The dervishes of India, and particularly those of Cashmere, are throughout the East pre-eminent among their Mahometan brethren for cunning, secret arts, forms of exorcism, &c. These fellows impose most impudently on the credulity of the people in Persia and Central Asia, and even men of wit and understanding sometimes fall into their snares; for, wherever such a Cashmere dervish appears, gifted as he generally is with a noble figure, striking features, bright eloquent eyes, and long dark flowing hair, he is sure of success.
The Mahometans of India and the adjoining eastern countries have always been celebrated in the Islamite world for their supernatural gifts. As soon as such a travelling saint arrives in a Mahometan country, he is entreated to cure dangerous maladies, to exorcise ghosts, or to point out where hidden treasures are buried; for, although those arts are forbidden by the Koran, they appear everywhere as the most zealous Mahometans. Count Gobineau, in his work, "Trois Ans dans l'Asie," tells us of an excellent trick, which an alchemist from Cashmere played a gold-seeking prince in Teheran. A similar trick was played on the brother of the reigning Khan of Khiva, who, wanting to have all his saddles and bridles converted into gold, was cheated in a most ridiculous manner. But they are sometimes so devoid of conscience as to rob the poorest man of his last penny. In Teheran, a Hadji, lately arrived from Central Asia, told me, with tears in his eyes, the following story. As, said he, I had heard much in Meshed of the frequent robberies that occurred on the road to Teheran, I and my companion were anxious to know what would be the best way to conceal our little capital, which was to defray our expenses to the holy grave of the Prophet. This money was the savings of five hard years, and thou knowest how difficult it is to travel without money in this land of heretics. Next to us in the caravanserai at Meshed there lodged a pious Ishan (sheikh) from Cashmere; to him we communicated our fears, and were delighted when he offered, by means of a certain form of prayer, to secure our money against all attacks of robbers. He invited us to follow him to the mosque of Iman Riza: there he bade us perform the usual ablutions. We then placed our money in his lap, and after he had breathed on it several times he put it with his own hands into our purses, wrapped them up in seven sheets of paper, and then strictly enjoined us not to open them till, on our arrival at Teheran, we had performed our devotions three times in the mosque. It is now six weeks since we left Meshed; and imagine our fright, when yesterday, after the third prayer, we opened our purses and found in them, instead of our dear ducats, nothing but heavy reddish sand. The poor fellows uttered bitter complaints and seemed almost to have lost their wits. The cunning rogue from Cashmere had, while pronouncing the blessing, changed the money without being perceived by the simple Tartars, who continued their journey to Teheran in the perfect persuasion of the efficacy of the ceremony,—a persuasion which they now found had cost them dear.
It is the same with dervishism as with all the other oriental institutions, customs and manners; the more we penetrate towards the East, the greater is the purity with which they have been preserved. In Persia the dervishes play a much more important part than in Turkey; and in Central Asia, isolated as it has been from the rest of the world for centuries, this fraternity is still in full vigour, and exercises a great influence upon society. In my "Travels," I have frequently alluded to the position occupied by the Ishan or secular priests in Central Asia. Their influence may be called a fortunate one, contrasted with the fearful tyranny existing in those countries. This is the reason why every one occupies himself with religion; every one tries to pass himself off as a worker of miracles (Ehli Keramet); or, if he fails in that, he endeavours to be recognised as a saint (veli ullah ....) Those who make the interpretation of the sacred writings their business are great rivals of the Ishans, who, by the mysticism by which they surround themselves, enjoy a large share of popular esteem. The native of Central Asia, like the wildest child of Arabia, is more easily imposed upon by magic formulas and similar hocus-pocus than by books. He may dispense with the services of a Mollah, but he cannot do without a Ishan, whose blessing (fatiha) or breath (nefes) is required when he sets out on one of his predatory expeditions, and upon which he looks as a talismanic power, when moving about his herds, his tent, or the wilds of the desert.
