There was a terrible struggle to try to gain a position commanding a view of this priest; for he it was who would distribute the sacred flame. He was, for the occasion, called the "Priest of the Holy Fire," and had paid a large sum of money for the privilege of receiving the sacred flame from the hands of the "Bishop of the Holy Fire," who was within the tomb, almost in a state of nudity. Every one in the area had either a torch or a taper ready to be lighted.
A pause of eager expectancy—a silence almost as exciting as the noise—was succeeded by a startling and tremendous shout, which shook the building to its foundation. A voice from within the sepulcher had proclaimed that the miraculous fire was kindled! The priest now drew forth his head from the hole, and held up a mass of fire, amid cries of thanksgiving and rejoicing from the multitude.
In less than a minute a hundred torches were burning brightly, and soon the light spread all round the Rotunda. We looked down upon the waving firebrands and flaming torches, held up by naked arms outstretched exultingly, the men themselves could scarcely be seen through the sea of fire and smoke. At this juncture there appeared to be a very suspicious movement in the crowd. The Armenians and Greeks were evidently attacking each other angrily, and trying to extinguish each other's torches. One sect was jealous of the other. The sacred flame from heaven, as they called it, had been distributed unequally, and it was said that the priest of the fire had conveyed it to one party before the other, instead of giving it to them at the very same instant, according to the regular stipulations. This priority, real or pretended, was the pretext for a general fight. Every hand was raised in defense or offense. Flaming torches were tossed about recklessly, and clubs, kûrbages, and sticks were raised. The Turkish soldiers were recalled, but at first they only seemed to add to the general confusion. After about ten minutes' violent con-
