The effect of colour was remarkable; it seemed to run in patches, as all of one nationality were near one another. In the sunlight, brown faces and arms, salmon colour, pink, light blue, and cinnamon in the clothing, were blended with the white; but, in the shadow, the dark blue uniforms, the black dresses of nuns, and the brown frieze and red sashes of the Armenians, were streaked across by the long line of the soldiers’ red fezzes.
On the west a striking contrast was observable; here stood and sat the Abyssinians and Copts, silent and dusky, with many women among them, some with small babies in their arms, whose cries of half-suffocation were plainly heard above the din of many voices and many languages. The Coptic men were in loose dark robes, with white, twisted turbans, the women were closely veiled, in flowing indigo-coloured garments. The Abyssinians, swathed in voluminous white drapery, sat gloomily silent against the wall. On the east a few Arabs were gathered, also in dark robes, and behind them was seen the rich colouring of the Greek chancel, dark and dusky in the dim light.
The pilgrims had been standing in their places for at least ten hours, yet they showed no signs of weariness. Every face was turned to the fire-hole, and but one interest seemed to absorb them, save when the great pewter cans of water, supplied by the charity of the priests, were brought round.
The variety of national character was also remarkable. Patient and stolid the Russians and Armenians stood in their places, and a little forest of candles rose from amongst them, ready to receive the fire, each pilgrim having a bunch of perhaps a dozen in his hand. Silent and motionless sat the Egyptians, awaiting the event with all the apathy and dignified indifference of Orientals. On the north, however, an entirely different scene was enacted. Here stood the Greek Christians, mostly Syrians by birth, who were worked up into a state of hysterical frenzy which would not allow them to be quiet for a moment, and which seemed ever on the increase. Every now and then a man would struggle on to the shoulders of his neighbours; in one case six arms, extended full length, supported him, three to each foot, whilst his baggy trousers were grasped to keep him steady; another man was pushed and rolled along, over the people’s heads, as if he was swimming. These individuals became fugle-men, and led the numerous well-known chants, of which I collected the following:
“Hádha Kúb-er Sáid-ná.”
This is the most common chant, meaning “This is the Tomb of our Lord,” and repeated by hundreds of voices in perfect time with the accentuation as given above. Another chant was to the same cadence:
“A’llah únser és Sul—tán.”
“God help the Sultan.” The next was rarely heard:
“Yá Ye-húd, Yá Ye-húd,
’Aíde-kúm, ’Aid el ku-rúd.”
“O Jews, O Jews! your feast is a feast of apes.”