After the Ishans, the most interesting class are the mendicant dervishes (Kalenter),[3] which the Kirguese and Turkomans call Kuddush[4] or Divani (insane). In the whole of the great deserts which stretch from the eastern boundaries of China to the Caspian Sea, it is only these people, in their ragged dress, who are able to move unmolested. They do not take any notice of the differences of tribe or family, and the mighty words, Yaghi or Il (friend or enemy) have to them no meaning. In travelling along they join whomsoever they meet, be it a peaceful caravan or band of robbers. The dervishes who travel through Kirguese or Turkoman steppes are generally this class of people, who form a strong inclination to do nothing, follow a trade which throughout the East is considered respectable, viz., that of a mendicant. All they have to acquire is a few prayers and a certain power of mimicry, with which the chiromantic feats are performed; and I have never seen a nomad who has not been moved when he found himself in the close presence of one of those long-haired, bare-headed, and bare-footed dervishes, who, with his fiery eyes, stared hard at the son of the desert, and whilst shaking his Keshkul[5] howled a wild "Ja hu!"
The arrival of one of these fakirs in a lonely group of tents is regarded as a joyful event, or almost a festival; it is of especial importance in the eyes of the women; and the time of his arrival is differently interpreted. Early in the morning signifies the happy birth of a camel or a horse; at noon a quarrel between husband and wife; and in the evening a good prospect of marriage to the marriageable daughters. The dervish is generally taken in hand by the women, and is well supplied with the best things the tent contains, in hopes that he may be tempted to produce from beneath his battered dress some glass beads, or other talisman. Alms, which amongst the nomads seldom consist of money, are rarely denied him; and he often receives an old carpet, a few handfuls of camel hair or wool, or an old garment. He may also stop with the family for days, and move about with it without his presence becoming a burden. If the dervish possesses musical talent, i.e., able to sing a few songs and accompany himself on the two stringed instrument called dutara, he is made much of, and has the greatest difficulty in getting away from the hospitable host.
It is very seldom that dervishes are insulted or ill-treated; this, however, is said to be the case amongst the Turkomans, whose rapacity knows no bounds, and prompts them to commit incredible acts of cruelty. A dervish from Bokhara, of robust figure and dark curly hair, whom I met at Maymene, told me that a Tekke-Turkoman, prompted by the thirty ducats which his athletic figure promised to fetch in the slave market, made him a prisoner to sell him a few days afterwards. "I pretended," my colleague continued, "to be quite unconcerned, and repeated the Zikr whilst shaking my iron chains. The time was fast approaching when I was to be taken to the market, when suddenly the wife of the robber of my liberty and person was taken ill, and prevented him from starting. He seemed to see in this the finger of God, and began to be pensive, when his favourite horse, refusing to eat his food, showed signs of illness." This was enough. The robber was so frightened that he removed the chains of his prisoner, and returned to him the things he had robbed him of, begging him to leave his tent as soon as possible. Whilst a Turkoman impatiently awaited the departure of the ominous beggar, the latter fumbled about his dress, and pretended that he had lost a comb which his chief had given him as a talisman on the road, and without which he could not go a single step. The nomad returned in great haste to the place where the plunder had been kept, and as the comb did not turn up he became still more frightened, and promised the dervish the price of twenty combs if he would only take a single step beyond the boundary of his tent. The cunning bush-rite saw he was master of the situation; he pretended to be inconsolable about the lost property, and declared that he now would have to remain for years in the tent. Imagine the confusion of the deceived and superstitious robber! Like a madman he ran about asking his neighbour for advice. Formal negotiations were now commenced with the dervish, to whom, finally, a horse, a dress, and ten ducats were presented, to make up for the loss of the comb, and on condition that he should leave a tent whose proprietor will probably think twice before he ventures again upon molesting a travelling dervish.
Besides the dervishes who, as physicians, miracle-working saints, or harmless vagabonds, are wandering about in Central Asia, there is a class called "Khanka neshin," or convent dwellers, who always wish to appear as the poorest, and are without doubt the most contemptible fellows in the world. Generally speaking they are opium eaters, who by their excessive filth, skeleton-like body, and frightfully distorted features, present a most repulsive appearance. The worst is that they do not confine themselves to practising this fearful vice themselves, but with a singular persistency endeavour to make converts amongst all classes; and, supported by the want of spirituous drinks, they succeed but too frequently in their wicked attempts. What surprised me most was that these wretched people were regarded as eminently religious, of whom it was thought that from their love to God and the Prophet they had become mad, and stupefied themselves in order that in their excited state they might be nearer the Beings whom they loved so well.
