The calm and unimpassioned chief, with slow and stealthy step, wanders among their evolutions. Suddenly they cease, and march around the circle. The music increases its measure, and the dervishes again commence their giddy motions; old and young seem to be in a visionary rhapsody. Perhaps transported in the bewildering whirl to the regions of the blest, they languish with rapture in the arms of the houris of Paradise; or lose their earthly senses amid the glories which surround the throne of Allah; till suddenly they stand transfixed, their outspread and snowy drapery folding around them like the marble investment of an antique statue.
They are all prostrated, exhausted by their ecstasies, and immovable, until the sheikh recalls them to the realities of time by his holy benediction, when they slowly rise again, compass the building, and enveloping themselves with their cast-off mantles, silently disappear.
There is an intoxication in the very motions of the whirling dervishes, but the horrible ceremonies of the Rifayees are really distressing to the beholder.
A long, empty hall, much like that of the Inquisition, as its walls are adorned by an infinite variety of instruments of torture, constitutes their temple of worship.
The fanatical disciples of this sect assemble every Thursday at their Tekké, which is in Scutari, and after the performance of the usual ritual of the Mussulmans, commence their ceremonies by ranging themselves along the three sides of the apartment and within the balustrade, which serves to separate them from the spectators.
Their sheikh takes his stand before the Mihrab facing the assembly, and three or four of the members furnishing themselves with instruments of music place themselves in the centre of the hall.
The performance then begins, by a monotonous chant, accompanied with music, and the waving of their heads to and fro, which seems to create a sympathetic vertigo in the Mussulman bystanders--for they often are irresistibly drawn into the ranks.
By degrees, the motion increases, the chant grows louder, and their countenances become livid, and their lungs seem to expand with the noise and excitement.
The line becomes a solid phalanx as they place their arms on each other's shoulders, and withdrawing a step, suddenly advance with a tremendous and savage yell, Allah--Allah--Allah--hoo! which divine appellative is to be repeated a thousand times uninterruptedly.