the Dervishes’ chapel on my second visit; nor did I ever witness more perfect order in any public assembly. A deep stillness reigned throughout the whole ceremony, only broken by the sobs of a middle-aged Turk who stood near me, and who was so much overcome by the saddening wail of the orchestra that he could not restrain his tears; a circumstance by no means uncommon in this country, where all ranks are peculiarly susceptible to the influence of music.
The interior of the edifice was a perfect picture, of which the soberly-clad Dervishes occupied the centre; while the exterior circle was peopled with groups of soldiers in their coarse wrapping coats and red caps—venerable Turks in claret-coloured pelisses, richly furred—descendants of Mahomet, with their green turbans and portly beards—and peasants in their rude suits of dusky brown; all equally intent, and all equally orderly.
The Turks are extremely tolerant with regard to religious opinions; their creed being split into as many sects as that of the Church of England; and each individual being left equally free to follow, as he sees