Speaking of dervishes we may mention a class of hypocrites who, under the pretence of carrying out sacred vows, indulge in their desire to travel, and after their return assume, under the title of Hadji (Pilgrims) authority and a good social position. The Koran says, "Hidji ala beiti min isti Itaatun sebila"—Wander to my house (Kaaba) if circumstances permit. These "circumstances" are reduced to the following seven conditions by the commentators. The pilgrimage must be undertaken, 1st,—With sufficient money for travelling expenses; 2nd,—In bodily health; 3rd,—In an unmarried state; 4th,—Without leaving debts behind; 5th,—In times of peace; 6th,—Overland and without danger; and, 7th,—By persons who have reached the age of puberty. That our good Tartars ill-observe these conditions will be evident to all who have some idea about the countries situated between Oxus and Yaxartes. In Persia people go to Kerbela, Meshed or Mekka, only when sufficient funds enable them to do it comfortably. In Central Asia, on the contrary, it is always the poorest class who undertakes pilgrimages. A certain taste for adventure, coupled with religious enthusiasm, are the two motives which prompt the inhabitants of Central Asia to start from the remote east for the tomb of their Prophet. True, they do not suffer any material losses, for a beggar's bag is a money bag; but they frequently lose what is most precious to them—their life; as every year at least one-third of the pilgrims from Turkestan die from exposure to the climate.
This sacred or profane desire to travel braves all danger; this vague thought of tearing himself away from his family, and friends, and countrymen, to see the wide world, surrounds the Hadji with a certain poetry. I have lived weeks with my companions, and yet it always interested me to behold them, palm staff in hand, as a sacred memento of Arabia, vigorously making their way through the deep sand or mud. They were returning happily to their homes; but how many did I meet who only commenced their long and tedious journey? and yet they were equally happy. On my road from Samarkand to Teheran I had as a companion a native of Chinese Tartary, who, in total ignorance of the route he had to take, asked me every evening, even when we were yet at Meshed, whether we should see to-morrow, or at the farthest after to-morrow, the minarets of Mekka. The poor fellow had no idea how much he would have to endure before he reached his destination. However, this should not surprise us when we remember that during the time of the crusades so many honest Teutons undertook a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and after two or three days' journey hoped to behold the walls of Jerusalem.[6]
The routes to Arabia adopted by the pious Tartars are the following, viz.:—1. Yarkend, Kilian, Tibet, Kashmir.[7] 2. Through Southern Siberia, Kazan and Constantinople. 3. Through Afghanistan and India to Djedda. 4. Through Persia, Bagdad, and Damascus. None of these routes is a comfortable one, and the amount of danger to be incurred is very much dependent upon the season of the year and the political state of the countries through which they pass. The travellers form themselves in larger or smaller companies, and elect a chief (Tchaush) from amongst themselves, who also fills amongst them the office of Imam, (the person who first says the prayers to be repeated by the rest,) and who enjoys a considerable superiority over his companions. A visit to the Kaaba and the tomb of the Prophet (which may be paid at any season) is not so much the culminating point of the whole pilgrimage as the ascent of Mount Arafat. This can be made only once a year, viz., on the Kurban festival, (10th Zil Hidje,) which is nothing more or less than the sacrifice of Abraham and Isaac dramatized. All those who have taken part in this festival and have joined in the cry, "Lebeïk Allah!"—Command, Oh God," (in allusion to Abraham's implicit obedience,) are regarded as genuine Hadjis. This cry of "Lebeïk! Lebeïk!" uttered at the most solemn moment of the whole pilgrimage, seems also to have the deepest impression upon the pilgrim himself. My travelling companions, whenever they became excited or were in a happy mood of mind, always alluded to it; and the stillness of the Tartar deserts was often broken by this memento of the stony districts of Arabia.