The provisions are profuse, never have I eaten such bread; and, strange to say, the butter is delicious.
The ex-Ambassador waits below to learn our wishes, the General Officer to act as chief guard. Too much has been done, and it almost makes me feel sad, as I know how little we can do to help them, and what a bitter pill I have to offer as the remedy to be taken to save the Empire.
July 22, 1861.
This morning we had a public audience of the Sultan.
One of the chief officers of the royal household, with a guard of honour, was dispatched by the Sultan to this residence to conduct us to the palace. We proceeded on horseback, and threading the winding and narrow streets of this town, which had been well watered for the occasion, we arrived at the beautiful and picturesque gate of the castle built by Sultan Mulai Ismael about two centuries ago. On entering the gate we passed through lines of troops, placed on each side of the passage conducting to the great court, or ‘Meshwa,’ of the palace. This court, a mere walled enclosure, is about 200 yards long and 120 broad. Around it were arranged some 2,500 infantry, amongst whom I observed about 500 men drilled in the European style.
We were conducted to the centre of the court and there dismounted. A chair, which I declined, was offered to me whilst awaiting the Sultan’s arrival. Immediately in the rear of where we had been placed stood the chief dignitaries and officers of the Sultan’s court. A few minutes after our arrival, the chief Uzir came out from the gate of the palace and, after salutations had passed between us, placed himself in the centre of the line of officers standing in our rear. The Uzir was followed by the ‘Kaid-el-Meshwa,’ or High Chamberlain, of the Sultan’s court. A few moments after, from the gate facing our party, the Sultan, mounted on a magnificent white horse, entered the court. His Majesty was preceded by five led horses splendidly caparisoned, then came two officers carrying very long lances: these men were followed by a number of officers on foot, ranged on each side of His Majesty. Amongst them I observed the Chief Executioner—wearing a broad sword—and the bearer of the Sultan’s gun.
His Sherifian Majesty was dressed all in white, and wore a ‘burnous’ with large silken tufts on the hood—these tufts being the sole mark of the Sovereign.
As His Majesty entered the court, the Master of the Horse shouted in a loud voice to the officers and troops, ‘Our lord says, May God assist you.’ All the line of officers in our rear, Uzir included, kneeling, bowed their heads to the ground, and the troops, bending low, raised a shout of ‘May God prolong the life of our lord.’ This was repeated twice.
His Majesty, having advanced to within thirty yards of where we stood, waved to us with his hand to advance, which I and the other gentlemen did, after making our bows, till I stood within a yard of His Majesty’s horse. The interpreter, Mr. David Sicsu, accompanied us; as on such occasions it is etiquette to speak through an interpreter.
Formal speeches were then exchanged and the Sultan withdrew. The letter continues:—