My appearance in the bath did not create the slightest sensation among the bathers. The few whom I encountered on my way moved aside to enable me to pass, and uttered the usual salutation; while those who were more busily engaged simply suspended their operations for a moment, and resumed them as soon as their curiosity was gratified.
I afterwards visited the “Miraculous Bath,” of which it is asserted that a person in a dying state, who will submit to pass a night in complete solitude on the margin of the basin, will rise in the morning perfectly restored to health, whatever may have been the nature of the disease: but, unfortunately, I could not find any one who had experienced, or even witnessed, a cure of the kind, though many had heard of them in numbers. As an equivalent, however, an old, ugly, red-haired Armenian woman was pointed out to me, who is a celebrated doctress, and who had just succeeded in sending home a credulous elderly gentleman to die in Constantinople, who came to Broussa in a state of indisposition, and left it, thanks to the nostrums of this ancient sybil, without a hope of recovery.
Many of the houses in the village are furnished with hot springs; and although they are, generally speaking, of mean appearance, and in a dilapidated condition, they produce very high rents during the season; and are usually let to Greek families of distinction, or to Europeans.
The situation of Tzèkerghè is eminently beautiful, and the air is balmy and elastic; the magnificent plain is spread out beneath it; it is backed by lofty mountains; and it is in itself a perfect bower of fig-trees, plantains, and maples. The nightingales sing throughout the whole of the day—the rush of water into the valley feeds a score of fountains, which keep up a perpetual murmur; open kiosks are raised along the hill side, some of them traversed by a running stream; storks build in the tall trees; tortoises and land turtles crawl among the high grass and the wild flowers; and altogether I know not a prettier spot than that which is occupied by the village of Tzèkerghè—the rural Cheltenham of Turkey.
CHAPTER IV.
Difficulty of Access to the Chapel of the Howling Dervishes—Invitation to Visit their Harem—The Chapel—Sects and Trades—Entrance of the Dervishes—Costume—The Prayer—Turning Dervishes—Fanatical Suffering—Groans and Howls—Difficulty of Description—Sectarian Ceremony—Music versus Madness—Tekiè of the Turning Dervishes.
Of all the religious ceremonies of the East, those of the different sects of Dervishes are the most extraordinary, and, generally speaking, the most difficult of access. The Turning Dervishes alone freely admit foreigners, and even provide a latticed gallery for the use of the women: while their chapels are usually so situated as to enable the passer-by to witness all that is going on within. The more stern and bigoted sects, on the contrary, permit none but Mussulmauns to intrude upon their mysteries, and build their chapels in obscure places, in order to prevent the intrusion of Christians.
I had heard much of the Howling Dervishes, and had made many unsuccessful attempts at Constantinople to penetrate into their Tekiè; but they are so jealous of strangers that I was unwillingly compelled to give up all idea of accomplishing my object, when, on arriving at Broussa, and finding how comparatively easy it was to gain admittance to the mosques, I resolved to renew my endeavours. But I found that even here many difficulties were to be overcome; difficulties which, of myself, I never could have surmounted; when, having fortunately made the acquaintance of a gentleman who was known to the High Priest, and who had already witnessed their service, I prevailed on him to exert his influence for me, in which he fortunately succeeded.